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THE   ENGLISH   LANGUAGE 

I  I.  L  U  S  T  It  A  T  I  .\  I  i 

'Clje  ,^fasons  anil  ^tWnWv,  of  tlir  JJrar, 

T  II  E  1 1: 

CHANGES,  EMPLOYMENTS,  LESSONS,  AND  PLEASURES, 

TOPI C  ALLY     PARAGRAPHED; 

COMPLETE    INDEX: 

JOSEPH   WILLIAM   JENKS.  .M.  A., 


BOSTON: 
PUBLISHED   BY   JOIL\   P.  JEWETT   AND    COMPANV. 

CLEVELAND,    OHIO: 

JEWETT,    PROCTOR,    AND    WO  RTIII  XGTO  X  . 

NEW  YOUK;  SHELDON,  BLAKEMAN,  &  CO. 

1856. 


Au^V 


Entered,  accordmg  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1866,  by 

JOSEPH  WILLIAM  JENKS,  M.  A., 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  District  of  Massacliusettfi. 


VERY,  COHSniLt. 


THE  HON.  MARSHALL  PINCKNEY  WILDER, 


THE   UNITED    STATES    ACniCULTURAL    SOCIETY, 


IM!ESIIi::XT  OF  THE  AMEniCAX  POMOLOGICAL  SOCIETV, 


GEXEBOUS,    AND     SUriESSFfL 


l,L  LOVEIIS  OF 


i.ND  HER  CULTURE  I 


I  THE  FRIEND  OF  AGRICULTURE  AND  RURAL  ART  ;  — 

^inb  also  to 

THE   MEMBERS   GEXEKALLY 

3VE-NAMED   USEFUL  AND    HONORED   NATIONAL    SOCIETIES;  

AS  TO  THOSE  WHO  WILL  BEST 


BEST    DESERVE   THE    PLACE    OF    PATRONS 


ENTERPRISE,   CONCEIV 


SPIRIT   KINDRED   TO   THEIR    OWN, 


ilris  irolume  of  %m\  |0ttrn 


IMS    AND    THEIR    OBEDIENT    HUMBLE   SERVAN 

J.  W.  JEXK3. 


iv::255G48 


|lrcf;icf. 


TnosE  nations  that  have  the  most  taste  for 
rural  pursuits  must  ever  rank  higlicst ;  for  tlicy 
have  tlio  greatest  number  of  happy  homes,  where 
that  individuality  and  strength  of  character  may 
be  produced  which  isolation  among  natural  scenes 
creates  and  nurtures  ;  —  homes,  where  dwell  the 
virtues  which  make  strong  the  foundations  of  a 
state.  Now,  the  cultivation  of  rural  tastes  through 
poetry  and  poetic  fancies,  by  making  countiy 
homes  more  attractive,  tends  to  render  tliese  home 
influences  more  powerful,  by  rendering  them  more 
delightful.  We  may  instance  that  in  such  a  cul- 
tivation, investing  with  correspondent  forms,  all 
charming  objects  of  a  charming  cUme,  lay  much 
of  the  beautiful  strength  of  the  Greek  character, 
whose  impress  is  so  strong  on  all  European,  and, 
of  course,  on  our  own  civilization. 

Americans,  indeed,  in  the  absence  of  pictures 
and  statues,  consequent  upon  the  newness  of  our 
surroundings,  are  in  a  manner  compelled  to  re- 
sort to  nature  for  unages  of  beauty  which  shall 
cultivate  and  perfect  the  taste.  Nowhere,  how- 
ever, does  man  less  need  the  appliances  of  the 
pictorial  and  statuary  ai-ts  than  in  our  own  wide 
counti-y,  where  nature  lavishes  so  much  of  beauty 
and  gi-andeur. 

We  are  frequently  told,  that,  for  the  sesthetic 
cultivation  so  necessary  tn  n  Infty  civilization, 
our  countiy  lacks  the  v™ei;il.lr  niin^  nf  time- 
honored  antiquity,  round  whirh  Unit  Imllowed 
ideas,  that  enlarge  humuuity  by  cxtuuding  its 
life  into  the  past  of  our  race,  and  aggrandize 
its  heart  with  an  inheritance  of  the  accumulated 
sympathies  of  many  generations.  But,  in  the 
lack  of  mouldering  ruins,  we  may  supply  their 
place  by  hallowing  with  poetry  the  antiquities  of 
nature,  —  our  solemn  forests  of  undated  age,  and 
our  rocks,  hoary  with  the  mosses  of  primeval 
time.  These  antedate  the  oldest  of  man's  mon- 
uments, and  arc  coeval  with  that  heavenly  infancy 
of  humanity  when  the  works  of  God  were  a  suffi- 
cient chronology,  and  dates  were  kept,  not  of  selfish 
deetls  of  renown,  but  of  progi-ess  in  the  formation 
of  character.  The  people  of  that  Golden  Age 
raiseil  no  pynvmids,  temples,  nor  towers  ;  they 
passed  easily  to  heaven  from  simple  tents  pitched 
upon  mountains,  beside  lovely  springs  and 
streams,  or  in  forest  glades,  under  tlie  shade  of 
whose  trees  they  enjoyed  the  companionship  of 
angels,  innocent  like  themselves,  and,  like  them- 
selves, in  love  with  everything  beautiful  and  good. 

Rural  poetry  should  therefore  be  held  in  lienor, 
because  it  tends  to  heighten,  purify,  multiply,  and 


exphiin,  tlic  associations,  correspondences,  or  anal- 
iv/iv^.  wlii.  Ii  fvrii  yot,  in  these  iron  ages,  give 
111.-  1  i!'  I  III  I  ifi'  iind  language  to  itselcnicnts. 
Ivh  S  'it  III  I' nr,  each  form  and  function, 
may  iliu.-.  lucmiir  :l  companion,  or  a  lesson  ;  and 
with  tliia  advantage  over  pictures  and  statues, 
that,  while  the  heart  prone  to  depravity  may  be 
corrupted  by  them,  nature  has  no  sights  nor 
sounds  wliicli  ■  m  mini^tir  to  vice,  for  all  her 
influences  :in-  cliMiiin.;  im  1  imrifying. 

It  was  unilrr  tlif  iiiipiilse  of  such  thoughts 
that  the  compiler  conceived  the  design,  a  decade 
of  years  since,  of  bringing  into  one  volume,  in 
an  attractive  form,  the  chief  rural  poems  of  tlie 
language  ;  tliat  thus  lio  midit  fiiltil  n  part  of  that 

obligation  we  :nv  all  mil.  i-  t,,  lr,\ i-icty  better 

than  we  fouml  it.  SIimuM  ilii-  m.Iiiihc  contribute 
to  awaken,  cultivate,  ur  giatily,  tUc  rural  tastes 
of  his  countryiueu  and  countrywomen,  he  will 
not  regret  the  time  and  drudgery  it  has  cost  him 
to  collect,  arrange,  paragraph,  and  Index,  these 
choice  portions  of  that  legacy  of  English  literature, 
which  is  the  common  inheritance  of  the  two 
mightiest  empires  of  mind. 

A  glance  at  the  volume  will  explain  its  con- 
veniences. How  often,  in  a  few  moments  of  lei- 
sure, snatched  from  the  busy  hours  of  a  busy 
people,  do  wo,  in  t-il:!:-/  v.y  -i  h,.,.];  nf  poetry  to 
solace  oursrlvi's  nlih    i    i       i  ii     ;  i.:i;.'e,  vainly 

turn  over  till' liMM-.  i    .        in,' page  after 

page,  read  much  tluit  v.u  .j.n-  n "!  i"!',  and,  after 
an  harassing  search,  give  up  the  passage  in  de.s- 
p.air,  as  we  find  the  halcyon  moments  we  could 
abandon  to  its  charms  have  forever  fled  ;  —  how 
often  do  we  close  the  book  in  a  disagreeable  state 
of  mind,  the  memory  of  which  prevents  us  from 
soon  opening  its  pages  again  !  But,  in  the  ar- 
rangement (which  the  editor  believes  to  be  entirely 
original)  adopted  in  this  volume,  what  with  the 
minute  division  into  conspicuous  paragraphs,  ac- 
cording to  topics,  with  copious  and  exact  captions, 
tlie  '  arguments '  hciiding  each  separate  book  or 
canto  of  a  poem,  and  the  very  full  index  at  the 
end,  —  any  favorite  passage,  and  indeetl  any 
sought-for  sentiment,  name,  precept,  description, 
or  allusion,  may  be  turned  to  without  tlic  loss  of 
a  moment.  We  thus  find  with  ease  what  we 
are  in  the  mood  of  reading,  minister  at  once  to 
the  good  tastes  we  are  cidtivating,  and  put  aside 
the  book  with  a  sense  of  improvement  and  pleas- 
ure which  spreads  its  zest  over  many  an  otherwise 
weary  and  profitless  hour. 


.).  W.  .). 


Boston,  June,  1856. 


Conttitts, 


SPRING,  pp.  1—134. 


MAKCH,  pp.  1—40. 

Tbouson^s  Spriso, 3 — 14 

Pastorals  fob  Mabch, 15—18 

Spenser's  March,  an  Eclofuc, 15 

Gray's  Vicissitude, 10 

Theocritus's  Daphnis  (Chapman),      ....    1" 

HfSiOD's  ■Works  asp  Days, 19—24 

RcBAt  Odks  for  March, 25,  26 

Bryant's  March, 25 

Bion's  Evening  Star  (Chapman),        .       .       .       .25 

Burns's  Mountain  Daisy, 25 

Moschus's  Cupid  a  Runaway  (Chapman),       .       .    26 
Theocritus's  DistafT  (Chapman),        ....    26 

Giv's  RcRAL  Sports, 27—31 

TvssER's  March's  HrsnASOBT, 31 

RCSTIC  BALI-iDS  FOR  MaRCB, 32—34 

Robin  Hood  and  Guy  of  Gisborne,     ....  32 

Drayton's  Robin  in  Sherwood, 34 

Goi.DSJirrn'3  Desertbd  Tillage,     ....    35—38 

llvMXS  OP  Praise  for  March, 39 

Bryant's  Forest  Hymn, 39 

Merrick's  Psalm  8th, 40 

Milton's  Morning  Hymn, 40 


APRIL,  pp.  41—78. 
Bloomfield's  Farmer's  Bor  ;  Spriso, 


Mrs.  IIul 


Pastorals  for  April, 

Virgil's  Tityrus  and  Melibffius,  . 
Herbert's  Northern  Spring, 
Meleager's  Spring  (Buctcminster), 
Armstrokg's  Art  of  Hbaltb  ;  Air, 
KcRAL  Odes  for  April,     . 
Jlrs.  Barbauld's  Spring, 
Longfellow's  April  Day,       .       . 


47—50 
61—54 


fSprii 


I'ercivars  Spring o^ 

I.«ngfeIlow's  .\pril, 52 

'  Clare's  Spring  Musings, 53 

Warton's  April, 54 

Dodslet's  Aoriccltcre, 65—70 

Tcsser's  April's  Hosbasdrv,     .      •      .      .  7 ' 

RcsTic  Ballads  for  April,        ....       71—74 

Bloomfield's  Abner  and  the  TVidow  Jones,   .       71—73 

Tickell's  lucy  and  Colin, 73 

Bloomfleld's  Fakenhara  Ghost,       ....       73 

Bloomfield's  Rosy  Hannah 74 

Dyer's  Rcbal  Poems, 75—77 

Dyer's  Gronpar  Hill, 75.   76 

Dyer's  Country  Walk, 70,   77 

P.SALMS  OF  Praise  for  April, 78 

Mrs.  Barbauld's  Divine  Sovereignty,    ...       78 
Addison's  Twenty-third  Psalm,     ....       78 


MAY,  pp.  79—134. 
Cowpeb's  Gardes  (Task),     . 
Pastorals  for  May,      .... 

Aikin'sWish 

Moschus's  Choice,     .... 

SOMERVILLE'S  MAY   GAMES,      . 


.       .       .       .      89—100 

RCRAL  Odes  for  May, 101,  102 

Percival's  Reign  of  May,        ....    101,  102 

Milton's  May  Morning, 102 

Holmes's  Spring  Scene,    ....  .102 

Anacpeon's  Spring, 102 

,  Dryden's  Emily  a-Maying, 102 

'  RiHSAT's  Oektle  Shephbrd 103—123 

BrSTio  Ballads,  &c.,  for  Mat,        .      .      .    129,  130 

Graves's  Ballad  to  the  Birds 129 

Breton's  Phillidn  and  Corydon,      ....     129 


Bloomfleld's  Lucy, 129,   130 

Street's  Early  Garden, 130 

Heywood's  Shepherd's  Sang, 130 

Forest  Walk  in  Spring,        .      .    131—133 


'dsser's  May's  Hdsbasdrv, 133 

'SALMs  OP  Praise  tor  Mat, 134 

Pope's  Universal  Prayer, 134 

Addison's  Nineteenth  PsaUn,  .  .       .  134 


SUMMER, 


JUNE,  pp.  135—192. 
Thomsos's  Scmmee 


Pastorals  for  June,      . 

Cunningham's  Day,  . 

Shenstone's  Hope, 

Otway's  Morning, 
Browse's  Bbitassia's  Pastorals  (e 


HAL  Odes  for  Jone,  . 
Warton's  Hamlet,      . 
Bryant's  Song  of  Wooing, 
Dawes's  Spirit  of  Beauty, 
Motherwell's  Summer  Months, 


Mason's  E.nglish  Gardes,  . 
Tcsser's  Jcne's  Hcsbandrt, 
RnsTio  Ballads  for  Jitse,    . 

The  Children  in  the  Wood,      . 

Lady  Barnard's  Auld  Rubin  Gray 
Lyttelton's  Progress  of  Love, 

Uncertainty,       .... 

Jealousy, 


Psalms  of  Praise  for  June, 
Pope's  Messiah, . 
Quarles's  Delight  in  God, 
Ilerriok's  Thanksgiving,  . 


JULY,  pp.  193—244. 
Bloomfield's  Farmer's  Bot  ;  Scmmeb,     .       .    193—197 

Pastoral  fob  Jclt, 

Pope's  Summer, 198 

Ar.mstbong's  Art  of  Health  ;  Diet,        .       .    193—204 

Tl'SSbb's  July's  IIcsbandry, 204 

Rural  Odes  for  Jclt, 205,  206 

Bryant's  After  a  Tempest, 205 

Rogers's  Rural  Retreat,  .       .       .       .       .       .205 


pp.  135—296. 

Longfellow's  Angler's  Song,     ....    205,   206 

Drayton's  Bouquet, 206 

Bryant's  Summer  Wind, 206 

Virgil's  Georgics, 207-236 

Elegy  and  Ballad  for  July,    ....    2S7.  238 

Gray's  Elegy, 237 

Bloomfield's  Dolly, 2:S 

Milton's  Rural  Poems, 239 — 243 

L'AUegro 239,   240 

II  Penseroso 240,  241 

Lycidas, 241—243 

Rhymed  Lessons  fob  Jclt, 

Emerson's  Wood-Notes, 244 

Yaughan's  Early  Rising  and  Prayer,    .       .       .      244 

AUGUST,  pp.  245—206. 

CowpER's  Sofa  (Task), 245—262 

Pastobals  for  Augitst, 253, 254 

Theocritus's  Singers  of  Pastorals,  .       .       .      243,  254 

Parnell's  Health, 254 

Crabbe's  Village, 255—260 

Rural  Odes  for  August, 261.  262 

Bryant's  Rivulet,       .       .       ...       .       .       .261 

Street's  August, 262 

Anacreon's  Grasshopper  (CuwIeyJ,        ...      262 

Clare's  Summer  Insects, 262 

■Delille's  COU.NTRY  Gentleman,    ....    263-289 

Rustic  Ballads  foe  August, 

Hood's  Ruth, 290 

Bloomfield's  Gleaner's  Song, 290 

Collins's  Fidele's  Tomb, 290 

Cowper's  Shrubbery, 290 

Pope's  Windsor  Forest,        .      .      .      ...    291—295 

Tusser's  August's  Husbandry, 295 

Psalms  of  Praise  foe  August, 

Beattie's  Hei-mit, 296 

Pope's  Universal  Order, 296 

On  the  Deity, 296 


AUTUMN,  pp.  297—394. 


SEPTEMBER,  pp.  2117— USO. 

Thomson's  Aitcms, 297— ilO 

Tdsser's  Septkmbkh's  IIi-sdasdry 310 

Pastorals  for  SBrreMBER, 


BrowDe'9  Britannia's  Pastorals  (extracts), 
Crabbe'3  PABisn  Reoistbr  ;  Baptisms, 


S11-4J14 
316—322 


BCRAL  Odes  Foa  Sei'tember,       ....     323, 3i4 

Lloyd's  Country  Box, 323 

Clieetham's  Happy  Mean, 324 

Rogers's  Italian  Cot, 324 

Coleridge's  Domestic  Peace, 324 

Clare's  Brokes  Heart, 325—327 

RcsTic  Ballad  for  September, 

Bloomtteld's  Uorkcy,  or  Harvest  Home,     .     328, 329 

Psalm  and  Lessons  for  September,  .... 

Quarles's  (Ps.  42  :  2)  Longing  to  See  God,  .       .     330 

Pope's  Mutual  Dependence, 330 

Gruhamc's  Cliristian  Sabbath 330 


OCTOBER,  pp.  331—358. 


Bloomfield's  Farmer's  Bov  ;  Actumx, 
Pastoral  for  AccrsT 

Ramsay's  Richy  and  Sandy, 
Armstrong's   Art  of  Prkservin( 
I'xercise,         .       .       .       , 
RcRAL  Odes  for  October,     . 

Longfellow's  Autumn, 


Heal 


Bryant's  Autumn  Woods,        .... 

Longfellow's  Autumnal  Nightfall,  . 
SOMERVlLLE'a  CnASE  (abridqed), 
RcsTic  Ballads  for  October,     .... 

Whittier's  Huskers, 

Hood's  Season, 

Miss  Elliot's  Flowers  of  the  Forest,      . 
Psalm  and  Hymns  for  October,  .... 

Quarles's  (Psalm  42  :  1)  Longing  after  God, 

Jones's  Autumnal  Hymn,       .... 

Young's  Immortality, 


343,  3U 

.      344 

345-355 


NOVEMBER,  pp.  359—394. 
Cowter's  Retirement  (Table  Talk), 
Pastorals  for  November,    . 

Burns'3  Cotter's  Saturday  Night,  . 

Fletcher's  (J.)  Shepherd's  Eve,     . 
Crabbe's  Parish  Reoister  :  Marriagi 


C42l 


337—0, 
3-13,34-1 


Odes  for  Novkmber,  .  ,  .  . 
Hood*3  Autumn,  .... 
llerrick's  Farmer,  .... 
Bryant's  Sonnet  for  November, 

PlULIPS'S  CiDEB, 

TrssBR's  November's  Husbandry, 
Ballad  fob  November,  .... 

Crabbe's  Gypsy,  or  the  Hall  of  Justk 
Psalm  of  Praise  for  November, 

Lon^'fellow's  Thanksgiving,     . 


WINTER,  pp.  395-515. 


DECEJIBER,  pp.  395—443. 
Thomson's  TVinter, 305 — 105 


Pastorals  for  December,     . 

Shenstone's  Absence, 

Shenstone's  Disappointment,  . 
Crabbe's  Parish  Reoister  ;  Bcrials, 
Rural  Odes  for  December, 

First  of  December,    .... 

Bead's  Stranger  on  the  Door-Sill, . 
Grainger's  Scoar-Cane, 
Tcssbr's  December's  HcsBASDRy, 


Ballads  i 

Bloomfield's  Market-Night,     . 

Happy  Fireside, 

Hymn  of  Praise  for  December, 

Milton's  Christmas  Hymn  (abridged), 


J.VNU.VRY,  pp.  445—406. 


Bloomfield's  Farmer'sB 

TrssEE's  Jaxcabt's  Hcsd 

Pastoral  for  .Tascarv, 

Virgil's  Melibtcus,     . 


Arsistrong'3  Art  of  Health  ;  the  Passion; 
KuRAL  Ode  for  January, 

Winter,  by  W.  Jenk3,  D.D.,  . 
Cowper's  TVister  Kvening  (Task), 
Ballad  for  Jancaet,    .       .       . 


Hamilton's 


Braes  of  Yarrow, 
Hymn  of  Praise  for  January,    . 
Coleridgc'3  Mont  Blanc,   . 


FEBRUARY,  pp.  467— 51-J. 


Cowper's  Winter  Walks  (Task), 
Winter  Morning  Walli,    . 
Winter  Wall£  at  Noon,    . 


TdSSER'S  rEBBUARY'S  HUSBANDRY,         ....       486 

Pastorals  for  Pebbuary, 487,488 

Browne's  Respect  to  Age,       ....      487,488 
Fletcher's  (P.)  Shepherd's  Life,     ....     488 
Dyer's  Fleece  (Three  Books),     ....    489—509 
RCBAL  Ode  and  Description  for  Februaby, 

Greene's  Shepherd  and  his  Wife 510 

Milton's  Garden  of  Eden 610 

Shenstone's  Schoolmisteess 611—613 

Ballads  for  February, 

Longfellow's  VUlage  Blacksmith,  ....      514 

My  Father, 614 

Concluding  Hymn  of  Praise 

Thomson's  Hymn  of  the  Seasons,  .       .       .      514,615 


tisi  of  ^Illustrations. 


Frontispiece :  Nature,  the  Alma  JIater  ; 
Beneath,  a  Cartoon  kepeesexting  Medita- 
tion AND  Action. 

Title-page :  The  Seasons  Personified,  and 
their  ever-changinq  Circuit. 

March,  its  Rural  Employments  and  Pleas- 
ures      3 

April,  its  Rural  Kmplovuenis  and  Pleas- 
ures,     41 

View  of  Shenstonf.'s  Cottage,  the  Leasowes, 
AT  Uales-Owen,  Shropshire,  England,  .   .    50 

May,  ITS  Rural  Employments  and  Pleas- 
ures,      79 

View  of  Co^vpee's  Birth-place,  at  Berkuam- 
stead,  Hertfordshire,  England,     ....    87 

View  of  Thomson's  Cottage,  Kew-lane,  near 
Richmond,  Cou.vtv  of  Surrey,  Eng.,    ...  100 

View  of  Ramsay's  Lodge,  near  Edinburgh, 
AND  the  Scenes  of  the  'Gentle  Shepherd,'  I'iS 

June,  its  Rural  Occupations  and  Pleas- 
ures,      135 

View  of  IIagley  Park,  the  Residence  of 
Lord  Lyttelton  ;  and  frequently  the 
Abode  of  Thomson, 190 

July,  its  Rural  Occupations  and  Pleas- 
ures,      193 


Page 
View  of  Austin  (Ecston)  Farm,  the  Residence 

OF  Bloomfield  as  a  Farmer's  Boy,  ...  107 
View  of  Milton's  Cottage,  at  Chalfont,  .  .  24:! 
August,  its  Rural   Occupations   and  Enjoy- 

View  of  Gray's  Tomb  and  Stoke  Church 
and  Cuurch-yaed,  the  Locality  op  Gray's 
'  Elegy,' 2C0 

September,  its  Products  ;   Hop-pickixg  ;  tim: 

Chase 2'j7 

October,  its  Employments  and  Amusements,  .  331 

View  of  Longfellow's  Residence,  Cambridge, 
Massachusetts,     314 

November  ;  Felling  Tisider, 359 

View  op  Crabbe's  Bikth-place,  Aldborouoh,  .  374 

View  op  Bryant's  Residence,  Roslyn,  Long 
Island,  New  York, 37G 

December,  its  Snow  and  Christmas  Cueeu,  .  395 
January  ;  the  Winter  Farm-yard,     ....  415 

February  ;  Hauling  Wood, 407 

View  of  the  Cottage  of  Suenstone's  School- 
Mistress,      at    Hales-Owen,    Shropshire, 

WHERE   ShENSTONE    RECEIVED   THE   RUDIMENTS 

OF  HIS  Education 513 


|iurat    |1octr 


THE     ENGLISH     LANGUAGE. 


SPRING-MARCH 


'iLl}(  J^irst  of  tijc  g^casoiis. 


THOMSON'S   "SPRING." 


The  suhjpct  prnpn!;ni.     Tn=:cribp,l 


ISVOCATIOS  TO  SPRIS'G. 


Come,  gentle  Spring  !  ethereal  mildness  !  co 
And  from  the  bosom  of  yon  dropping  cloud, 
While  music  wakes  around,  veiled  in  a  shower 
Of  sliadowing  roses,  on  our  plains  descend. 

0  Hertford'  !  fitted  or  to  shine  in  courts 
With  unaffected  grace,  or  walk  the  plain 
With  innocence  and  meditation  joined 
In  soft  assemblage,  listen  to  my  song, 
Which  thy  own  season  paints,  when  Nature  all 
Is  blooming  and  benevolent,  like  thee. 


1  The  Countess  of  Hertford,  a  patroness  of  poetry,  had 
invited  the  poet  to  her  residence,  and  during;  his  visit  he 
"le  dedicated  his  "  Summer  "  to  her  j  a 


And  see  where  surly  Winter  passes  off, 
Far  to  the  north,  and  calls  his  ruffian  blasts  : 
His  blasts  obey,  and  quit  the  howling  liill. 
The  shattered  forest,  and  the  ravaged  vale  ; 
\Vhile  softer  gales  succeed,  at  whose  kind  touch, 
Iiissolving  snows  in  livid  torrents  lost, 
The  mountains  lift  their  green  heads  to  the  sky. 

As  yet  the  trembling  year  is  unconfirmed. 
And  Winter  oft  at  eve  resumes  the  breeze. 
Chills  the  pale  morn,  and  bids  his  driving  sleets 
Dcfirii]  tlie  ilay  ilclightlcss  ;   so  that  scarce 
Th,.  l.itt.rn  knnws  his  time,  with  bill  ingulfed, 
To  .-^iKikr  thr  snuivling  marsh  ;   or  from  the  shore 
The  plovuia  when  tu  scatter  o'er  the  heath. 
And  sing  their  wild  notes  to  the  listening  waste. 

EFFECTS   op  BETCRSINQ   WARUTH.  —  PLOCGUIXG  ;  SOWING. 

At  last  from  Aries  rolls  the  boanteous  sun. 
And  the  bright  Bull  receives  him.     Then  no  more 
The  expansive  atmosphere  is  -cramped  with  cold  ; 
But,  full  of  life  and  vivifying  soul, 
Lifts  the  light  clouds  sublime,  and  spreads  them  thin. 
Fleecy,  and  white,  o'er  all-surrounding  heaven. 

Forth  fly  the  tepid  airs  ;  and  unconfincd, 


EUEAL    POETRY. — THOMSON. 


Unbinding  eaitli,  the  moving  softness  strays. 
Joyous,  tlie  impatient  husbandman  perceives 
Relenting  Nature,  and  his  lusty  steers 
Drives  from  their  stalls,  to  where  the  well-used  plough 
Lies  in  the  furrow,  loosened  from  the  frost. 
There,  unrefusing,  to  the  harnessed  yoke 
Tlicy  lend  their  shoulder,  and  begin  their  toil. 
Cheered  by  the  simple  song  and  soaring  lark. 
Jleanwhile  incumbent  o'er  the  shining  share 
The  master  loans,  removes  the  obstructing  clay. 
Winds  the  whole  work,  and  sidelong  lays  the  glebe. 
While  through  the  neighboring  fields  the  sower 
stalks 
With  measured  step,  and,  liberal,  throws  the  grain 
Into  the  faithful  bosom  of  the  ground  : 
The  harrow  follows  harsh,  and  shuts  the  scene. 


POWERS  OF  NATURE.  ■ 


-  FARMING  A  SITB- 


Be  gracious,  Heaven  !  for  now  laborious  man 
Has  done  his  part.     Ye  fostering  breezes,  blow  ! 
Ye  softening  dews,  ye  tender  showers,  descend  ! 
And  temper  all,  thou  world-reviving  sun. 
Into  the  perfect  year  !    Jfor  ye  who  live 
In  luxury  and  ease,  in  pomp  and  pride, 
Think  these  lost  themes  unworthy  of  your  ear  : 
Such  themes  as  these  the  rural  Maro'  sung 
To  wide-imperial  Rome,  in  the  full  height 
Of  elegance  and  taste,  by  Greece  refined. 

In  ancient  times  the  sacred  plough  employed 
The  kings  and  awful  fathers  of  mankind  ; 
And  some,  with  whom  compared  your  insect-tribes 
Are  but  the  beings  of  a  summer's  day, 
Have  held  the  scale  of  craiiire.  ruled  the  storm 
Of  mighty  war  ;  then,  with  unwearied  hand. 
Disdaining  little  delicacies,  seized 
The  plough,  and  greatly  independent  lived. 

Ye  generous  Britons,  venerate  the  plough  ! 
And  o'er  your  hills,  and  long  withdrawing  vales, 
Let  Autumn  spread  his  treasures  to  the  sun. 
Luxuriant  and  unbounded.     As  the  sea. 
Far  through  his  azure,  turbulent  domain, 
Your  empire  owns,  and  from  a  thousand  shores 
Wafts  all  the  pomp  of  life  into  your  ports. 
So  with  superior  boon  may  your  rich  soil. 
Exuberant,  Nature's  better  blessings  pour 
O'er  every  land,  the  naked  nations  clothe. 
And  be  the  exhaustless  granary  of  a  world  ! 


Nor  only  through  the  lenient  air  this  change, 
Delicious,  breathes  ;  the  penetrative  sun. 
His  force  deep-darting  to  the  dark  retreat 
Of  vegetation,  sets  the  steaming  power 
At  large,  to  wander  o'er  the  verdant  earth. 
In  various  hues  ;  but  chiefly  thee,  gay  green  ! 
Thou  smiling  Nature's  universal  robe  ! 


United  light  and  shade  !  where  the  sight  dwells 
With  growing  strength,  and  <vor-nrw  d;  ii.rtit. 

From  the  moist  meaduw  h.  ilir  w  iih I  liiH, 

Led  by  the  breeze,  the  \i\  nl  \.  hIum   i  nn-, 
And  swells,  and  deepens,  lo  tin   ilin  i-lnd  I'yc. 
The  hawthorn  whitens  ;  and  the  juicy  groves 
Put  forth  their  buds,  unfolding  by  degrees. 
Till  the  whole  leafy  forest  stands  displayed, 
In  full  luxiiri;nirr,  to  the  sighing  gales  ; 
WluTc  111.  'irrv  111-11. ■  tlifough  the  twiuiug  brake, 

And  th.'  liii.i-  Mil- -L'aled.     At  once  arrayed 

In  all  th.'  .■.l.ir-  ..1  the  flushing  year. 
By  Nature's  swift  and  secret-working  hand. 
The  garden  glows,  and  fills  the  liberal  air 
With  lavish  fragrance  ;  while  the  promised  fruit 
Lies  yet  a  little  embryo,  unperocived. 
Within  its  crimson  folds. 

WORLD    OF   BLOSSOMS. 

Now  from  the  town 
Buried  in  smoke,  and  sleep,  and  noisome  damps, 
Oft  let  me  wander  o'er  the  dewy  fields,  [drops 

Where  freshness  breathes,  and  dash  the  trembling 
From  the  bent  bush,  as  through  the  verdant  maze 
Of  sweetbrier  hedges  I  pursue  my  walk  ; 
Or  taste  the  smell  of  dairy  ;  or  ascend 
Some  eminence,  Augusta,'  in  thy  plains, 
And  see  the  country,  far  diffused  around. 
One  boundless  blush,  one  white-empurpled  shower 
Of  mingled  blossoms  ;  where  the  raptured  eye 
Hurries  from  joy  to  joy,  and,  hid  beneath 
The  fair  profusion,  yellow  Autumn  spies. 

CUTTISG  .  KORTH-EiSTERS     WISDS.  —  MILDEW.  —  FROST.  — 
ISSECT   ARMIES. —FAMI.NE. 

If,  brushed  from  Russian  wilds,  a  cutting  gale 
Rise  not,  and  scatter  from  his  humid  wings 
The  clammy  mildew  ;  or,  dry-blowing,  breathe 
Untimely  frost  ;   before  whose  baleful  blast 
The  full-blown  Spring  through  all  her  foliage  shrinks. 
Joyless  and  dead,  a  wide-dejected  waste. 
For  oft,  engendered  by  the  hazy  north, 
Myriads  on  myriads,  insect  armies  warp 
Keen  in  the  poisoned  breeze  ;  and  wasteful  eat, 
Through  buds  and  bark,  into  the  blackened  core, 
Their  eager  way.     A  feeble  race  !  yet  oft 
The  sacred  sons  of  vengeance,  on  whose  course 
Corrosive  Famine  waits,  and  kills  the  year. 


To  check  this  plague,  the  skilful  farmer  chaff 
And  blazing  straw  before  his  orchard  burns  ; 
Till,  all  involved  in  smoke,  the  latent  foe 
From  every  cranny  suffocated  falls  : 
Or  scatters  o'er  the  blooms  the  pungent  dust 
Of  pepper,  fatal  to  the  frosty  tribe  : 
Or,  when  the  envenomed  leaf  begins  to  curl. 
With  sprinkled  water  drowns  them  in  their  nest ; 


1  'Virgil,  whose  Latin  i 


vas  Publius  Virgilii 


1  The  poetic  r 


s  of  Londoi 


Nor,  while  they  pick  thorn  up  with 
The  little  trooping  birds  unwisely  s 


Be  patient,  swains  ;  these  cruel-soeming  winds 
Blow  not  in  vain.     Far  henoo  they  keep  repressed 
Those  deepening  clouds  on  clouds,  surcharged  with 
That,  o'er  the  vast  Atlantic  hither  borne,         [rain, 
In  endless  train,  would  quench  the  summer-blaze. 
And,  cheerless,  drown  the  crude,  unripeued  year. 


The  north-east  spends  his  rage  ;  he  now  shut  up 
M'ithin  his  iron  cave,  the  etfusive  south 
Warms  the  wide  air,  .ind  o'er  the  void  of  heaven 
Breathes  the  big  clouds  with  vernal  showers  distent. 
At  first  a  dusky  wreath  they  seem  to  rise. 
Scarce  staining  ether  ;  but  by  swift  degrees. 
In  heaps  ou  heaps,  the  doubling  vapor  sails 
Along  the  loaded  sky,  and  mingling  deep 
Sits  on  the  horizon  round  a  settled  gloom  ; 
Not  such  as  wintry  storms  on  mortals  shed, 
Oppressing  life  ;  but  lovely,  gentle,  kind, 
And  full  of  every  hope  and  every  joy, 
The  wish  of  Nature. 


Gradual  sinks  the  breeze 
Into  a  perfect  calm  ;  that  not  a  breath 
Is  heard  to  quiver  through  the  closing  woods, 
Or  rustling  turn  the  many-twinkling  leaves 
Of  aspen  tall.     The  uncurling  floods,  di.Tused 
In  glassy  breadth,  seem  through  delusive  lajjse 
Forgetful  of  their  course.     'T  is  silence  all 
And  pleasing  expectation.     Herds  and  flocks 
Drop  the  dry  sprig,  and,  mute-imploring,  eye 
The  falling  verdure.     Hushed  in  short  suspense. 
The  plumy  people  streak  their  wings  with  oil,' 
To  throw  the  lucid  moisture  trickling  off, 
And  wait  the  approaching  sign  to  strike,  at  once, 
Into  the  general  choir.     E'en  mountains,  vales, 
And  forest<i  seem,  impatient,  to  demand 
The  promised  sweetness.     Man  superior  walks 
Amid  the  glad  creation,  musing  praise, 
And  looking  lively  gratitude. 


At  last 
The  clouds  consign  their  treasures  to  the  fields  ; 
And,  softly  shaking  on  the  dimpled  pool 
Prelusive  drops,  let  all  their  moisture  flow, 
In  large  effusion,  o'er  the  freshened  world. 
The  stealing  shower  is  scarce  to  patter  heard 
By  such  as  wander  through  the  forest  walks. 
Beneath  the  umbrageous  multitude  of  leaves. 


^  At  I 


But  who  can  hold  the  shade,  while  Heaven  descends 

In  universal  bounty,  shedding  herbs 

And  fruits  and  flowers  on  Nature's  ample  lap  ! 

Swift  Fancy  fired  anticipates  their  growth  ; 

And,  while  the  milky  nutriment  distils, 

Beholds  the  kindling  country  color  round. 

CLBilllSG  CP    OP    THE    APBIL    SHOWER.  —  TIIE    SfS  ;    JIJIX- 
DBOPS  J  BIRDS  ;    DltoOKS  J   I-OWI.SG  OF   CATTLE  ;  ZEPIlYlt, 

Thus  all  day  long  the  full-distended  clouds 
Indulge  their  genial  stores,  and  well-showered  earth 
Is  deep  enriched  with  vegetable  life  ; 
Till,  in  the  western  sky,  the  dcnvnwanl  sun 
Looks  out,  effulgent,  from  amid  the  flush 
Of  broken  clouds,  gay-shifting  to  his  beam. 
The  rapid  radiance  instantaneous  strikes 
The  illumined  mountain,  through  the  forest  streams, 
Shakes  on  the  floods,  and  in  a  yellow  mist. 
Far  smoking  o'er  the  interminable  plain. 
In  twinkling  myriads  lights  the  dewy  gems. 
Moist,  briglit.and  green,  the  landscape  laughs  around ; 
Full  swell  the  woods  ;  their  every  music  wakes. 
Mixed  in  wild  concert  with  the  warbling  brooks 
Increased,  the  distant  bleatings  of  the  hills, 
And  hollow  lows  responsive  from  the  vales, 
Whence  blending  all  the  sweetened  zephyr  springs. 

TUE   RAINBOW.  —  .NEWTON'S   PRISM.  —  THE    COL'STRY    BOY. 

Meantime,  refracted  from  yon  eastern  cloud. 
Bestriding  earth,  the  grand  ethereal  bow- 
Shoots  up  immense  ;  and  every  hue  unfolds 
In  fair  proportion,  running  from  the  red 
To  where  the  violet  fades  into  the  sky. 
Hero,  awful  Newtun  !  the  dissolviog  clouds 
Forai,  fronting  on  the  sun,  thy  showery  prism  ; 
And  to  the  sage-instructed  eye  unfold 
The  various  twine  of  light,  by  thee  disclosed 
From  the  white-mingling  maze.     Not  so  tho  boy  ; 
He  wondering  views  the  bright  enchantment  bend. 
Delightful,  o'er  the  radiant  fields,  and  runs 
To  catch  the  falling  glory  ;  but  amazed 
Beholds  the  amusive  arch  before  him  fly. 
Then  vanish  quite  away.     Still  night  succeeds, 
A  softened  shade,  and  saturated  earth 
Awaits  the  morning  beam,  to  give  to  light, 
Raised  through  ten  thousand  different  plastic  tubes, 
Tho  balmy  treasures  of  tho  former  day. 


Then  spring  the  living  herbs,  profusely  wild, 
O'er  all  the  deep-green  earth,  beyond  the  power 
Of  botanist  to  number  up  their  tribes  ; 
Whether  he  steals  along  the  lonely  dale, 
In  silent  search  ;  or  through  the  forest,  rank 
With  what  the  dull  incurious  weeds  account. 
Bursts  his  blind  way  ;  Or  climbs  the  mountain  rock. 
Fired  by  the  nodding  verdure  of  its  brow. 
With  such  a  liberal  hand  has  Nature  flung 
Their  seeds  abroad,  blown  them  about  in  winds. 


RURAL    POETRY. THOMSON. 


Innumerous  mixed  them  with  the  nursing  mould, 
The  moistening  current,  and  prolific  rain. 

VARIOUS   USES  OF   PLANTS.  —  VEGETABLE   DIET. 

But  who  their  virtues  can  declare  ?  who  pierce. 
With  vision  pure,  into  these  secret  stores 
Of  health,  and  life,  and  joy  ?  the  food  of  Man, 
While  yet  he  lived  in  innocence,  and  told, 
A  length  of  golden  years  ;  unfleshed  in  blood, 
A  stranger  to  the  savage  arts  of  life, 
Death,  rapine,  carnage,  surfeit,  and  disease  ; 
The  lord,  and  not  the  tyrant,  of  the  world. 

THE  GOLDEN  AGE  OF  INNOCENCE.  — MOBNING  IN  THE  GOLD! 


The  first  fresh  dawn  then  waked  the  gladdened  race 
Of  uncorrupted  Man,  nor  blushed  to  see 
The  sluggard  sleep  beneath  its  sacred  beam  ; 
For  their  light  slumbers  gently  fumed  away. 
And  up  they  rose  as  vigorous  as  the  sun. 
Or  to  the  culture  of  the  willing  glebe. 
Or  to  the  cheerful  tendance  of  the  flock. 
Meantime  the  song  went  round ;  and  dance  and  sport, 
Wisdom,  and  friendly  talk,  successive,  stole 
Their  hours  away  :  while  in  the  rosy  vale 
Love  breathed  his  infant  sighs,  from  anguish  free. 
And  full  replete  with  bliss  ;  save  the  sweet  pain 
That,  inly  thrilling,  but  exalts  it  more. 
Nor  yet  injurious  act,  nor  surly  deed. 
Was  known  among  those  happy  sons  of  Heaven  ; 
For  reason  and  benevolence  were  law. 


Harmonious  Nature,  too,  looked  smiling  on  : 
Clear  shone  the  skies,  cooled  with  eternal  gales, 
And  balmy  spirit  all.     The  youthful  sun 
Shot  his  best  rays,  and  still  the  gracious  clouds 
Dropped  fatness  down  ;   as  o'er  the  swelling  mead 
The  herds  and  flocks,  commixing,  played  secure. 
This  when,  emergent  from  the  gloomy  wood. 
The  glaring  lion  saw,  his  horrid  heart 
Was  meekeued,  and  he  joined  his  sullen  joy  ; 
For  music  held  the  whole  in  perfect  peace  : 
Soft  sighed  the  flute  ;   the  tender  voice  was  heard, 
Warbling  the  varied  heart  ;   the  woodlands  round 
Applied  their  choir  ;  and  winds  and  waters  flowed 
Such  were  those  prime  of  days. 


AGE   CONTRASTED 


But  now  those  will Ir,  iinlilriiiMircl  ni;nmrr>,  whence 
The  fabling  poets  ln>,l-:  Ihrli  -mMih  :i  :>■. 
Are  fol^nd  no  morr  :i!iii'l  lii'  -■■  ii'ii  liinr-. 
These  dregs  of  life  !  ]Hiiv  tlir  dM.'ini.riva  mind 
Has  lost  that  concord  of  iiarmonious  powers 
Which  forms  the  soul  of  happiness  ;  and  all 
Is  off  the  poise  within  :  the  passions  all 
Have  burst  their  bounds  ;  and  reason,  half  extinct. 
Or  impotent,  or  else  approving,  sees 
The  foul  disorder.     Senseless  and  deformed, 


Convulsive  anger  storms  at  large  ;  or,  pale 

And  silent,  settles  into  ftU  Vevenge. 

Base  envy  withers  at  another's  joy. 

And  hates  that  excellence  it  cannot  reach. 

Desponding  fear,  of  feeble  fancies  full. 

Weak  and  unmanly,  loosens  every  power. 

E'en  love  itself  is  bitterness  of  soul, 

A  pensive  anguish  pining  at  the  heart ; 

Or,  sunk  to  sordid  interest,  feels  no  more 

That  noble  wish,  that  never-cloyed  desire. 

Which,  selfish  joy  disdaining,  seeks  alone 

To  bless  the  dearer  object  of  its  flame. 

Hope  sickens  with  extravagance  ;  and  grief, 

Of  life  impatient,  into  madness  swells. 

Or  in  dead  silence  wastes  the  weeping  hours. 

VARIOUS     CURSES     BORN      OF 


These,  and  a  thousand  mixed 
From  ever-changing  views  of  good  and  ill, 
Formed  infinitely  various,  vex  the  mind 
With  endless  storm  :  whence,  deeply  rankling,  grows 
The  partial  thought,  a  listless  unconcern. 
Cold,  and  averting  from  our  neighbor's  good  ; 
Then  dark  disgust,  and  hatred,  winding  wiles. 
Coward  deceit,  and  ruflian  violence  : 
At  last,  extinct  each  social  feeling,  fell 
And  joyless  inhumanity  pervades 
And  petrifies  the  heart.     Nature  disturbed 
Is  deemed,  vindictive,  to  have  changed  her  course. 

Hence,  in  old  dusky  time,  a  deluge  came  : 
When  the  deep-cleft  disparting  orb,  that  arched 
The  central  waters  round,  impetuous  rushed. 
With  universal  burst,  into  the  gulf, 
And  o'er  the  high-piled  hills  of  fractured  earth 
Wide  dashed  the  waves,  in  undulation  vast  : 
Till,  from  tlio  centre  to  the  streaming  clouds, 
A  shoreless  ocean  tumbled  round  the  globe. 


The  seasons  since  have,  with  severer  sway, 
Oppressed  a  broken  world.     The  Winter  keen 
Shook  forth  his  waste  of  snows  ;  and  Summer  shot 
His  pestilential  heats.     Great  Spring,  before. 
Greened  all  the  year,  and  fruits  and  blossoms  blushed, 
In  social  sweetness,  on  the  self-same  bough. 
Pure  was  the  temperate  air  ;  an  even  calm 
Perpetual  reigned,  save  that  the  zephyrs  bland 
Breathed  o'er  the  blue  expanse  ;  for  then  nor  storms 
Were  taught  to  blow,  nor  hurricanes  to  rage  ; 
Sound  slept  the  waters  ;  no  sulphureous  glooms 
Swelled  in  the  sky,  and  sent  the  lightning  forth  ; 
While  sickly  damps  and  cold  autumnal  fogs 
Hung  not,  relaxing,  on  the  springs  of  life. 
But  now,  of  turbid  elements  the  sport, 
From  clear  to  cloudy  tossed,  from  hot  to  cold. 
And  dry  to  moist,  with  inward-eating  change. 
Our  drooping  days  are  dwindled  down  to  naught. 
Their  period  finished  ere  'tis  well  begun. 


THE  EATING  OF  ANIMAL  FOOD  BY  MAN  REPROBATED  }  PLEA 
AGAINST  THE  SLACGHTER  OF  SHEEP  AND  CATTLE  FOR  FOOD. 
—  rVTUAGOHAS. 

And  3'et  the  wholesome  herb  neglected  dies  ; 
Though  with  the  pure  exhilarating  soul 
Of  nutriment  and  health  and  vital  powers, 
Beyond  the  search  of  art,  't  is  copious  blest. 
For,  with  holf  ravine  fired,  ensanguined  man 
Is  now  become  the  lion  of  the  plain, 
And  worse.     The  wolf,  who  from  the  nightly  fold 
Fierce  drags  the  bleating  prey,  ne'er  drank  her  milk. 
Nor  wore  bur  wanuiii';  (Icece  ;  nor  has  the  steer, 
.•\t  wl]"-r  -tt.-n-  .  Ii.  -I  ili,>  deadly  tiger  hangs. 
E'er  pliii   !     ;  :   i  i  i'      111' y  too  are  tempered  high, 
Witli  Inn  ■   ■       n  .   1    ,  « i Id  necessity , 
Nor  ludguj  i^;i\  ui  iLlh  _-baggy  breast. 
But  man,  whom  Nature  formed  of  milder  clay. 
With  every  kind  emotion  in  his  heart, 
And  taught  alone  to  weep  ;  while  from  her  lap 
She  pours  ten  thousand  delicacies,  herbs, 
And  fruits,  as  numerous  as  the  drops  of  rain. 
Or  beams  that  gave  them  birth  —  shall  he,  fairform! 
Who  wears  sweet  sidtI'--.  ;tnd  !m(,1-:j  erect  on  heaven, 

I !  •  I'cast  of  prey, 
!•  I  il;  liut  you,  ye  flocks, 
.'iiofful  people,  what, 
To  merit  death  ?  you,  who  have  given  us  milk 
In  luscious  streams,  and  lent  us  your  own  coat 
Against  the  Winter's  cold  ?  and  the  plain  ox, 
That  harmless,  honest,  guileless  animal. 
In  what  has  he  offended  ?  he,  whose  toil. 
Patient  and  ever  ready,  clothes  the  land 
With  all  the  pomp  of  harvest ;  shall  he  bleed. 
And  struggling  groan  beneath  the  cruel  bauds 
E'en  of  the  clown  he  feeds  ?  and  that,  perhaps. 
To  swell  the  riot  of  the  autumnal  feast. 
Won  by  his  labor  ?     Thus  the  feeling  heart 
Would  tenderly  suggest :  but 't  is  enough. 
In  this  late  age,  adventurous,  to  have  tbuchcd 
Light  on  the  numbers  of  the  Samian  sage.^ 
High  Heaven  forliids  the  bold,  presumptuous  strain, 
Whose  wisest  will  has  fixed  us  in  a  state 
That  must  not  yet  to  pure  perfection  rise. 


Which,  by  rapacious  hunger  swallowed  deep. 
Gives,  as  you  tear  it  from  the  bleedmg  breiL-t 
Of  the  weak,  helpless,  uncomplaining  wreteli. 
Harsh  pain  and  horror  to  the  tender  hand. 


HOW.— SMALL  : 


I  THE  WATER. 


E  er  stoop  to  mm: 
And  dip  his  toii;;ii 
Blood-stained,  di-,- 
What  have  vou  do 


I  Vrken  with  his  lively  ray  the  potent  sun 
'  Has  pierced  the  streams,  and  roused  the  finny  race, 
[  Then,  issuing  cheerful,  to  thy  sport  repair  ; 
j  Chief  should  the  western  breezes  curling  play. 
And  light  o'er  ether  bear  the  shadowy  clouds. 
I  High  to  their  fount,  tliis  day,  amid  the  hills, 
I  And  woodlands  warbling  round,  trace  up  the  brooks; 
The  next,  pursue  their  rocky-channelled  maze, 
Dovra  to  the  river,  in  whose  ample  wave 
1  The  little  naiads  love  to  sport  at  large. 

.Just  in  the  dubious  point,  where  with  the  pool 
j  Is  mixed  the  trembling  stream,  or  where  it  boils 
I  Around  the  stone,  or  from  the  hollowed  bank 
Reverted  plays  in  undulating  flow  — 
There  throw,  nice-judging,  the  delusive  fly  ; 
And,  as  you  lead  it  round  in  artful  cun-e. 
With  eye  attentive  mark  the  springing  game. 
Straight  as  above  the  surface  of  the  flood 
They  wanton  rise,  or  urged  by  hunger  leap. 
Then  fix,  with  gentle  twitch,  the  barbed  hook  ; 
Some  lightly  tossing  to  the  grassy  bank, 
And  to  the  shelving  shore  slow-dragging  some, 
With  various  hand  proportioned  to  their  force. 
If  yet  too  young,  and  easily  deceived, 
A  worthless  prey  soaroo  bends  your  pliant  rod. 
Him,  piteous  of  his  youth  and  the  short  space 
He  has  enjoyed  the  vital  light  of  heaven. 
Soft  disengage,  and  back  into  the  stream 
The  speckled  captive  throw. 


Now,  when  the  first  foul  torrent  of  the  brooks 
Swelled  with  the  vernal  rains,  is  ebbed  away  ; 
And,  whitening,  down  their  mossy-tinctured  stream 
Descends  the  billowy  foam  —  now  is  the  time. 
While  yet  the  dark-brown  water  aids  the  guile. 
To  tempt  the  trout.     The  well-dissembled  fly. 
The  rod  fine-tapering  with  elastic  spring, 
Snatched  from  the  hoary  steed  the  floating  line. 
And  all  thy  slender,  watery  stores  prepare. 
But  let  not  on  thy  hook  the  tortured  worm, 
Convulsive,  twist  in  agonizing  folds  ; 


But  should  you  lure 
From  his  dark  haunt,  beneath  the  tangled  roots 
Of  pendent  trees,  the  monarch  of  the  brook. 
Behoves  you  then  to  ply  your  finest  art. 
Long  time  he,  following  cautious,  scans  the  fly  ; 
And  oft  attempts  to  seize  it,  but  as  oft 
The  dimpled  water  speaks  his  jealous  fear. 
At  last,  while  haply  o'er  the  shaded  sun 
Passes  a  cloud,  he,  desperate,  takes  the  death, 
With  sullen  plunge.     At  once  he  darta  along. 
Deep  struck,  and  runs  out  all  the  lengthened  line  ; 
Then  seeks  the  farthest  ooze,  the  sheltering  weed. 
The  cavcrned  bank,  his  old  secure  abode  ; 
And  flics  aloft,  and  flounces  round  the  poid. 
Indignant  of  the  guile.     With  yielding  hand. 
That  feels  him  still,  yet  to  his  furious  course 
Gives  way,  you,  now  retiring,  following  now, 
Across  the  stream,  exhaust  his  idle  rage  ; 
Till  floating  broad  upon  his  breathless  side, 
And  to  his  &t«  abandoned,  to  the  shore 
You  gayly  drag  your  unresisting  prize. 


RURAL    POETRY. 


Thus  pass  the  temperate  hours  ;  but  when  the  si 
Shakes   from    his  noon-day  throne  the   scatterir 

clouds. 
E'en  shooting  listless  languor  through  the  deeps, 
Then  seek  the  bank  where  flowering  elders  crowd, 
Where  scattered  wild  the  lily  of  the  vale 
Its  balmy  essence  breathes,  where  cowslips  hang 
The  dewy  head,  where  purple  violets  lurk, 
With  all  the  lowly  children  of  the  shade  : 
Or  lie  reclined  beneath  yon  spreading  ash, 
Hung  o'er  the  steep  ;  whence,  borne  on  liquid  win 
The  sounding  culver  shoots  ;  or  where  the  hawk. 
High,  in  the  beetling  cliff,  his  eyry  builds. 
There  let  the  classic  page  thy  fancy  lead 
Through  rur.al  scenes,  such  as  the  Mantuan  swain 
Paints  in  the  matchless  harmony  of  song  ; 

Orcat.-h  |i  i^.iri',.   1 1-:,]..,  '-IMiiig  swift 

Athwail  ,    -_i  i  - 

Orby  tl,>  '  :     ,     I  .    ,  hilled, 

AndlM.t  II,  I. -11.  1.,  iiiiinn,,,.  Ill  I'l-'  .hvam. 
Confused,  of  careless  solitude,  where  mix 
Ten  thousand  wandering  images  of  things, 
"Soothe  every  gust  of  passion  into  peace  ; 
All  but  the  swellings  of  the  scftened  heart. 
That  waken,  not  disturb,  the  tranquil  mind. 


I  the  Muse 
I  can  paint 


i  skill, 


Behold  yon  bretitliini;  prn 
Throw  .all  her  beii\itv  Iniih. 
Like  Nature?     Can  iiuaiin: 
Amidst  its  gay  evcatiMH.  Imi 
Or  can  it  mix  them  iviil,  il,i 
And  lose  them  in  r-irl,  ,  ihrr,  ii.  iqipfars 
In  every  bud  that  bluwa  ?     It  laiicy,  then, 
Unequal  fails  beneath  the  pleasing  task, 
Ah,  whiit  shall  language  do  ?  ah,  where  find  words 
Tinge<l  with  so  many  colors,  and  whose  power. 
To  life  approaching,  may  perfume  my  lays 
AVith  that  fine  oil,  those  aromatic  gales, 
That  inexhaustive  flow  continual  round  ? 

LOVK  ;   AJIiNDA  i   MORKISG  WALK  WITU  HER,   GATIIEEISG 


will  the  toil  delight. 

1  V  v.aiths,  whose  hearts 


Yet,  though 
Come,  then,  yi 
Have  felt  the  ra|-hii.  ■  I  .•  '',  m  l..vo  ; 
And  thou,  Amaiala,  ■  ■n  ■  .  ,  i  i  i  luy  si 
Formed  by  the  (u  II  '      '  I.        ■       ii-'lf 

Come  with  tli"-r  (|.,uii>M    I    i   .  I.n.    II 

Those  hii.h.  .Iriii,,,,-,  tliiii  .|>.  ;    ,   ,     , 

Where,  Ullh  llir  imiil  nl  la,  i._. :     . 

Shines  lively  laliey  aud  thu  U.rlin^  li.  a.l 
0,  come  !  and  while  the  rosy-footed  May 
Steals  blushing  on,  together  let  us  tread 


e  was  a  native  of  Mantua, 

i(p),  in  classic  mytholoiry, 
)f  .iupitcr,  and  namet]  Eu- 
leypersonilied  beauty,  taste, 


The  morning  dews,  and  gather  in  their  prime 
Fresh-blooming  flowers,'  to  grace  thy  braided  ha 
And  thy  loved  bosom  that  improves  their  sweets 


See,  where  the  winding  vale  its  lavish  stores 
Irriguous  spreads.     See,  how  the  lily  drinks 
The  latent  rill,  scarce  oozing  through  the  grass 
Of  growth  luxuriant ;   or  the  humid  bank. 
In  fair  profusion,  decks.     Long  let  us  walk, 
Where  the  breeze  blows  from  yon  extended  field 
Of  blossomed  beans.     Arabia  cannot  boast 
A  fuller  gale  of  joy,  than,  liberal,  thence  [soul. 

Breathes  through  the  sense,  and  takes  the  ravished 
Nor  is  the  mead  unworthy  of  thy  foot. 
Full  of  fresh  verdure  and  unnumbered  flowers. 
The  negligence  of  Nature,  wide,  and  wild  ; 
Where,  undisguised  by  mimic  Art,  she  spreads 
Unbounded  beauty  to  the  roving  eye. 
Here  their  delicious  task  the  fervent  bees, 
In  swarming  millions,  tend  ;   around,  athwart. 
Through  the  soft  air,  the  busy  nations  fly. 
Cling  to  the  bud,  and,  with  inserted  tube. 
Suck  its  pure  essence,  its  ethereal  soul  ; 
And  oft,  with  bolder  wing,  they  soaring  dare 
The  purple  heath,  or  where  the  wild  thyme  grows. 
And,  yellow,  load  them  with  the  luscious  spoil. 

THE     GARDEN     IS     SPRING.  —  THE     BOWERY     WALK THE 

At  length  the  finished  garden  to  the  view 

Its  vistas  opens,  and  its  alleys  green. 

Snatched  through  the  verdant  maze  the  hurried  eye 

Distracted  wanders  ;  now  the  bowery  walk 

Of  covert  close,  where  scarce  a  speck  of  day 

Falls  on  the  lengthened  gloom,  protracted  sweeps  ; 

Now  meets  the  bendinjj;  s!<y  ;   tin-  rh  it  now 

Dimpling  along,  the  bnr/y'iuih  d  luki', 

The  forest  darkening  mnnd,  tliv  >;litliaing  spire, 

The  ethereal  mountain,  and  the  distant  main. 


But  why  so  far  excursive  ?  when  at  hand, 
Along  these  blushing  borders,  bright  with  dew, 
And  in  yon  mingled  wilderness  of  flowers. 
Fair-handed  Spring  unbosoms  every  grace  ; 
Throws  out  the  snow-drop  and  the  crocus  first  ; 
The  daisy,  primrose,  violet  darkly  blue, 
And  polyanthus  of  unnumbered  dyes  ; 
The  yellow  wall-flower,  stained  with  iron  brown  ; 
And  lavish  stock  that  scents  the  garden  round. 
From  the  soft  wing  of  vernal  breezes  shed. 
Anemones  :  auriculas,  enriched 
With  shining  meal  o'er  all  their  velvet  leaves  ; 
And  full  ranunculus,  of  glowing  red. 
Then  comes  the  tulip-race,  where  Beauty  plays 
Her  idle  freaks  ;  from  family  diffused 
To  family,  as  flics  the  father-dust. 
The  varied  colors  run  ;  and,  while  they  break 


SPRING —  MARCH. 


On  the  charmed  eye,  the  exulting  florist  marks, 
With  secret  prido,  the  wonders  of  his  hand. 
No  gradual  bloom  is  wanting  ;  from  the  bud, 
First-bom  of  Spring,  to  Summer's  musky  tribes  : 
Nor  hyacinths,  of  purest  virgin  white, 
Low  bent,  and  blushing  inward  ;  nor  jonquils, 
Of  potent  fragrance  ;  nor  Narcissus'  fair. 
As  o'er  the  fabled  fountain  hanging  still  ; 
Nor  broad  carnations,  nor  gay-spotted  pinks  ; 
Nor,  showered  from  every  bush,  the  damask-rose. 
Infinite  numbers,  delicacies,  smells, 
With  hues  on  hues  expression  cannot  paint. 
The  breath  of  Nature,  and  her  endless  bloom. 

ASCRIPTION  OP   PRAISE  TO    THE  ACTHOR    OF  NATURE.  —  THE 

Hail,  Source  of  Being  !     Universal  Soul 
Of  heaven  and  earth  !     Essential  Presence,  hail  ! 
To  Thee  I  bend  the  knee  ;  to  Thee  my  thoughts 
Continual  climb  ;  who,  with  a  master  hand, 
Hast  the  great  whole  into  perfection  touched. 
By  Thee  the  various  vcgetiitive  tribes. 
Wrapt  in  a  filmy  net,  and  clad  with  leaves. 
Draw  the  live  ether  and  imbibe  the  dew  ; 
By  Thee  disposed  into  congenial  soils 
Stands  each  attractive  plant,  and  sucks  and  swells 
The  juicy  tide,  a  twining  mass  of  tubes. 
At  thy  command  the  vernal  sun  awakes 
The  torpid  sap,  detruded  to  the  root 
By  wintry  winds,  that  now  in  fluent  dance. 
And  lively  fermenttition,  mounting,  spreads 
All  this  innumerous-colored  scene  of  things. 

THE  ANIMAL  WORLD  J     ITS   VARIED   VOICES  OF  LOVE.  —  THE 

As  rising  from  the  vegetable  world 
My  theme  ascends,  with  equal  wing  ascend. 
My  panting  Muse  !  and  hark,  how  loud  the  woods 
Invito  you  forth  in  all  your  gayest  trim. 
Lend  me  your  song,  ye  nightingales  !  0,  pour 
The  mazy-running  soul  of  melody 
Into  my  varied  verse  !  while  I  deduce. 
From  the  fii-st  note  the  hollow  cuckoo  sings. 
The  symphony  of  Spring,  and  touch  a  theme 
Unknown  to  fame  —  the  Passion  of  the  Groves. 

—  l...VK-SiiN(.s  OF  THE   LARK  ;     THRUSH  j 


\fhca  first  the  soul  of  love  i 

I'arm  thrcn^h  the  vital  nir,  a 


At  lir-t  laiiii-iv:ii  M-l  ,    liiii  ii'i  iH-r  grows 

The  soft  iufusiuu  pruvaloiit  and  wide. 
Than,  all  alive,  at  once  their  joy  o'erflows 
In  music  imconfined.     Up  springs  the  lark, 

•  A  benutiful  youth,  who,  in  punishment  fnr  his  indiffer- 
ence to  love,  was  futilLHl  to  have  been  caused  to  become 
ennmored  of  tiis  own  iinjijie  reflected  in  a  spring  ;  and  after 
pinnlg  to  death  fur  luve  of  it,  to  have  been  chanped  into  the 
pensile  flower  which  bears  his  name 


Shrill-voiced  and  loud,  the  messenger  of  morn  ; 

Ere  yet  the  shadows  fly,  he  mounted  sings 

Amid  the  dawning  clouds,  and  from  their  haunts 

Calls  up  the  tuneful  nations.     Every  copse 

Deep-tangled,  tree  irregular,  and  bush 

Bending  with  dewy  moisture  o'er  the  heads 

Of  the  coy  choristers  that  lodge  within. 

Are  prodigal  of  harmony.     The  thruFh 

And  wood-lark,  o'er  tli.   llnl  ..,,;.  ,  liu'  throng 

Superior  heard,  run  tin    I  i  Ivngth 

Of  notes;  when  listens  _  i'.  -      i   i„-iis 

To  let  them  joy,  and  |iin|.   -    ,  im  !|i    i^lit 

Elate,  to  make  her  night  c.\cel  their  Jay. 

The  black-bird  whistles  from  the  thorny  brake  ; 

The  mellow  bulfinch  answers  from  the  grove  ; 

Nor  are  the  linnets,  o'er  the  flowering  furze 

Poured  out  profusely,  silent.     Joined  to  these, 

Innumerous  songsters,  in  the  freshening  shade 

Of  new-sprung  leaves,  their  modulations  mix 

Mellifluous.     The  jay,  the  rook,  the  daw. 

And  each  harsh  pipe,  discordant  heard  alone. 

Aid  the  full  concert ;  while  the  stock-dove  breathes 

A  melancholy  murmur  through  the  whole. 

COURTSHIP  OF  BIRBS. 

'T  is  love  creates  their  melody,  and  all 
Tliis  waste  of  music  is  the  voice  of  love, 
Th.it  e'en  to  birds  and  beasts  the  tender  arts 
Of  pleasing  teaches.     Hence  the  glossy  kind 
Try  every  winning  way  inventive  love 
Can  dictate,  and  in  courtship  to  their  mates 
Pour  forth  their  little  souls.     First,  wide  around. 
With  distant  awe.  in  airy  rings  they  rove, 


Their  colors  burnish,  and  by  hopu  inspired. 
They  brisk  advance  ;  then,  on  a  sudden  struck. 
Retire  disordered  ;  then  again  approach  ; 
In  fond  rotation  spread  the  spotted  wing. 
And  shiver  every  feather  with  desire. 

THE  BCILDINO    OF    NESTS.  —  THE    VARIOUS    PLACES    CHOSEH 

Connubial  leagues  agreed,  to  the  deep  woods 
They  haste  away,  all  as  their  fancy  leads, 
Pleasure,  or  food,  or  secret  safety  prompts  — 
That  Nature's  great  command  may  be  obeyed, 
Nor  all  the  sweet  sensations  they  perceive 
Indulged  in  vain.     Some  to  the  holly-hedgo 
Nestling  repair,  and  to  the  thicket  some  ; 
Some  to  the  rude  protection  of  the  thorn 
Commit  their  feeble  oTspring.     The  cleft  tree 
O.Ters  its  kind  concealment  to  a  few. 
Their  food  its  insoeti,  and  its  moss  their  nests. 
Others  apart,  far  in  the  grassy  dale, 
Or  roughening  waste,  their  humble  texture  weave. 
But  most  in  woodland  solitudes  delight, 


brotJicr-ln-lnw,  was  fabled  to  have 


because  Philomela,  the 
bflnj:  dishonored  by  her 
changed  into  this 


RURAL    POETRY. 


In  unfrequented  glooms,  or  shaggy  banks, 

Steep,  aiKl  .livldcd  ],y  ;i  l.;.liblin-  i.runk, 

"Whose  niuMimr-  .-n'i|ln>  tlidn  all  tin.'  live-long  day, 

When  l.y  knid  duly  li.xr<|-      Ai„m,-  the  roots 

Of  hazel,  \n-udvui  uVr  tiie  iiiainlive  stream. 

They  frame  the  first  foundation  of  their  domes  ; 

Dry  sprigs  of  trees,  in  artful  fabric  laid, 

And  bound  with  clay  together.     Now  't  is  naught 

But  restless  hurry  through  the  busy  air, 

Beat  by  unnumbered  wings.     The  swallow  sweeps 

The  slimy  pool,  to  build  his  hanging  house 

Intent.     And  often,  from  the  careless  back 

Of  herds  and  flocks,  a  thousand  tugging  bills 

Pluck  hair  and  wool  ;  and  oft,  when  unobserved. 

Steal  from  the  barn  a  straw  ;  till,  soft  and  warm, 

Clean  and  complete,  their  habitation  grows. 


As  thus  the  patient  dam  assiduous  sits, 

ot  to  be  tempted  from  her  tender  task 

Or  by  sharp  hunger,  or  by  smooth  delight. 


Tho 
Her  s\ 
High. 


I  Spring  around  her  blo^ 
ikes  his  stand 
ik,  and  ceaseless  sings 
r  else  supplies 


To  pick  the  scanty  meal.     The  appointed  time 

With  pious  toil  fulfilled,  the  callow  young, 

Warmed  and  expanded  into  perfect  life, 

Their  brittle  bondage  break,  and  come  to  light, 

A  helpless  family,  demanding  food 

With  constant  clamor.     0  what  passions  then, 

What  melting  sentiments  of  kindly  care, 

On  the  new  parents  seize  !  Away  they  fly 

Affectionate,  and  undesiring  bear 

The  most  delicious  morsel  to  their  young  ; 

Which  equally  distributed,  again 

The  search  begins.     Even  so  a  gentle  pair, 

By  fortune  sunk,  but  formed  of  generous  mould. 

And  charmed  with  cares  beyond  the  vulgar  breast. 

In  some  lone  cot,  amid  the  distant  woods, 

Sustained  alone  by  providential  Heaven, 

Oft,  as  they  weeping  eye  their  infant  train. 

Check  their  own  appetites,  and  give  them  all. 


Nor  toil  alone  they  scorn  ;  exalting  love, 
By  the  great  Father  of  the  Spring  inspired. 
Gives  instant  courage  to  the  fearful  race. 
And  to  the  simple,  art.     With  stealthy  wing. 
Should  some  rude  foot  their  woody  haunts  molest. 
Amid  a  neighboring  bush  they  silent  drop. 
And  whirring  thence,  as  if  alarmed,  deceive 
The  unfeeling  school-boy.     Hence,  around  the  head 
Of  wandering  swain,  tin'  \\liit(-\\in,L;vd  ploverwheels 
Her  sounding  fli.L-lit,  ami  linn  dinrily  on 

To  tempt  him  fn.m  Ikt  m.-t.      i'lm  wild  duck  hence, 
O'er  the  rough  moss,  and  o'er  the  trackless  waste 
Tho  heath-hen,  flutters,  pious  fraud  I  to  lead 
The  hot-pursuing  spaniel  far  astray. 


THE  CAGING  OP  Bl 

Be  not  the  Muse  ashamed  here  to  bemoan 
Her  brothers  of  the  grove,  by  tyrant  Man 
Inhuman  caught,  and  in  the  narrow  cage 
From  liberty  confined,  and  boundless  air. 
Dull  are  the  pretty  slaves,  their  plumage  dull. 
Ragged,  and  all  its  brightening  lustre  lost  ; 
Nor  is  that  sprightly  wildness  in  their  notes, 
Which,  clear  and  vigorous,  warbles  from  the  beech. 
0,  then,  ye  friends  of  love  and  love-taught  song. 
Spare  the  soft  tribes,  this  barbarous  art  forbear, 
If  on  your  bosom  innocence  can  win, 
Music  engage,  or  piety  persuade  ! 

THE  bird's   nest  BOBBED. —  GRIEF   OF   THE  PARENT   BIRDS. 

But  let  not  chief  the  nightingale  lament 
Her  mined  care,  too  delicately  framed 
To  brook  the  harsh  confinement  of  the  cage. 
Oft  when,  returning  with  her  loaded  bill, 
The  astonished  mother  finds  a  vacant  nest, 
By  the  bard  hand  of  unrelenting  elowns 
Robbed,  to  the  ground  the  vain  provision  falls  ; 
Her  pinions  ruffle,  and,  low-drooping,  scarce 
Can  bear  the  mourner  to  the  poplar  shade  ; 
Where,  all  abandoned  to  despair,  she  sings 
Her  sorrows  through  the  night  ;  and,  on  the  bough. 
Sole-sitting,  still  at  every  dying  fall 
Takes  up  again  her  lamentable  strain 
Of  winding  woe  ;  till,  wide  around,  the  woods 
Sigh  to  her  song,  and  with  her  wail  resound. 


But  now  the  feathered  youth  their  former  bounds. 
Ardent,  disdain  ;  and,  weighing  oft  their  wings, 
Demand  the  free  possession  of  the  sky  ; 
This  one  glad  office  more,  and  then  dissolves 
Parental  love  at  once,  now  needless  grown  ; 
Unlavish  Wisdom  never  works  in  vain. 
'T  is  on  some  evening,  sunny,  grateful,  mild,  [woods, 
AVhen  naught  but  balm  is  breathing  through  the 
With  yellow  lustre  bright,  that  the  new  tribes 
Visit  the  spacious  heavens,  and  look  abroad 
On  Nature's  common,  far  as  they  can  see. 
Or  wing,  their  range  and  pasture.     O'er  the  boughs 
Dancing  about,  still  at  the  giddy  verge 
Their  resolution  fails  ;   their  pinions  still. 
In  loose  libration  stretched,  to  trast  the  void 
Trembling  refuse  ;  till  down  before  them  fly 
The  parent  guides,  and  chide,  exhort,  command, 
Or  push  them  off.     The  surging  air  receives 
Its  plumy  burdou  ;   and  their  self-tauixht  wings 


Roused  into  life  and  action,  light  in  air 
The  acquitted  parents  see  their  soaring  race, 
And  once  rejoicing  never  know  them  more. 

High  from  the  summit  of  a  craggy  cliff, 
Hung  o'er  the  deep,  such  as  amazing  frowns 


SPRING  —  MARCH. 


Oq  utmost  Kilda'ai  shore,  whose  lonely  raco 
Resign  the  setting  sun  to  Indian  worlds, 
The  royal  eagle  draws  his  vigorous  young. 
Strong-pounced,  and  ardent  with  paternal  firo. 
Now  fit  to  raise  a  kingdom  of  their  own, 
He  drives  them  from  his  fort,  the  towering  seat, 
For  ages,  of  his  empire  ;  which,  in  peace, 
Unstained  he  holds,  while  many  a  league  to  sea 
Ko  wings  his  course,  and  preys  in  distant  isles. 

THE   rOrXO  OF   Tira    POCLTRT-TABD.  —  THE  ROOK  ;    HEX   i 


Should  I  my  fir\><  tmti  t^.  t!i<'  rural  seat, 
■\Vhoso  lofty  elms,  :i  111  vhrmLi.   >,;iks, 
Invito  the  rook,  \\\\^'  ln-h  :iiiii<l  tin'  tmughs, 
In  early  Spring,  lii^  airy  -.-ily  Ijuiidir^, 
And  ceaseless  caws  amusive  ;  there,  well-pleased, 
I  might  the  various  polity  survey 
Of  the  mixed  household  kind.     The  careful  hen 
Calls  all  her  chirping  family  around, 
Fed  and  defended  by  the  fearless  cock, 
AVhose  breast  with  ardor  flames,  as  on  he  walks, 
Graceful,  and  crows  defiance.     In  the  pond 
The  finely-checkered  duck  before  her  train 
Rows  garrulous.     The  stately-sailing  swan 
Gives  out  his  snowy  plumage  to  the  gale  ; 
Aud»  arehin;;  proud  his  neck,  with  oary  feet 
lit'iirs  fiirwurd  licrce,  and  guards  his  osier-isle, 
Prntrctive  of  his  young.     The  turkey  nigh, 
Lnvid  threatening,  reddens;  while  the  peacock  spreads 
His  every-colored  glory  to  the  sun, 
And  swims  in  radiant  majesty  along. 
O'er  the  whole  homely  scene,  the  cooing  dove 
Flies  thick  in  amorous  chase,  and  wanton  rolls 
The  glancing  eye,  and  turns  the  changeful  neck. 


While  thus  the  gentle  tenants  of  the  shade 
Indulge  their  purer  loves,  the  rougher  world 
Of  brutes,  below,  rush  furious  into  flame. 
And  fierce  desire.     Through  all  his  lusty  veins 
The  bull,  deep-scorched,  the  raging  passion  feels. 
Of  pasture  sick,  and  negligent  of  food, 
Scarce  seen,  he  wades  among  the  yellow  broom, 
While  o'er  his  ample  sides  the  rambling  sprays 
Luxuriant  shoot ;  or  through  the  mazy  wood 
Dejected  wanders,  nor  the  enticing  bud 
Crops,  though  it  presses  on  his  careless  sense. 
And  oft,  in  jealous  maddening  fancy  rapt. 
He  seeks  the  fight,  an<l,  idly  butting,  feigns 
Uis  rival  gored  in  every  knotty  trunk. 
Him  should  he  meet,  the  bellowing  war  begins  : 
Their  eyes  flash  fury  ;  to  the  hollowed  earth, 
Whence  the  sand  ilies,  they  mutter  bloody  deeds. 
And,  groaning  deep,  the  impetuous  battle  mix  : 
While  the  fair  heifer,  balmy-breathing,  near. 
Stands  kindling  up  their  rage. 

THE   HORSE   IN  SPRING. —HIS   nBADLOSG    PASSION. 

Tho  trembling  steed, 
With  this  hot  impulse  seized  in  every  nerve, 

1  The  farthest  of  the  Western  Islands  of  Scotland. 


Nor  heeds  the  rein,  nor  hears  the  sounding  thong  ; 
Blows  are  not  felt ;  but,  tossing  high  his  head. 
And  by  the  well-known  joy  to  distant  plains 
Attracted  strong,  all  wide  he  bursts  away  ; 
O'er  rocks,  and  woods,  and  craggy  mountains  flies, 
And,  neighing,  on  the  aerial  summit  takes 
Tho  exciting  gale  ;  then,  steep-descending,  cleavei 
The  headlong  torrents  foaming  down  tho  hills. 
E'en  where  the  madness  of  the  straitened  stream 
Tiums  in  black  eddies  round  :  such  is  the  force 
With  which  his  frantic  heart  and  sinews  swell. 


Xur  uii.lrlii^litrd  l.y  the  boundless  Spring 
Are  till    III  I  ;i>l  111. I n -Ins  of  the  foaming  deep  : 
From  rip  W.  r|,  ,,./>  ;ujd  gelid  cavern  roused, 
Thoy  tlniiiH--  aiLii  tiiiiiljlu  in  unwieldy  joy. 
Dire  were  the  strain,  aud  dissonant,  to  sing 
The  cruel  raptures  of  the  savage  kind  ; 
How,  by  this  flame  their  native  wrath  sublimed. 
They  roam,  amid  the  fury  of  their.heart, 
The  far-resounding  waste  in  fiercer  bands. 
And  growl  their  horrid  loves.     But  this  the  theme 
I  sing,  enraptured,  to  tho  British  Fair, 
Forbids,  and  leads  me  to  the  mountain  brow. 
Where  sits  the  shepherd  on  the  grassy  turf. 
Inhaling,  healthful,  the  descending  sun. 
Around  him  feeds  his  many-bleating  flock. 
Of  various  cadence  ;  and  his  sportive  lambs, 
This  way  and  that  convolved,  in  friskful  glee, 
Their  frolics  play.     And  now  the  sprightly  race 
Invites  them  forth  ;  when  swift,  the  signal  given. 
They  start  away,  and  sweep  the  massy  mound 
That  runs  around  the  hill  ;  the  rampart  once 
Of  iron  war,  in  ancient  barbarous  times, 
M'hen  disunited  Britain  ever  bled. 
Lost  in  eternal  broil  :  ere  yet  she  grew 
To  this  deep-laid  indissoluble  state, 
Where  Wealth  and  Commerce  lift  their  golden  heads  ; 
And  o'er  our  labors  Liberty  and  Law, 
Impartial,  watch  ;  tho  wonder  of  a  world  ! 

CREATIVt:   I.OVE.  —  INSTINCT.  —SPRING,   THE  SMILE   OF   COD. 


What  is  this  mighty  breath,  ye  sages,  say, 
That,  in  a  powerful  language,  felt,  not  heard, 
Instructs  the  fowls  of  heaven,  and  through  their  breast 
These  arts  of  love  diffuses  ?     What,  but  God  ? 
Inspiring  God  !  who,  boundless  Spirit  all, 
And  unremitting  Energy,  per^-ades. 
Adjusts,  sustains,  and  agitates  the  whole. 
He  ceaseless  works  alone  ;  and  yet  alone 
Seems  not  to  work  :  with  such  perfection  framed 
Is  this  complex,  stupendous  scheme  of  things. 
But,  though  (^ncealed,  to  every  purer  eye 
The  informing  Author  in  his  works  appears  : 
Chief,  lovely  Spring  !  in  thee,  and  thy  soft  scenes, 
The  smiling  God  is  seen  ;  while  water,  earth, 
And  air  attest  his  bounty  ;  which  exalts 
The  brute  creation  to  this  finer  thought. 


KURAL    POETRY. 


And,  annual,  molts  their  undesigning  hearts 
Profusely  thus  in  tenderness  and  joy. 


Still  let  my  song  a  nobler  note  assume, 
And  sing  the  infusive  force  of  Spring  on  Man  ; 
When  heaven  and  earth,  as  if  contending,  vie 
To  raise  his  being,  and  serene  his  soul. 
Can  ho  forbear  to  jniii  i'.f  ^.tucihI  smilo 
Of  Nature?     Can  ti.  m  ,.  |,;, ..„.,,-  >,a  his  breast, 

While  every  gale  is  i-.- ,  ;mm1  .--i y  ,i;rove 

Is  melody?     Hcucu  I  lium  thu  Ijvunti'uus  walks 

Of  flowing  Spring,  ye  sordid  sons  of  earth, 

Hard,  and  unfeeling  of  anothei-'s  woe, 

Or  only  lavish  to  yourselves,  away  ! 

But  come,  ye  generous  minds,  in  whose  wide  thought, 

Of  all  liis  works,  creative  Bounty  burns 

^Vitll  warmest  iK-ain  ;   and  on  your  open  front 

And  liberal  eye  sits,  from  his  dark  retreat 

Inviting  modest  Want.     Nor,  till  invoked. 

Can  restless  Goodness  wait ;  your  active  search 

Leaves  no  cold  wintry  corner  unexplored  ; 


l;luwa  fpiiug  abroad  ;   for  you  the  teeming  clouds 
Descend  in  gladsome  plenty  o'er  the  world  ; 
And  the  sun  sheds  his  kindest  rays  for  you. 
Ye  flower  of  Human  Race  ! 


In  these  green  days. 
Reviving  Sickness  lifts  her  languid  head  ; 
Life  flows  afresh  ;   and  young-eyed  Health  exalts 
The  whole  creation  round.     Contentment  walks 
The  sunny  glade,  and  feels  an  inward  bliss 
Spring  o'er  his  mind,  beyond  the  power  of  kings 
To  purchase.     Pure  serenity  apace 
Induces  tliciu;j;ht  and  contemplation  still. 
By  switi  'l>  ^M  '  '  i!m    I    \ ,   ..f  Nature  works. 
And  \\:ii        I'         I       1 1 1 1  at  last  sublimed 
To  ra|iiir, .      ,,!  .  1,1  i.ii     r-ii,-  heat. 
We  feel  t!iL  |iii,.-ei.i  Ikity,  and  taste 
■■IV  of  Uou  to  see  a  happy  world  ! 


These  are  the  sacred  feelings  of  thy  heart. 
Thy  heart  informed  by  reason's  purer  ray, 
0  Lyttelton,'  the  friend  !  thy  passions  thus 
And  meditations  vary,  as  at  large,  [stray'st ; 

Coui'ting    the   Muse,    through   Hagley  Park   thou 
Thy  Brii..     Tempe  2  !    There,  alons;  the  dale 

1  George.  Lord  Lyttelton, -III'    I      -    !    ~ii    I'    ini^.  Rnr- 


With  woods  o'erhung  and  shagged  with  mossy  rocks, 

Whence  on  each  hand  the  gushing  waters  play. 

And  down  the  rough  cascade  white-dashing  fall. 

Or  gleam  in  lengthened  vista  through  the  trees. 

You  silent  steal  ;  or  sit  beneath  the  shade 

Of  solemn  oaks,  that  tuft  the  swelling  mounts 

Thrown  graceful  round  by  Nature's  careless  hand. 

And,  pensive,  listen  to  the  various  voice 

Of  rural  peace  ;  the  herds,  and  flocks,  the  birds. 

The  hollow-wliispering  breeze,  the  plaint  of  rills. 

That,  purling  down  amid  the  twisted  roots 

Which  creep  around,  their  dewy  murmurs  shako 

On  the  soothed  ear.     From  these  abstracted  oft. 

You  wander  through  the  philosophic  world, 

Where  in  bright  train  continual  wonders  rise 

Or  to  the  curious  or  the  pious  eye. 

And  oft,  conducted  by  historic  truth. 

You  tread  the  long  extent  of  backward  time  ; 

Planning,  with  warm  benevolence  of  mind 

And  honest  zeal  unwarped  by  party  rage, 

Britannia's  weal  ;  how  from  the  venal  gulf 

To  raise  her  virtue,  and  her  arts  revive. 

Or,  turning  thence  thy  view,  these  .graver  thoughts 

The  Muses  charm  ;  while,  with  sure  taste  refined, 

You  draw  the  inspiring  breath  of  ancient  song. 

Till  nobly  rises,  emulous,  thy  own. 


Perhaps  thy  loved  Lucinda  shares  thy  walk. 
With  soul  to  thine  attuned.     Then  Nature  all 
Wears  to  the  lover's  eye  a  look  of  love  ; 
And  all  the  tumult  of  a  guilty  world, 
Tossed  by  ungenerous  passions,  sinks  away. 
The  tender  heart  is  animated  peace  ; 
And  as  it  pours  its  copious  treasures  forth 
In  varied  converse,  softening  every  theme, 
You,  frequent-pausing,  turn,  and  from  her  eyes, 
Where  meekened  sense  and  amiable  grace 
And  lively  sweetness  dwell,  enraptured,  drink 
That  nameless  spirit  of  ethereal  joy, 
Unutterable  happiness  !  which  love 
Alone  bestows,  and  on  a  favored  few. 

THE  PROSPECT  AT  HiCLET   PiBK. 

Meantime  you  gain  the  height  from  whose  fair  brow 
The  bursting  prospect  spreads,  immense,  around  : 
And  snatched  o'er  hill  and  dale,  and  wood  and  lawn. 
And  verdant  field,  and  darkening  heath  between. 
And  villages  embosomed  soft  in  trees. 
And  spiry  towns  by  surging  columns  marked 
Of  household  smoke,  your  eye  excursive  roams  : 
Wide-stretching  from  the  hall,  in  whose  kind  haunt 
The  Hospitable  Genius  lingers  still. 
To  where  the  broken  landscape,  by  degrees 
Ascending,  roughens  into  rigid  hills  ; 
O'er  which  the  Cambrian  mountains,  like  far  clouds 
That  skirt  the  blue  horizon,  dusky  rise. 


THE   MAmEN   IN  SPKISG.  —  EFFECTS   OF    LOVE.  —  WA 

Flushed  by  the  spirit  of  the  genial  year. 
Now  from  the  virgin's  cheek  a  fresher  bloom 


SPRING  —  MARCH. 


13 


Shoots,  loss  and  loss,  tho  livo  carnation  round  j 
Her  lips  blush  deeper  sweets  :  she  breathes  of  youth ; 
Tlie  shining  moisture  swells  into  her  eyes, 
In  brighter  flow  ;  her  wishing  bosom  heaves 
With  palpitations  wild  ;  kind  tumults  seize 
Uer  veins,  and  all  her  yielding  soul  is  love. 
From  tho  keen  gaze  her  lover  turns  away, 
Full  of  the  dear  ecstatic  power,  and  sick 
M'ith  sighing  languishmcnt.     Ah,  then,  yo  fair  ! 
Bo  greatly  cautious  of  your  sliding  hearts  : 
Dare  not  tho  infectious  sigh,  the  pleading  look. 
Downcast  and  low,  in  meek  submission  dressed, 
But  full  of  guile.     Let  not  the  fervent  tongue. 
Prompt  to  deceive,  with  adulation  smooth. 
Gain  on  your  purposed  will.     Nor  in  tho  bower, 
AVhcro  woodbines  flaunt,  and  roses  shed  a  couch. 
While  Evening  draws  her  crimson  curtains  round, 
Trust  your  soft  minutes  with  betraying  man. 

Yonrn  waksed  from  lawless  lovk.  —  its  e.\brv.itu.o 

And  let  tho  aspiring  youth  beware  of  love. 
Of  tho  smooth  glance  beware  ;  for  't  is  too  late 
When  on  his  heart  tho  torrent-softness  pours. 
Then  wisdom  prostrate  lies,  and  fading  fame 
Dissolves  in  air  away  ;  while  the  fond  soul, 
Wrapped  in  gay  visions  of  unreal  bliss. 
Still  paints  the  illusive  form  ;  the  kindling  grace  ; 
The  enticing  smile  ;  the  modest  seeming  eye. 
Beneath  whose  beauteous  bcanit!,  belying  heaven, 
Lurk  scarehless  cunning,  cruelty,  and  death  ; 
And  still,  falsc-warbling  in  his  cheated  ear, 
Her  sirt.-ii  \  li  .     I  ti  i'laijiiiLr.  draws  him  on 
Toguil.ln!  ,     ..is  of  fatal  joy. 

E'en] 1  :     .  ,  i    .    ■...^   l;ipofl.:.vc 

Ingloriiiii-  1...  I  ,    V.  111].'  ii..i'i..  Hows  around, 
Perfumes,  and  oils,  and  wine,  and  wanton  hours  ; 
Amid  the  roses  fierce  Repentance  rears 
Her  snaky  crest :  a  quick-returning  pang         [still 
Shoots  through  the  conscious  heart ;   where  honor 
And  great  design,  against  the  oppressive  load 
Of  luxury,  by  fits,  impatient  heave. 


But  absent,  what  fantastic  woes,  aroused. 
Rage  in  each  thought,  by  restless  musing  fed, 
Chill  the  warm  cheek,  and  blast  the  bloom  of  life  ! 
Neglected  fortune  flies  ;  and,  sliding  swift. 
Prone  into  ruin  fall  his  scorned  affairs. 
'T  is  naught  but  gloom  around  ;  tho  darkened  sun 
Loses  his  light ;  the  rosy-bosomed  Spring 
To  weeping  fancy  pines  ;  and  yon  bright  arch. 
Contracted,  bends  into  a  dusky  vault. 
All  Nature  fiwlcs  extinct ;  and  she  alone. 
Heard,  felt,  and  seen,  possesses  every  thought. 
Fills  every  sense,  and  pants  in  every  vein. 
Books  are  but  fonnal  dulness,  tedious  friends  ; 
And  sad  amid  tho  social  band  he  sits. 
Lonely,  and  unattcntivc.     From  his  tongue 
Tho  unfinished  period  falls  :  while,  borne  away 
On  swelling  thought,  his  waflod  spirit  flies 


To  the  vain  bosom  of  his  distant  fair  ; 
And  leaves  the  semblance  of  a  lover,  fixed 
In  melancholy  site,  with  head  declined. 
And  love-dojeeted  eyes.     Sudden  he  starts. 
Shook  from  his  tender  trance,  and  restless  runs 
To  glimmering  shades  and  sympathetic  glooms  ; 
Where  tho  dun  umbrage  o'er  the  falling  stream. 
Romantic,  hangs  ;  there  through  the  pensive  dusk 
Strays,  in  heart-thrilling  meditation  lost, 
Indulging  all  to  love  :  or  on  the  bank 
Thrown,  amid  drooping  lilies,  swells  the  breeze 
With  sighs  unceasing,  and  the  brook  with  tears. 


Thus  in  soft  anguish  ho  consumes  the  day. 
Nor  quits  his  deep  retirement,  till  the  moon 
Peeps  throH^h  the  chambei-s  of  the  fleecy  cast, 
EnliL'l.t.  H.  .1  1..    li  _-..■. -s,  and  in  her  train 
I'.:.  I         I       _    II      lli.urs;  then  forth  he  walks, 
i!.  .1'  I  '  I     I  i  i .  1 1  u' languish  of  her  beam,  * 

Willi      II.  iM  .1  -...il.  iiii.l  woos  the  bird  of  eve 
To  miji^'lu  woes  with  his  ;  or,  while  the  world 
And  all  the  sons  of  Care  lie  hushed  in  sleep, 
Associates  with  tho  midnight  shadows  drear  ; 
And,  sighing  to  the  lonely  taper,  pours 
His  idly-tortured  heart  into  the  page 
Meant  for  the  moving  messenger  of  love  ; 
Where  rapture  burns  on  rapture,  every  line 
With  rising  frenzy  fired.     But,  if  on  bed 
Delirious  flung,  sleep  from  his  pillow  flies. 
All  night  he  tosses,  nor  the  balmy  power 
In  any  posture  finds  ;  till  the  gray  morn 
Lifts  her  pal,e  lustre  on  the  paler  wretch, 
Exanimate  by  love  :  and  then  perhaps 
Exhausted  nature  sinks  tt  while  to  rest. 
Still  interrupted  by  distracted  dreams. 
That  o'er  the  sick  imagination  rise, 
And  in  black  colors  paint  the  mimic  scene. 

Oft  with  the  enchantress  of  his  soul  ho  talks  ; 
Sometimes  in  crowds  distressed  ;  or  if  retired 
To  secret,  winding,  flower-enwoven  bowers. 
Far  from  the  dull  impertinence  of  man. 
Just  as  he,  credulous,  his  endless  cares 
Begins  to  lose  in  blind  oblivious  love. 
Snatched  from  her  yielded  hand,  he  knows  not  how. 
Through  forests  huge,  and  long  untravclled  heaths 
With  desolation  brown,  ho  wanders  waste. 
In  night  and  tempest  wrapped  ;  or  shrinks  aghast. 
Back,  from  the  bending  precipice  ;  or  wades 
The  turbid  stream  below,  and  strives  to  reach 
Tho  further  shore  ;  where,  succorless  and  sad. 
She  with  extended  anna  his  aid  implores  ; 
But  strives  in  vain  ;  borne  by  the  outrageous  flood 
To  distance  down,  he  rides  the  ridgy  wave. 
Or  whelmed  beneath  tho  boiling  eddy  sinks. 


These  are  the  charming  agonies  of  love, 
Whoso  misery  delights.     But  through  tho  heart 
Should  jealousy  its  venom  onco  diffuse. 


RURAL    POETRY. THOMSON. 


'T  is  then  delightful  misery  no  more, 

But  agony  unmixed,  incessant  gall, 

Corroding  every  thought  and  blasting  all 

Love's  paradise.     Ye  fairy  prospects,  then. 

Ye  beds  of  roses,  and  ye  bowers  of  joy, 

Farewell !     Ye  gleamings  of  departed  peace, 

Shine  out  your  last !  the  yellow-tinging  plague 

Internal  vision  taints,  and  in  a  night 

Of  livid  gloom  imagination  wraps. 

Ah,  then  !  instead  of  love-enlivened  cheeks. 

Of  sunny  features,  and  of  ardent  eyes 

With  flowing  rapture  bright,  dark  looks  succeed, 

Suflfused  and  glaring  with  untender  fire  ; 

A  clouded  aspect,  and  a  burning  cheek, 

"Where  the  whole  poisoned  soul,  malignant,  sits, 

And  frightens  love  away.     Ten  thousand  fears 

Invented  wild,  ten  thousand  frantic  views 

Of  horrid  rivals,  hanging  on  the  charms 

For  which  he  melts  in  fondness,  eat  him  up 

With  fervent  anguish  and  consimiing  rage. 

In  vain  reproaches  lend  their  idle  aid. 

Deceitful  pride,  and  resolution  frail. 

Giving  false  peace  a  moment.     Fancy  pours, 

Afresh,  her  beauties  on  his  busy  thought, 

Her  first  endearments  twining  round  the  soul 

With  all  the  witchcraft  of  ensnaring  love. 

Straight  the  fierce  storm  involves  his  mind  anew. 

Flames  through  the  nerves  and  boils  along  the  veins; 

AVhile  anxious  doubt  distracts  the  tortured  heart : 

For  e'en  the  sad  assurance  of  his  fears 

Were  ease  to  what  he  feels.     Thus  the  warm  youth. 

Whom  love  deludes  into  his  thorny  wilds, 

Through  flowery-tempting  paths,  or  leads  a  life 

Of  evered  rapture,  or  of  cruel  care  ; 

His  brightest  aims  extinguished  all,  and  all 

His  lively  moments  running  down  to  waste. 

A  HAPPY  MARBIAGE  UNION.  —  SELFISH  PASSION  ;  TRUE  LOVE. 

But  happy  they  !  the  happiest  of  their  kind  ! 
AYhom  gentler  stars  unite,  and  in  one  fate 
Their  hearts,  their  fortunes,  and  their  beings  blend. 
'T  is  not  the  coarser  tie  of  human  laws. 
Unnatural  oft,  and  foreign  to  the  mind, 
That  binds  their  peace,  but  harmony  itself. 
Attuning  all  their  passions  into  love  ; 
Where  friendship  full  exerts  her  softest  power, 
Perfect  esteem  enlivened  by  desire 
Ineffable,  and  sympathy  of  soul ; 
Thought  meeting  thought,  and  will  preventing  will. 
With  boundless  confidence  :  for  naught  but  love 
Can  answer  love,  and  render  bliss  secure. 
Let  him,  ungenerous,  who,  alone  intent 
To  bless  himself,  from  sordid  parents  buys 


The  loathing  virgin,  in  eternal  care. 
Well-merited,  consume  his  nights  and  days  : 
Let  barbarous  nations,  whose  inhuman  love 
Is  wild  desire,  fierce  as  the  suns  they  feel  ; 
Let  Eastern  tyrants  from  the  light  of  heaven 
Seclude  their  bosom-slaves,  meanly  possessed 
Of  a  mere  lifeless  violated  form  : 
While  those  whom  love  cements  in  holy  faith, 
And  equal  transport,  free  as  Nature  live. 
Disdaining  fear.     ^\Tiat  is  the  world  to  them. 
Its  pomp,  its  pleasure,  and  its  nonsense  all. 
Who  in  each  other  clasp  whatever  fair 
High  fancy  forms,  and  lavish  hearts  can  wish  ; 
Something  than  beauty  dearer,  should  they  look 
Or  on  the  mind,  or  mind-illumined  face  : 
Truth,  goodness,  honor,  harmony,  and  love, 
The  richest  bounty  of  indulgent  Heaven  ? 


Meantime  a  smiling  offspring  rises  round. 
And  mingles  both  their  graces.     By  degrees. 
The  human  blossom  blows  ;  and  every  day. 
Soft  as  it  rolls  along,  shows  some  new  charm. 
The  father's  lustre,  and  the  mother's  bloom. 
Then  infant  reason  grows  apace,  and  calls 
For  the  kind  hand  of  an  assiduous  care. 
Delightful  task  !  to  rear  the  tender  thought, 
To  teach  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot. 
To  pour  the  fresh  instruction  o'er  the  mind. 
To  breathe  the  enlivening  spirit,  and  to  fix 
The  generous  purpose  in  the  glowing  breast. 


0,  speak  the  joy  !  ye,  whom  the  sudden  tear 
Surprises  often,  while  you  look  around, 
And  nothing  strikes  your  eye  but  sights  of  bliss. 
All  various  Nature  pressing  on  the  heart : 
An  elegant  sufficiency,  content. 
Retirement,  rural  quiet,  friendship,  books. 
Ease  and  alternate  labor,  useful  life. 
Progressive  virtue,  and  approving  Heaven  ! 
These  are  the  matchless  joys  of  virtuous  love  ; 
And  thus  their  moments  fly.     The  Seasons  thus,  I 

As  ceaseless  round  a  jarring  world  they  roll. 
Still  find  them  happy  ;  and  consenting  Spring 
Sheds  her  own  rosy  garland  on  their  heads  : 
Till  evening  comes  at  last,  serene  and  mild  ; 
When  after  the  long  vernal  day  of  life. 
Enamored  more  as  more  remembrance  swells 
With  many  a  proof  of  recollected  love. 
Together  down  they  sink  in  social  sleep  ; 
i  Together  freed,  their  gentle  spirits  fly 
I  To  scenes  where  love  and  bliss  immortal  reign. 


|);istor;ils  for  \\n  #rst  llfck  of  Itarcl). 

SPENSER'S  "MARCH." 

Thomalin,  have  no  care  for-thy. 

AN    ECLOGUE. 

Myself  will  have  a  double  eye 

A  II  r.  U  M  E  K  T  . 

Ylike  to  my  flock  and  thine  ; 

For,  alas  !  at  homo  I  have  a  sire, 

to  discourse  of  love,  described  here  as  a  person.    One  of 

A  stopdame  eke,  as  hot  as  fire, 

them  relates  a  story  of  his  haying  discovered  him  lately, 
hid  in  a  bush,  and  of  his  being  wounded  by  him. 

That  duly  adays  counts  mine. 

Tbomalin,  why  sittcn  wo  so 
As  weren  overwent  with  woo, 

THOUALLV. 

Nay,  but  thy  seeing  will  not  serve  ; 

My  sheep  for  that  may  chance  to  swerve, 

And  fall  into  some  mischief ; 

Upon  so  fiiir  ft  morrow? 
The  joyous  time  now  nigheth  fast 
That  shall  alegg  this  bitter  blast, 

For  sithens  is  but  the  third  morrow 
That  I  chaunst  to  fall  asleep  with  sorrow, 

And  slake  the  Winter  sorrow. 

And  waked  again  with  grief ; 

The  while  thilk  same  unhappy  ewe, 

TnOJlALIS. 

Whose  clouted  leg  herself  doth  shew. 

Siker,  Willy,  thou  warnest  well ; 

Fell  headlong  into  a  dell, 

For  Winter's  wrath  begins  to  quell, 

And  then  unjointed  both  her  bones  ; 

And  pleasant  Spring  appeareth  ; 

Mought  her  neck  been  jointed  attones, 

The  grass  now  'gins  to  bo  rcfresht, 

She  should  have  need  no  more  spell ; 

The  swallow  peeps  nut  of  her  nest. 

Th'  elf  was  so  wanton  and  so  wood. 

And  cloudy  welkin  clcareth. 

(But  now  I  trow  can  better  good) 

WILLT. 

She  mought  no  gang  on  the  green. 

Seest  not  thilk  same  ha>rthorn  stud. 

WILLY. 

How  bragly  it  begins  to  bud 

Let  be  as  may  be  that  is  past ; 

And  utter  his  tender  head  ? 

That  is  to  come  let  bo  forecast ; 

Flora  now  callcth  forth  each  flower. 

Now  tell  us  what  thou  hast  seen. 

AwD.i.U  ,n:,k.-  yr:,.\y  Maia's  bowcr. 

Th^t  „.«  .-  „|.n-.  Inanbed: 

THOMALIK. 

Tho.-hall  «..  ,-|„„|.n  „■  delight. 

It  was  upon  a  holy-day. 

And  learn  with  Lettiee  to  wex  light 

When  shepherd's  grooms  han  leave  to  play, 

That  scornfully  looks  askaunee  ; 

I  cast  to  go  a  shooting  ; 

Tho  will  we  little  Love  awake. 

Long  wandering  up  and  down  tho  land, 

That  now  siccpcth  in  Lethe  lake. 

With  bow  and  bolts  in  either  hand. 

And  pray  hini  leaden  our  dauncc. 

For  birds  in  bushes  tooting  ; 

At  length,  within  the  ivy  tod 

TnoMAl.lN. 

(There  shrouded  was  tho  little  god) 

Willy,  I  ween  thou  be  a  sot ; 

I  heard  a  busie  bustling  ; 

For  lusty  Love  still  sleepeth  not. 

I  bent  my  bolt  against  the  bush. 

But  is  abroad  at  his  game. 

Lisfning  if  anything  did  rush. 

WILLY 

But  then  heard  no  more  lustling. 

How  kenst  thou  that  ho  is  awoke? 

Tho  peeping  close  into  the  quick, 

Or  hast  thyself  his  slumber  broke? 
Or  made  privy  to  tho  same? 

Whose  shape  appeared  not, 

But,  were  it  fairy,  fiend,  or  snake. 

My  courage  earn'd  it  to  awake. 

TIIOMALIS. 

And  manfully  thereat  shot : 

No  ;  but  happily  I  him  spido. 

With  that  sprang  forth  a  naked  swain, 

flTien  in  a  bush  ho  did  him  hide, 

With  spotted  wings  like  peacock's  train. 

With  wings  of  purple  and  blue  ; 

And,  laughing,  lope  to  a  tree  ; 

And  were  not  that  my  sheep  would  straj-. 

His  gilden  ((uivor  at  his  back, 

The  privy  marks  I  would  bewray 

And  silver  bow  which  was  but  slack. 

Whereby  by  chance  I  him  knew. 

Which  lightly  ho  bent  at  me  : 

16 


RURAL  POETRY.  —  SPENSER  —  GRAY. 


'  pi'iy* 


That  seeing,  I  levelled  again, 

And  shot  at  him  with  might  and  mam, 

As  thick  as  it  had  hailed. 
So  long  I  shot  that  all  was  spent. 
Though  pumy  stones  I  hastily  hent. 

And  threw,  but  nought  availed. 
He  was  so  nimble  and  so  wight, 
From  bough  to  bough  he  leaped  light. 

And  oft  the  pumies  latched  : 
Therewith,  afraid,  I  ran  away  ; 
But,  he  that  earst  seemed  but  t 

A  shaft  in  earnest  snatched, 
And  hit  me,  running,  in  the  heel 
For  then  I  little  smart  did  feel. 

But  soon  it  sore  increased  ; 
And  now  it  rankleth  more  and  m 
And  inwardly  it  festreth  sore, 

Ne  wot  I  how  to  ceaso  it. 


Thomalin,  I  pity  thy  plight ! 

Perdy  with  Love  thou  diddest  fight,  — 

I  know  him  by  a  token  ; 
For  once  I  heard  my  father  say 
How  he  him  caught  upon  a  day 

(Whereof  he  will  be  wroken) 
Entangled  in  a  fowling-net. 
Which  he  for  carrion  crows  had  set. 

That  in  our  pear-tree  haunted  ! 
Tho  said  he  was  a  winged  lad, 
But  bow  and  shafts  as  then  none  had, 

Else  had  he  sore  be  daunted. 
But,  see  !  the  welkin  thicks  apace, 
And  stooping  Phoebus  steeps  his  face,  — 

It 's  time  to  haste  us  homeward. 


WILLY'S   ESIBLEM. 

iunted  scarce  to  gods  . 
thomalin's  EMBLESI. 


*  VICISSITUDE: 


THE  HARMONY  OF    NATURAL  AND   MORAL  CHANGES. 
A    LYRIC    IDVL. 

Now  the  golden  morn  aloft 

Waves  her  dew-bespangled  wing, 
AVith  vermil  cheek  and  whisper  soft, 

She  woos  the  tardy  Spring  ; 
Till  April  starts,  and  calls  around 
The  sleeping  fragrance  from  the  ground. 
And  lightly  o'er  the  living  scene 
Scatters  his  freshest,  tenderest  greeu. 

New-born  flocks,  in  rustic  dance 

Frisking,  ply  their  feeble  feet ; 
Forgetful  of  their  wintry  trance, 

The  birds  his  presence  greet : 
But  chief  the  skylark  warbles  high 
His  trembling,  thrilling  ecstasy  ; 
And,  lessening  from  the  dazzled  sight. 
Melts  into  air  and  liquid  light. 

Yesterday  the  sullen  year 

Saw  the  snowy  whirlwind  fly  ; 
Mute  was  the  music  of  the  air, 

The  herd  stood  drooping  by  ; 
Their  raptures  now,  that  wildly  flow. 
No  yesterday  nor  morrow  know  ; 
'T  is  man  alone  that  joy  descries. 
With  forward  and  reverted  eyes. 

Smiles  on  past  misfortune's  brow 

Soft  reflection's  hand  can  trace, 
And  o'er  the  cheek  of  sorrow  throw 

A  melancholy  grace  : 
WTiile  hope  prolongs  our  happier  hour  ; 
Or  deepest  shades,  that  dimly  lower, 
And  blacken  round  our  weary  way, 
Gilds  with  a  gleam  of  distant  day. 


iY  TO   THE    ABOVE. 


I  surely  ;  quell,  diminish  in 
i    utter,  ])ut  forth  ;    Mala, 


Still  where  rosy  pleasure  leads, 

See  a  kindred  grief  pursue. 
Behind  the  steps  that  misery  treads 

Approaching  comfort  view  : 
The  hues  of  bliss  more  brightly  gl  >w 
Chastised  by  sabler  tints  of  woe  ; 
And  blended  form,  with  artful  strife, 
The  strength  and  harmony  of  life. 


hertla  •,  han,  have  ;  cast,  in..!  i  ■.  ■  ■:  .i  :..■,-,  i  .  .i . 

in;?,  seeking  ;  tod,  thick  Ihih.Ii  ,  .,  [.    ,,  :  ■    ._  im  I.  ,  ■  .,i  ..M, 

moved;  lope,  leaped  ;  giMni,  ^-ili  ;    [niiii) ,  |.ii ■  ;    li.di, 

gathered  up,  took  up  ;  wimble,  shilting  ;  wi^'lit,  i\yuck,  en- 
ergetic ;  hatched,  caught ;  earst,  at  first,  before ;  wote, 
know  ;  perdy,  par  Dieu,  verily  ;  wroken,  revenged  ;  tho, 
at  that  time  }  be,  been }  Plioebus,  the  suu  }  steeps,  descends 


See  the  wretch  that  long  has  tost 

On  the  thorny  bed  of  pain. 
At  length  repair  his  vigor  lost. 

And  breathe  and  walk  again  ! 
The  meanest  flow'ret  of  the  vale, 
The  simplest  note  that  swells  the  gale 
The  common  sun,  the  air,  tho  skies, 
To  him  are  opening  Paradise. 


SPRING — MARCH. 


THEOCRITOS'S  "DAPHNIS." 

J.  M.  CHAPMAN,  M.i 


Sweet  is  the  music  wliicli  the  whispering  pine 
Maiccs  to  the  murmuring  fountain  ;  sweet  is  thine, 
Breathed  from  the  pipe  :  the  second  prize  thy  duo  — 
To  Pan,  the  horned  ram  ;  to  thee,  the  ewe  ; 
And  thine  the  yearling,  when  the  ewe  he  talces  — 
A  savory  mess  the  tender  yearling  makes. 

Sweeter  thy  song  than  yonder  gliding  down 
Of  water  from  the  rock's  o'orhanging  crown  ; 
If  a  ewe-sheep  for  fee  the  Aluses  gain, 
Thou,  shepherd  !  shalt  a  stall-fed  lamb  obtain  ; 
But  if  it  rather  please  the  tuneful  nine 
To  take  the  lamb,  the  ewe  shall  then  be  thine. 


0,  wilt  thou,  for  the  Nymphs'  sake,  goatherd  !  fill 
Thy  pipe  with  music  on  this  sloping  hill, 
Where  grow  the  tamarisks  ?     Wilt  sit,  dear  friend, 
And  play  for  me  while  I  thy  goats  attend  ? 


We  must  not  pipe  at  noon  in  any  case  ; 
For  then  Pan  rests  him,  wearied  from  the  chase. 
Him,  quick  to  wrath,  wo  fear,  as  us  befits  ; 
On  his  keen  nostril  sharp  gall  ever  sits. 
But  thou  —  to  thee  the  griefs  of  Daphnis  known, 
.And  the  first  skill  in  pastoral  song  thine  own  — 
Come  to  yon  elm,  into  whose  shelter  deep 
Afront  Priapus  and  the  Naiads  peep —  [seat : 

Where  the  thick  oaks  stand  round  the  shepherd's 
There,  sitting  with  me  in  that  cool  retreat, 
If  thou  wilt  sing  03  when  thou  didst  content 
With  Lybian  Chromis  which  could  sing  the  best, 
Tliine,  Thyrsis,  this  twin-bearing  goat  shall  be, 
That  fills  two  milk-pails  thrice  a  day  for  me  ; 
And  this  deep  ivy-cup,  with  sweetest  wax 
Bedewed,  twin-eared,  that  of  the  graver  smacks. 
Around  its  lips  lu-sh  ivy  twines  on  high. 
Sprinkled  with  drops  of  bright  cassidony  ; 
And  as  the  curling  ivy  spreads  around. 
On  every  curl  the  saflron  fruit  is  found. 
With  flowing  robe  and  Lydian  head-dress  on. 
Within,  a  woman  to  the  life  is  done  — 
An  exquisite  design  !  on  either  side 
Two  men  with  flowing  locks  each  other  chide. 
By  turns  contending  for  the  woman's  love  ; 
But  not  a  whit  her  mind  the  pleadings  move. 
One  while  she  gives  to  this  a  glance  and  smile. 
And  turns  and  smiles  on  that  another  while. 


'  Dnphnis,  s 


Mercury,  was  ! 


shepherd  i 


This  beautiful  poem  is  the  first  of  the  Idyls  of  Theocritus, 
who  aourishol  in  the  latter  pan  of  the  third  century  B.  C. 
He  is  called  the  father  of  pastoral  poetry,  such  .-is  the  *  ec- 
lo^e,'  *  bucolic,'  *  idyl,'  *  pastoral,*  &c.,  and  is  imitjited  by 
all  other  writers  of  i>astorals,  from  Virgil  downwards.  But 
the  Hebrew  idyl,  calltU  *  Solomon's  Song,'  is  earlier  by  seven 
hundred  years, and  the  pofltoral  poem  of  *Job'  is  still  more 
ancient.  —  J. 


But  neither  any  certain  favor  gains  — 

Only  their  eyes  are  swollen  for  their  pains. 

Hard  by,  a  rugged  rock  and  fisher  old, 

Who  drags  a  mighty  net,  and  seems  to  hold, 

Preparing  for  the  cast :  he  stands  to  sight, 

A  fisher  putting  forth  his  utmost  might. 

A  youth's  strength  in  the  gray-head  seems  to  dwell. 

So  much  the  sinews  of  his  neck  ouUwell. 

And  near  that  old  man  with  his  sea-tanned  hue. 

With  purple  grapes  a  vineyard  shines  to  view. 

A  little  boy  sits  by  the  thorn-hedge  trim. 

To  watch  the  grapes  —  two  foxes  watching  him  : 

One  through  the  ranges  of  the  vines  proceeds, 

And  on  the  hanging  vintage  slyly  feeds  ; 

The  other  plots  and  vows  his  scrip  to  search. 

And  for  his  breakfast  leaves  him —  in  the  lurch. 

Meanwhile  he  twines  and  to  a  rush  fits  well 

A  locust-trap,  with  stalks  of  asphodel ; 

And  twines  away  with  such  absorbing  glee, 

Of  scrip  or  vines  ho  never  thinks  —  not  he  ! 

The  juicy,  curled  acanthus  hovers  round 

Th'  ^Eolian  cup  —  when  seen  a  marvel  found. 

Hither  a  Caledonian  skipper  brought  it. 

For  a  great  cheese-cake  and  a  goat  I  bought  it ; 

Untouched  by  lip,  this  cup  shall  be  thy  hire. 

If  thou  wilt  sing  that  song  of  sweet  desire, 

I  envy  not :  begin  !  the  strain  outpour  ; 

'T  will  not  be  thine  on  dull  Oblivion's  shore. 


Begin,  dear  Muses  !  the  bucolic  strain  ; 
For  Thyrsis  sings,  your  own  ^tnean  swain. 
Where  were  ye,  nymphs!  when  Daphnis  pined  away, 
Where  through  his  Tempe  Peneus '  loved  to  stray, 
Or  Pindus  lifts  himself?     Ye  were  not  here  — 
Where  broad  Anapus  flows  or  Acis'  clear, 
Or  where  tall  JEtna  looks  out  on  the  main. 

Begin,  dear  Muses  !  the  bucolic  strain  : 
From  out  the  mountain-lair  the  lions  growled. 
Wailing  his  death  —  the  wolves  and  jackals  howled. 

Begin,  dear  Muses  !  the  bucolic  strain  : 
Around  him,  in  a  long  and  mournful  train. 
Sad-faced,  a  number  of  the  horned  kind. 
Heifers,  bulls,  cows,  and  calves,  lamenting  pined. 
Begin,  io. 

First,  Hermes 3  from  the  mountain  came  and  said: 
"  Daphnis,  by  whom  art  thou  disquieted? 
For  whom  dost  thou  endure  so  fierce  a  flame  ?  " 

Begin,  Ac. 
Then  cowherds,  goatherds,  shepherds,  thronging  came, 
And  asked  what  ailed  him.     E'en  Priapus  <  went. 
And  said:  "  Sad  Daphnis,  why  this  languishment? 
In  every  grove,  by  fountains  far  and  near. 

Begin,  Ac. 
Thee  the  loved  girl  is  seeking  everywhere. 

1  s  3  4  Peneus  is  a  river  flowing  from  Mount  Pindus  through 
Tempe,  a  valley  of  Thessaly  ;  Anapus  and  Acis  arc  streams 
of  Sicily  -,  Hermes  is  the  Greek  for  Mercury  ;  Priapus  was 
the  god  of  gardens. 


18 


RURAL  POETRY. THEOCRITUS. 


Ah,  foolish  lover  !  to  thyself  unkind, 
Miscalled  a  cowherd,  with  a  goatherd's  mind  ! 

Begin,  Ac. 
The  goatherd,  when  he  sees  his  goats  at  play, 
Envies  their  wanton  sport,  and  pines  away. 
And  thou,  at  sight  of  virgins,  when  they  smile. 
Dost  looli  with  longing  eyes,  and  pine  the  while, 
Because  with  them  the  dance  thou  dost  not  lead." 
No  word  he  answered,  but  his  grief  did  feed. 
And  brought  to  end  his  love,  that  held  him  fast. 
And  only  ended  with  his  life  at  last. 

Begin,  &c. 
Then  Cypris^  came,  the  queen  of  soft  desire, 
Smiling  in  secret,  but  pretending  ire. 
And  said :  "To  conquer  love  did  Daphnis  boast ; 
But,  Daphnis,  is  not  love  now  uppermost  ?  " 

Begin,  Ac. 
Her  answered  he  :  "  Thou  cruel  sorrow-feeder  . 
Curst  Cypris  !  mankind's  hateful  mischief-breeder  ! 
'T  is  plain  my  sun  is  set :  but  I  shall  show 
The  blight  of  love  in  Hades'  house  below. 

'  Where  Cypris  kissed  a  cowherd ' —  men  will  speak  — 
Hasten  to  Ida  !  thine  Anchises^  seek  ! 
Around  their  hives  swarmed  bees  are  humming  here. 
Here  the  low  galingale  —  thick  oaks  are  there. 

Begin,  &o. 
Adonis,  the  fair  youth,  a  shepherd  too. 
Wounds  hares,  and  doth  all  savage  beasts  pursue. 

Begin,  &c. 
Go  !  challenge  Diomede  to  fight  with  thee  — 
<  I  tame  the  cowherd  Daphnis,  fight  with  me.' 

Begin,  &a. 
Ye  bears,  who  in  the  mountain  hollows  dwell. 
Ye  tawny  jackals,  bounding  wolves,  farewell ! 
The  cowherd  Daphnis  never  more  shall  rove 
In  quest  of  you,  through  thicket,  wood,  and  grove  ! 
Farewell,  ye  rivers,  that  your  stream  profuse 
From  Thymbris'  pour  !  farewell,  sweet  Arethuso  ! 

Begin,  Ac. 
I  drove  my  kino  —  a  cowherd  whilome  here  — 
To  pleasant  pasture,  aud  to  water  clear. 

Begin,  &c. 

1  Voims,  parliculai-ly  worshipped  on  the  island  of  Cyprus, 
whence  she  is  called  the  Paphian  queen,  the  Cyprian  queen, 
and  Cypris.  .       ,  , 

2  Daphnis,  determined  not  to  yield  to  the  passion  of  love, 
with  which  Venus,  the  goddess  of  Love,  afflicted  him  even  to 
death,  taunts  her  with  Anchises,  Adonis,  and  Diomede,  her 
lovers  at  various  times.    See  the  Classical  Dictionaries. 

3  Thymbris  is  the  name  of  a  mountain  of  Sicily. 


Pan  !  Pan  ! '  if  seated  on  a  jagged  peak 

Of  tall  Lyncaeus  =  now  ;  or  thou  dost  seek 

The  height  of  Maenalus^  —  leave  them  a  while, 

And  hasten  to  thy  own  Sicilian  isle. 

The  tomb  which  ever  gods  admire  leave  now  — 

Lycaon's-*  tomb  and  Helice'sS  tall  brow. 

Cease,  cease,  ye  Muses  !  the  bucolic  strain. 
Hasten,  my  king  !  and  take  this  pipe  that  clips," 
Uttering  its  honey  breath,  the  player's  lips. 
For  even  now,  dragged  downward,  must  I  go. 
By  love  dragged  down  to  Hades'  house  below. 

Cease,  cease,  ye  Muses,  &c. 
Now  violets  ye  thorns  and  brambles  bear  ! 
Narcissus  now  on  junipers  appear  ! 
And  on  the  pine-tree  pears !     Since  Daphnis  dies. 
To  their  own  use  all  things  be  contraries  ! 
The  stag  trail  hounds  ;  in  rivalry  their  song 
The  mountain-owls  with  nightingales  prolong  ! " 

Cease,  cease,  Ac. 
He  said,  and  ceased  :  and  Cypris  wished,  indeed. 
To  raise  him  up,  but  she  could  not  succeed  ; 
His  fate-allotted  threads  of  life  were  spent. 
And  Daphnis  to  the  doleful  river'  went,      [scorned, 
The  whirlpool   gorged  him  —  by  the  Nymphs  not 
Dear  to  the  Muses,  and  by  them  adorned. 

Cease  !  cease,  ye  Muses  !  the  bucolic  strain. 
Give  me  the  cup  and  goat  that  I  may  drain 
The  pure  milk  from  her  ;  and,  for  duty's  sake, 
A  due  libation  to  the  Muses  make. 
All  hail,  ye  Muses !  hail,  and  favor  me. 
And  my  hereafter  song  shall  sweeter  be. 


Honey  and  honey-combs  melt  in  thy  mouth, 
And  figs  from  AegilusS  !  for  thou,  dear  youth. 
The  musical  cicada  ^  dost  excel. 
Behold  the  cup  !  how  sweetly  doth  it  smell  ! 
'T  will  seem  to  thee  as  though  the  lovely  Hours 
Had  newly  dipt  it  in  their  fountain  showers. 
Hither,  Cissaetha!  milk  her!  yearling  friskers. 
Forbear  —  behold  the  ram's  huge  beard  and  whiskers! 


td  personification  of  ( 


;  god  of  shepherds, 


;  world  of  shades. 

J  for  the  best  tips. 
i  several  varieties. 


Ijcsioii's    "(ilGrhs    ani)    Hai) 

900    TO    1000    B.    C. 
TRANSLATED  FKOM  THE  GKEEK  BY  C.  A.  ELTON. 


THE   AGES  OF  HUMANITY. 

FKOM    "WORKS,"    PARI   I. 


When  gods  alike  and  mortals  rose  to  birth, 
A  golden  race  tiie  immortals  formed  on  earth 
Of  many-languaged  men  ;  they  lived  of  old, 
When  Saturn  reigned  in  heaven,  an  age  of  gold. 
Like  gods  they  lived,  with  calm,  untroubled  mind  ; 
Free  from  the  toils  and  anguish  of  our  kind  : 
Nor  e'er  decrepid  age  misshaped  their  frame,  — 
The  hand's,  the  foot's  proportions  still  the  same. 
Strangers  to  ill,  their  lives  in  feasts  flowed  by  ; 
Wealthy  in  flocks  ;  dear  to  the  blest  on  high  : 
Dying  thoy  sank  in  sleep,  nor  seemed  to  die. 
Theirs  was  each  good  ;  the  life-sustaining  soil 
Yielded  its  copious  fruits,  unbribed  by  toil  ; 
They  with  abundant  goods,  midst  quiet  lands. 
All  willing  shared  the  gatherings  of  their  hands. 


When  earth's  dark  womb  had  closed  this   race 
around,  [ground. 

High   Jove   as   da^nons'  raised    them=   from   the 
Earth-wandering  spirits '  they  their  charge  began. 
The  ministers  of  good,<  and  guards  of  man. 
Mantled  with  mist  of  darkling  air  they  glide, 
And  compass  earth,  and  pass  on  every  side  ; 
And  mark,  with  earnest  vigilance'  of  eyes, 
Where  just  deeds  live,  or  crooked  wrongs  arise  ; 
Their  kingly  state  ;"  and,  delegate  from  heaven, 
By  their  vicarious  hands  the  wealth  of  fields  is  given. 


1  The  dtemons,  or  daimonts,  amon^  the  ancients,  were 
spirits,  either  goal  nr  had.  Our  modern  word  denious  is 
always  used  in  a  bad  sense. 

-  An  immortality  of  the  soul  is  here  distinctly  enunci- 
ated, and  also  the  origin  of  angels  from  the  human  race. 

3  Compare  J<ib  1 :  7. 

<  Compare  lUb.  1 :  14 ;  Gen.  19  :  1,  16 ;  17  :  2,  8  ; 
2  Kings  6 :  17. 

1  Compare  Daniel  4 :  17  i  1  Corinthians  4:  9;  Colos- 
sians2:  18. 

»  That  is, '  their  state  is  kingly,'  Implying,  says  Elton, 
the  '  administration  of  forensic  justice.'  The  original  — 
and  it  is  the  closing  sentence  of  the  description  —  is  simply, 
*iind  thev  (got  or)  had  this  kingly  (gift,  endowment)  of- 
tiie ;  •  wh'ifh  m.'ans.  :is  1  uml.isniii.l  il.  Hit-  truly  kingly  oflicc 
of  biinir  sutis,  I'liaritMh",  l'i"!^,  'T  d>-;il' is  nf  gcxKls,  benefac- 

nmn. '^'rvuiii'iVo  Uiko  23;  25  j  .Murk  10  :  44 ;  Rom.  la  : 


The  gods  then  formed  a  second  race  of  man, 
Degenerate  far  ;  and  silver  years  began. 
Unlike  the  mortals  of  a  golden  kind  : 
Unlike  in  frame  of  limbs  and  mould  of  mind. 
Yet  still  a  hundred  years  beheld  the  boy 
Beneath  the  mother's  roof,  her  infant  joy  ; 
All  tender  and  unformed  •  but  when  the  flower 
Of  manhood  bloomed,  it  withered  in  an  hcmr. 
Their  frantic  follies  wrought  them  pain  and  woe 
Nor  mutual  outrage  could  their  hands  forego ; 
Nor  would  they  serve  the  gods  ;  nor  altars  raise 
That  in  just  cities  shed  their  holy  blaze. 
Them  angry  Jove  ingulfed  ;  who  dared  refuse 
The  gods  their  glory  and  their  sacred  dues  ; 
Yet  named  the  second-blest  in  earth  they  lie, 
And  second  honors  grace  their  memory. 


The  Sivp  ..f  l,.-!ivi.ii  and  earth  created  then 
A  r;ir,  ,  tlf  (iiii  1    1  niiiiiy-lauguaged  men. 
T'nlikL-ili'   -iK'i  i!n  y:  uf  brazen  mould, 
Willi  a-lLrii  iv:ii->iii  ;ns,  terrible  and  bold  ; 
Their  thoughts  were  bent  on  violence  alono. 
The  deeds  of  battle,  and  the  dying  groan. 
Bloody  their  feasts,  with  wheaten  food  unblest ; 
Of  adamant  was  each  unyielding  breast. 
Huge,  nerved  with  strength,  eaeh  hardy  giant  stands, 
And  mocks  approach  with  unresisted  hands  : 
Their  mansions,  implements  and  armor  shino 
In  brass  ;  dark  iron  slept  within  the  mine. 
They  by  each  other's  hands  inglorious  fell, 
In  freezing  darkness  plunged,  the  house  of  hell ; 
Ficrccthouglitli.  v«.  IV,  ili.ir  iimrtal  course  was  run; 
Death  gloomy  s<i/'>  I  :ui4  -n.it-  lud  them  from  the  sun. 


Them  when  the  abyss  had  covered  from  the  skies 
Lo  !  the  fourth  ago  on  nurturing  earth  arise  : 
Jove  formed  the  race  a  lu-tter,  juster  line  ; 
A  race  of  her.n-  ;iirl  -I  -i.hii|.  divine  ; 
Lights  of  the  :i_-   1    il  !   I.  our  own; 

As  demigods  mVi  -  ,u i     i  >  .;i"n  known. 

Y'et  these  dread  ijattle  huriied  to  tlieir  end  : 
Some  where  the  seven-fold  gates  of  Thebes  a.scend  ; 
The  Cadmian  realm,  where  they  with  fatal  miglit 
Strove  for  the  flocks  of  iEdipus  in  fight. 


20 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  HESIOD. 


Some  war  in  naties  led  to  Troy's  far  shore ; 

O'er  the  great  space  of  sea  their  course  they  bore  ; 

For  sake  of  Helen  with  the  beauteous  hair  : 

And  death  for  Helen's  sake  o'erwhelmed  them  there. 

Them  an  earth's  utmost  verge  the  god  assigned 

A  life,  a  seat  distinct  from  human  kind  : 

Beside  the  deepening  whirlpools  of  the  main, 

In  those  blest  isles  where  Saturn  holds  his  reign, 

Apart  from  heaven's  immortals  :  calm  they  share 

A  rest  unsullied  by  the  clouds  of  care  : 

And  yearly  thrice  with  sweet  luxuriance  crowned, 

Springs  the  ripe  harvest  from  the  teeming  ground. 


0,  would  that  Nature  had  denied  me  birth 
Midst  this  fifth  raee  ;  this  iron  age  of  earth  : 
That  long  before  within  the  grave  I  lay. 
Or  long  hereafter  could  behold  the  day  ! 
Corrupt  the  race  ;  with  toils  and  griefs  opprest, 
Nor  day  nor  night  can  yield  a  pause  of  rest. 
Still  do  the  gods  a  weight  of  care  bestow. 
Though  still  some  good  is  mingled  with  the  woe. 
Jove  on  this  race  of  many-languaged  man, 
Speeds  the  swift  ruin  which  but  slow  began  : 
For  scarcely  spring  they  to  the  light  of  day, 
Ere  age  untimely  strews  their  temples  gray. 
No  fathers  in  the  sons  their  features  trace  : 
The  sons  reflect  no  more  the  fathers'  face  ; 
The  host  with  kindness  greets  his  guest  no  more. 
And  friends  and  brethren  love  not  as  of  yore. 
Reckless  of  heaven's  revenge,  the  sons  behold 
The  hoary  parents  wax  too  swiftly  old  : 
And  impious  point  the  keen  dishonoring  tongue, 
With  hard  reproofs  and  bitter  mockery  hung  : 
Nor,  grateful,  in  declining  age  repay 
The  nurturing  fondness  of  their  better  day. 
Now  man's  right  hand  is  law  :  for  spoil  they  wait. 
And  lay  their  mutual  cities  desolate. 
Unhonored  he  by  whom  his  oath  is  feared  ; 
Nor  are  the  good  beloved,  the  just  revered. 
"With  favor  graced  the  evil-doer  stands. 
Nor  curbs  with  shame  nor  equity  his  hands  ; 
With  crooked  slanders  wounds  the  virtuous  man, 
And  stamps  with  perjury  what  hate  began. 
Lo  !  ill-rejoicing  Envy,  winged  with  lies. 
Scattering  calumnious  rumors  as  she  flies, 
The  steps  of  miserable  men  pm'sue 
With  haggard  aspect,  blasting  to  the  view. 
Till  those  fair  foiTOS  in  snowy  raiment  bright 
Leave  the  broad  earth,   and  heavenward  soar  from 
Justice  and  Modesty  from  mortals  driven,      [sight : 
Rise  to  the  immortal  family  of  heaven  : 
Dread  sorrows  to  forsaken  man  remain  ; 
No  cure  of  ills,  no  remedy  of  pain.' 


ANCIENT   GREEK   HUSB.UsDRY. 

FROM    "WORKS,"    PART  II. 


When,  Atlas-born,  the  Pleiad  stars  arise  * 
Before  the  sun  above  the  dawning  skies, 
'T  is  time  to  reap  ;  and  when  they  sink  below 
The  morn-illumined  West,  't  is  time  to  sow. 
Know  too  they  set,  immerged  into  the  sun. 
While  forty  days  entire  their  circle  run  ; 
And  with  the  lapse  of  the  revolving  year, 
When  sharpened  is  the  sickle,  reappear. 
Law  of  the  fields,  and  known  to  every  swain 
AVho  turns  the  fallow  soil  beside  the  main  ; 
Or  who,  rciiii'tr  finiii  liillnwr  ocean's  gales. 
Tills  the  ri.l.  ul-lr  .il  in] l-winding  vales. 

Plough  iiiil.ril-  ^lill,  iiii.l  Hiikcd  sow  the  soil. 
And  naked  i^aii  ;    il  kimlly  tn  thy  toil 
Thou  hope  to  gather  all  that  Ceres  yields. 
And  view  thy  crops  in  season  crown  the  fields  ; 
Lest  thou  to  strangers'  gates  penurious  rove. 
And  every  needy  effort  fruitless  prove. 

That  I  shall  give  or  lend  thee  of  my  store. 


0,  foolish  Perses  !  be  the  labors  thine 
AMiioh  the  good  gods  to  earthly  man  assign  ; 
Lr-I  nitli  thy  >|iniise,  thy  babes,  thou  vagrant  ply, 
A II' I  -mhi.w  in-  'iinr  those  arms  which  all  deny. 
'r\M'  ■  iii:i>  iii\   I'liiints  benignant  favor  gain. 
Anil  liiiiily  ilii  iir  in:iy  not  be  poured  in  vain  ; 
If  still  persisting  plead  thy  wearying  prayer. 
Thy  words  are  naught,  thy  eloquence  is  air. 
Did  exhortation  move,  the  thought  should  be. 
From  debt  releasement,  days  from  hunger  free. 

PROVIDE  WELL  ;   AVOID  ffiLENKSS  AND   PEOCRASTINATIO!!. 

A  house,  a  woman,  and  a  steer  provide. 
Thy  slave  to  tend  the  cows,  but  not  thy  bride. 
Within  let  all  fit  implements  abound. 
Lest,  with  refused  entreaty  wandering  round. 
Thy  wants  still  press,  the  season  glide  away. 
And  thou  with  scanted  labor  mourn  the  day. 
Thy  task  defer  not  till  the  moon  arise. 
Or  the  third  sun  the  unfinished  work  surprise  ; 
The  idler  never  shall  his  garners  fill. 
Nor  he  that  still  defers  and  lingers  still. 
Lo  !  diligence  can  prosper  every  toil  ; 
The  loiterer  strives  with  loss,  and  execrates  the  soil. 


■\Vhen  rests  the  keen  strength  of  the  o  erpowering 
From  heat  that  made  the  pores  in  rivers  run  ;  [sun, 

I  This  was,  then,  about  May  11 ;  their  cosmical  setting 
was  early  in  November  ;  their  heliacal,  on  April  3d. 

'  That  is,  stripped  of  the  outer  garments,  as  the  word  is 
used  John  21 :  7  ;  Conip.  Mat.  24 :  18.  The  precept  is  equiv- 
alent to  saying,  Do  your  work  thorouglily  and  earnestly  ■, 
'  strip  to  it,'  and  keep  at  it  diligently,  for  winter  is  coming. 


21 


When  rushes  in  fresh  rains  autumnal  Jove, 
And  man's  unburthencd  limbs  now  lighter  move  ; 
For  now  the  star  of  day  with  transient  light 
Rolls  o'er  our  hoads  and  joys  in  longer  night ; 
M'hcn  frcm  the  wnrm  the  forest  boles  are  sound, 
TriM-  l.iiil  iH.  iiiui.',  hut  earthward  cost  around 
Tlirir  wiih'-i  in;;  l'..li;ii;e,  then  remember  well 
The  tiiii..l.v  lal)ni-.  iLud  thy  timber  fell. 


Hew  from  the  wood  a  mortar  of  three  feet, 


CWiwr  mui,y-ear\ra  l>lnrks  tliy  ^^h<■>A  t-.  round, 
And  let  three  spans  its  utmust  orbit  bouud  ; 
AVhereon  slow-rolling  thy  suspended  wain, 
Ten  spans  in  breadth,  may  traverse  firm  the  plain. 

HOW  TO  MAKE   A   PLOUGH. 

If  hill  or  field  supply  a  holm-oak  bough 
Of  bending  figure  like  the  downward  plough, 
Bear  it  away  :  this  durable  remains 
While  the  strong  steers  in  ridges  cleave  the  plains  : 
If  with  firm  nails  thy  artist  join  the  whole, 
Affix  the  share-beam,  and  adapt  the  pole. 

Two  ploughs  provide,  on  household  works  intent, 
This  art-compacted,  that  of  native  bent : 
A  prudent  forethought  :  one  may  crashing  fail, 
The  other,  instant  yoked,  shall  jjrompt  avail. 
Of  elm  or  bay  the  draught-polo  firm  endures  ; 
The  plough-tail  holm,  the  share-beam  oak  secures. 


PROPER  AGE  FOR  ' 


PLOUG&MAS. 


Two  males  procure  :  be  nine  their  sum  of  years  : 
Tli>  II  !i,ih.i;il  -1  I.I  I  i;x  for  toil  the  sturdy  steers  : 
N  I  i-trong-struggling  spurn  the  soil 

Ai   ■        ,  ,      I -li  and  mar  the  unfinished  toil, 

hi  i.^.i[\\-  [-;uii^  iiiy  ploughman  :  one  with  bread 
Of  fuur-stjuared  luaf  in  double  portions  fed. 
He  steadily  shall  cut  the  furrow  true, 
Nor  towards  his  fellows  glance  a  rambling  view  ; 
Still  on  his  task  intent :  a  stripling  throws 
Heedless  the  seed,  and  in  one  furrow  strews 
The  lavish  handful  twice  ;  while  wistful  stray 
His  longing  thoughts  to  comrades  far  away. 


Mark  yearly,  when  among  the  clouds  on  high 
Thou  hear'st  the  shrill  crane's  migratory  cry. 
Of  ploughing  time  the  sign  and  wintry  rains  : 
Care  gnaws  his  heart  who  destitute  remains 
Of  the  fit  yoke  ;  for  then  the  season  fulls 
To  feed  thy  horned  sti-crs  within  their  stalls. 

Easy  to  speak  the  word,  "  Bosoeoh  thee  friend  ! 
Thy  waggon  and  thy  yoke  of  oxen  lend  : " 
Easy  the  prompt  refutsal  ;  **  Nay,  but  I 
Have  need  of  oxen,  and  their  work  is  nigh." 


Rich  in  bis  own  conceit,  be  then  too  late 
May  think  to  rear  the  waggon's  timbered  weight : 
Fool !  nor  yet  knows  the  complicated  frame 
A  hundred  seasoned  blocks  may  fitly  claim  : 
These  let  thy  timely  care  provide  before, 
And  pile  beneath  thy  roof  the  ready  store. 
Improve  the  season,  to  the  plough  apply 
Both  thou  and  thine  ;  and  toil  in  wet  and  dry  : 
Haste  to  the  field  with  break  of  glimmering  mom, 
That  so  thy  grounds  may  wave  with  thickening  com. 

SOWlNn.  —  BKUGIOl-8    BITES  TO  BE  DIXV   OBSKRVBD. 

Ill  .spring  upturn  the  glebe  :  and  break  again 
With  sunuuLT  tilth  the  iterated  plain. 
It  shall  nut  mock  thy  hopes  :  be  lost  thy  toil. 
Raised  in  light  ridge,  to  sow  the  fallowed  soil : 
The  fallowed  soil  bids  execration  fly, 
And  brightens  with  content  the  infant's  eye. 

Jove  subterrcne,!  chaste  Ceres  claim  thy  vow. 
When,  grasping  first  the  handle  of  the  plough, 
O'er  thy  broad  oxen's  backs  thy  quickening  hand 
With  lifted  stroke  lets  fall  the  goading  wand  ; 
Whilst,  yoked  and  harnessed  by  the  fastening  thong, 
They  slowly  drag  the  draught-pole's  length  along. 
So  shall  the  sacred  gifts  of  earth  appear. 
And  ripe  luxuriance  clothe  the  plenteous  ear. 

A  boy  should  tread  thy  steps  :  with  rake  o'erlay 
The  buried  seed,  and  scare  the  birds  away. 

PLENTY    TOE    RESULT     OF    A    KIND    PROVIDENCE    AND    GOOD 


Good  is  the  apt  economy  of  things. 
While  evil  management  its  mischief  brings  : 
Thus,  if  aerial  Jove  ^  thy  cares  befriend. 
And  crown  thy  tillage  with  a  prosperous  end. 
Shall  the  rich  ear  in  fulness  of  its  grain 
Nod  on  the  stalk  and  bend  it  to  the  plain. 
So  shalt  thou  sweep  the  spider's  films  away. 
That  round  thy  hollow  bins  lie  hid  from  day  ; 
I  ween  ;  rejoicing  in  the  foodful  stores 
Obtained  at  length,  and  laid  within  thy  doors  : 
For  plenteousness  shall  glad  thee  through  the  year 
Till  the  white  blossoms  of  the  spring  appear  : 
Nor  thou  on  others'  heaps  a  gazer  be, 
But  others  owe  their  borrowed  store  to  thee. 


If,  ill-advised,  thou  turn  the  genial  plains. 
His  wintry  tropic  when  the  sun  attains  ; 
Thou,  then,  mayst  reap,  and  idle  sit  between  : 
Mocking  thy  gripe  the  meagre  stalks  are  seen  : 
Whilst,  little  joyful,  gather'st  thou  in  bands 
The  com  whose  chaffy  dust  bestrews  thy  hands. 
In  one  scant  basket  shall  thy  harvest  lie, 
And  few  shall  pass  tliee,  then,  with  honoring  eye. 


3  be  due.    Ceres  w 


1  of  crops,  grain,  and  flowers. 


22 


RURAL    POETRY.  ■ 


Now  thus,  now  otherwise  is  Jove's  design  ; 
To  men  inscrutable  the  ways  divine  ; 
But  if  thou  late  upturn  the  furrowed  field, 
One  happy  ohance  a  remedy  may  yield. 
O'er  the  wide  earth  when  men  the  cuckoo  hear 
From  spreading  oali-leaves  first  delight  their  ea 
Three  days  and  nights  let  heaven  in  ceaseless  ra 
Deep  as  thy  ox's  hoof  o'erflow  the  plains  ; 
So  shall  an  equal  crop  thy  time  repair 
With  his  who  earlier  launched  the  shining  share 
Lay  all  to  heart :  nor  let  the  blossomed  hours 
Of  spring  escape  thee  ;  nor  the  timely  showers. 


Pass  by  the  brazier's  forge  where  loiterers  meet, 
Nor  saunter  in  the  portico's  thronged  heat  ; 
When  in  the  wintry  season  rigid  cold 
Invades  the  limbs  and  binds  them  in  its  hold, 
Lo  !  then  the  industrious  man,  with  thriving  store, 
Improves  his  household  management  the  more  : 
And  this  do  thou  :  lost  intricate  distress 
Of  winter  seize,  and  needy  cares  ojipress  : 
Lest,  famine-smitten,  thou,  at  liiii;tli,  In-  seen 
To  gripe  thy  tumid  foot  niih  liiiml  Im.iii  luiiiycr  lean. 
Pampering  his  empty  b.iii.>.  v.t  iir,.<liii-  food. 
On  ill  designs  behold  thu  i.ll.-i  l.iood  : 
Sit  in  the  crowded  portico  and  feed 
On  that  ill  hope,  while  starving  with  his  need. 
Thou  in  midsummer  to  thy  laborers  cry, 
"  Make  now  your  nests,"  for  summer  hours  will  fly. 

A  WINTER  STORM    FEOM  THE   NORTH   DESCRIBED.  —  SHELTER. 

Beware  the  January  month  ;  beware 
Those  hurtful  days,  that  keenly-piercing  air 
Which  flays  the  herds ;  those  frosts  that  bitter  sheathe 
The  nipping  air,  and  glaze  the  ground  beneath. 
From  Thraoia,  nurse  of  steeds,  comes  rushing  forth, 
O'er  the  broad  sea,  the  whirlwind  of  the  north, 
And  moves  it  with  his  breath  :  then  howl  the  shores 
Of  earth,  and  long  and  loud  the  forest  roars. 
He  lays  the  oaks  of  lofty  foliage  low. 
Tears  the  thick  pine-trees  from  the  mountain's  brow. 
And  strews  the  valleys  with  their  overthrow. 
He  stoops  to  earth  ;  shrill  swells  the  storm  around, 
And  all  the  vast  wood  rolls  a  deeper  roar  of  sound. 
The  beasts  their  cowering  tails  with  trembling  fold. 
And  shrink  and  shudder  at  the  gusty  cold  ; 
Thick  is  the  hairy  coat,  the  shaggy  skin. 
But  that  all-chilling  breath  shall  pierce  within. 
Not  his  rough  hide  can  then  the  ox  avail : 
The  long-haired  goat  defenceless  feels  the  gale  : 
Yet  vain  the  north-wind's  rushing  strength  to  wound 
The  flock,  with  thickening  fleeces  fenced  around. 
He  bows  the  old  man,  crooked  beneath  the  storm  ; 
But  spares  the  smooth-skinned  virgin's  tender  form. 
Yet  from  bland  Venus'  mystic  rites  aloof, 
She  safe  abides  beneath  her  mother's  roof  : 
The  suppling  waters  of  the  bath  sho  swims. 
With  shining  ointment  sleeks  her  dainty  limbs  ; 


In  her  soft  chamber  pillowed  to  repose. 

While  through  the  wintry  nights  the  tempest  bio 


Now  gnaws  the  boneless  polypus  his  feet ; 
Starved  midst  bleak  rooks,  his  desolate  retreat  : 
For  now  no  more  the  sun  with  gleaming  ray 
Through  seas  transparent  lights  him  to  his  proy. 
O'er  the  swarth  .^thiop  rolls  his  bright  career. 
And  slowly  gilds  the  Grecian  hemisphere. 
And  now  the  horned  and  unhorned  kind. 
Whoso  lair  is  in  the  wood,  sore-famished  grind 
Their  sounding  jaws,  and  frozen  and  quaking  fly 
Where  oaks  the  mountain  dells  imbranch  on  high  : 
They  seek  to  eouch  in  thickets  of  the  glen. 
Or  lurk  deep-sheltered  in  the  rocky  den. 
Like  aged  men,  who,  propped  on  crutches,  tread. 
Tottering  with  broken  strength  and  stooping  head. 
So  move  the  beasts  of  earth  ;  and,  creeping  low. 
Shun  the  white  flakes  and  dread  the  drifting  snow. 


I  warn  thee,  now,  around  thy  body  cast 
A  thick  defence,  and  covering  from  the  blast : 
Let  the  soft  cloak  its  woolly  warmth  bestow  : 
The  under-tunio  to  thy  ankle  flow  : 
On  a  scant  warp  a  woof  abundant  weave  ; 
Thus  warmly-woven  the  mantling  cloak  receive  : 
Nor  shall  thy  limbs  beneath  its  ample  fold 
With  bristling  hairs  start  shivering  to  the  cold. 
Shoes  from  the  hide  of  a  strong-dying  ox 
Bind  round  thy  feet;  lined  thick  with  woollen  socks: 
And  kid-skins  'gainst  the  rigid  season  sew, 
AVith  sinew  of  the  bull,  and,  sheltering,  throw 
Athwart  thy  shoulders  when  the  rains  impend  ; 
And  let  a  well-wrought  cap  thy  head  defend,  [scend. 
And  screen  thine  ears  while  drenching  showers  de- 


Bleak  is  the  morn  when  blows  the  north  from  high ; 
Oft  when  the  dawnlight  paints  the  starry  sky, 
A  misty  cloud  suspended  hovers  o'er 
Heaven's  blessed  earth  with  fertilizing  store 
Drained  from  the  living  streams  :  aloft  in  air 
The  whirling  winds  the  buoyant  vapor  bear, 
Resolved  at  eve  in  rain  or  gusty  cold. 
As  by  the  north  the  troubled  rack  is  rolled. 
Preventing  this,  the  labor  of  the  day 
Accomplished,  homeward  bend  thy  hastening  way : 
Lest  the  dark  cloud,  with  whelming  rush  deprest. 
Drench  thy  cold  limbs,  and  soak  thy  dripping  vest. 


This  winter  month  with  prudent  caution  fear  : 
Severe  to  flocks,  nor  less  to  men  severe  ; 
Feed  thy  keen  husbandman  with  larger  bread  : 
With  half  their  provender  thy  steers  be  fed  : 
Them  rest  assists  :  the  night's  protracted  length 
Recruits  their  vigor  and  supplies  their  strength. 
This  rule  observe,  while  still  the  various  earth 
Gives  every  fruit  and  kindly  seedling  birth  ; 


SPRING  —  MARCH. 


23 


Still  to  tho  toil  proportionate  the  choor, 
The  day  to  night,  and  equalize  the  year. 


"When  from  tho  wintry  tropic  of  the  sun  ^ 
Full  sixty  (lays  thuir  finished  round  have  run, 
Lo  !  then  tho  saorod  deep  Arcturus  leave, 
First  whole-apparent  on  tho  verge  of  eve. 
Through  the  gray  dawn  the  swallow  lifts  her  wing, 
Mom-plaining  bird,  the  harbinger  of  spring. 

Anticipate  tho  time  :  tho  cnro  be  thino 
An  earlier  day  tn  jn  m,-  fin  !i  -  l^i_-  \  ine. 
When  the  housi'-lM  I!  I  ^^Iy  found 

To  shun  the  Pleiii'l  I'    i     i     i;  i  iIr- ground,' 

And  climb  the  pbuif    till    !■  m,  m  i-i  no  more 
To  dress  the  vine,  but  give  the  vineyard  o'er. 
Whet  the  keen  sickle,  hasten  every  swain, 
From  shady  booths,  from  morning  sleep  refrain. 
Now,  in  the  fervor  ut'  tin-  har\.  -t-.lay. 
VHien  the  strong  mim  ,1i-.,.|\,  -  riir  iVaiiR-  away. 
Now  haste  afield  ;    ii^w  ImimI  ih_\  ^h-'afy  corn. 
And  earn  thy  food  hy  ri.-in;;  witli  the  morn. 
Lo  !  the  third  portion  of  thy  labor's  cares 
Tho  early  morn  anticipating  shares: 
In  early  mom  the  labor  swiftly  wastes  : 
In  early  morn  the  speeded  journey  hastes. 
The  time  when  many  a  traveller  tracks  the  plain, 
And  the  yoked  oxen  bond  them  to  the  wain. 


When  the  green  artichoke  ascending  flowers, 
^Vhen,  in  tho  sultry  season's  toilsome  hours. 
Perched  on  a  branch,  beneath  his  veiling  wings, 
The  loud  cicada  shrill  and  frequent  sings  ; 
Then  the  plumi)  goat  a  savory  food  bestows, 
The  poignant  wine  in  mellowest  flavor  flows  : 
Wanton  the  blood  then  bounds  in  woman's  veins, 
But  weak  of  man  tho  beat  enfeebled  reigns. 
Full  on  his  brain  d'Mrmls  tlu-  s.^lar  flame, 
Unnerves  the  laii;;ui'i  km  ,  -,  :i!i.l  all  tho  frame, 
Exhaustive,  dries  n\\:iy      n,  thru,  Iiu  thine 

And  goal's  inilK,  -tiniil  I  iMm  the  kid,  to  slake 
Thy  thirst,  ami  .  :ii  iIm    -li-  [.hord'screamy  cake  : 
The  flesh  nt"  iir\\-.liM],f  kM-^  and  youngling  cows, 
That,  never  teeming,  eropt  the  forest  browse. 
With  dainty  food  so  saturate  thy  soul. 
And  drink  the  wine  dark-mautling  in  the  bowl  : 
While  in  the  cool  and  breezy  gloom  reclined 
Thy  face  is  turned  to  catch  the  breathing  wind  ; 
And  feel  the  freshening  brook,  whoso  living  stream 
Glides  at  thy  foot  with  clear  and  sparkling  gleam  : 
Three  parts  its  waters  in  thy  cup  should  flow, 
The  fourth  with  brimming  wine  may  mingled  glow. 

^  The  winter  solstice,  in  the  time  of  Heslod,  occurred  on 
the  30th  December.  The  rising  of  Arcturus  toolt  place  on 
Uie  5tli  of  March, 

3  A  thin.  Thraclan  wine 


iXTS  ;   DOG  }   FODDEB. 


"Wheni  first  Orion's  beamy  strength  is  born, 
Let  then  thy  laborers  thresh  tho  sacred  corn  : 
Smooth  bo  the  level  floor,  on  gusty  ground, 
Where  winnowing  gales  may  sweep  in  eddies  round. 
Hoard  in  thy  ample  bins  the  meted  grain  : 
And  now,  as  I  advise,  thy  hireling  swain 
From  forth  thy  house  dismiss,  when  all  the  store 
Of  kindly  food  is  laid  within  thy  door  : 
And  to  thy  service  let  a  female  come  ; 
But  childless,  for  a  child  were  burthensoine. 
Keep,  too,  a  sharp-toothed  dog,  nor  thrifty  spare 
To  feed  his  fierceness  high  with  generous  fart', 
Lost  the  day-slumbering  thief  thy  nightly  door 
Wakeful  besiege,  and  pilfer  from  thy  store. 
For  ox  and  mule  tho  yearly  fodder  lay 
Within  thy  loft ;  tho  heapy  straw  and  hay  : 
This  care  despatched,  refresh  the  bending  knees 
Of  thy  tired  hinds,  and  give  thy  unyoked  oxen  ease. 


^^'hen  Sirius  and  Orion  the  mid-sky 
Ascend,  and  on  Arctums'  looks  from  high 
The  rosy-fingered  mnrn,  tho  vintage  cnll.<  : 
Then  bear  tlo-  -.-il,.  n^.l  _.,i|H.-  ^^;rl,;,,  tl,v  walls. 
Ten  days  an-l  i,i      ;         .  i  |,,y 

Basked  in  tlii    I.  _    i  ,v  : 

Let  five  their  Til  ■  h:,.^^  i..u:,.l  ■  ,i. ■■■>■. h.  ■■  m,,, 
WTiilst  lie  thy  fraiU  oVrshadod  from  the  .sun  : 
The  sixth  in  vats  tho  gifts  of  Bacchus  press  ;    [ncss. 
Of  Bacchus*  gladdening  earth  with  store  of  pleasant- 

But  when  beneath  tho  skies  on  morning's  brink 
The  Pleiads,  Ilyads,  and  Orion  sink  ;3 
Know  tlien  the  ploughing  and  the  seed-time  near  : 
Thus  well-disposed  shall  glide  thy  Rustic  Year. 


HESIOD'S   "BAYS." 

ANCIENT  StH'ERSTITIONS   COSXECTED   WTTO  THK  DAYS  OP  TOE 
MONTH,   AS    LCCKY  OR  CSLCCKT. 

Thy  household  teach  a  decent  heed  to  pay, 
And  well  observe  each  Jove -appointed  day. 

The  thirtieth  <  of  the  moon  inspect  with  care 
Thy  servants'  tasks,  and  all  their  rations  share  : 
What  time  the  people  to  the  courts  repair.* 
These  days  obey  the  all-wise  Jove's  behc-^t  : 
The  first  new  moon,  the  fourth,  the  seventh  is  blest: 
Phojbus,  on  this,  from  mild  Latona  born. 
The  golden-swordod  god,  beheld  the  mora. 


of  the  Pleiads 


f.Tuly. 


the  French,  during  their  first  re 
were  held  in  the 
in  the  afternoon. 


well  as  the  Orientals, 
ivfl.  The  Greek  month 
ys  ;  this  wiis  cnpiet)  by 


24 


KURAL    POETRT. HESIOD. 


The  eighth,  nor  less  the  ninth,  with  favoring  skies, 
Speeds  of  the  increasing  month  each  rustic  enterprise ; 
And  on  the  eleventh  let  thy  Bocks  be  shorn, 
And  on  the  twelfth  be  reaped  thy  laughing  corn. 
Both  days  are  good  :  yet  is  the  twelfth  confest 
More  fortunate,  with  fairer  omen  blest. 
On  this  the  air-suspended  spider  treads 
In  the  full  noon  his  fine  and  self-spun  threads  ; 
And  the  wise  emmet,  tracking  dark  the  plain. 
Heaps  provident  the  store  of  gathered  grain. 
On  this  let  careful  woman's  nimble  hand 
Throw  first  the  shuttle  and  the  web  expand. 

On  the  thirteenth  forbear  to  sow  thy  grain  ; 
But  then  the  plant  shall  not  be  set  in  vain. 
The  sixteenth  profitless  to  plants  is  deemed, 
Auspicious  to  the  birth  of  men  esteemed  ; 
But  to  the  virgin  shall  unprosperous  prove, 
Then  born  to  light,  or  joined  in  wedded  love. 

So  to  the  birth  of  girls  with  adverse  ray 
The  sixth  appears,  an  unpropitious  day  ; 
But  then  the  swain  may  fence  his  wattled  fold. 
And  cut  his  kids  and  rams  ;  male  births  shall  then 
This  day  is  fond  of  biting  gibes  and  lies,     [be  bold. 
And  jocund  tales,  and  whispered  sorceries. 

Cut  on  the  eighth  the  goat,  and  lowing  steer. 
And  hardy  mule  ;  and  when  the  noon  shines  clear, 
Seek  on  the  twenty-ninth  to  sow  thy  race, 
For  wise  shall  be  the  fruit  of  thy  embrace. 

The  tenth  propitious  lends  its  natal  ray 
To  men,  to  gentle  maids  the  fourteenth  day  : 
Tame,  too,  thy  sheep  on  this  auspicious  morn, 
And  steers  of  flexile  hoof  and  wreathed  horn. 
And  labor-patient  mules  ;   and  mild  command 
Thy  sharp-toothed  dog  with  smoothly-flattering  hand. 

Tne  fourth  and  twenty-fourth  no  grief  should  prey 
Within  thy  breast,  for  holy  either  day. 


Fourth  of  the  moon  lead  home  thy  blooming  bride, 
And  be  the  fittest  auguries  descried. 

Beware  the  fifth,  with  horror  fraught  and  woe  : 
'T  is  said  the  furies  walk  their  round  below. 
Avenging  the  dread  oath  ;  whose  awful  birth 
From  discord  rose,  to  scourge  the  perjured  earth. 

On  the  smooth   threshing-floor,  the   seventeenth 
Observant  throw  the  sheaves  of  sacred  corn  :  [morn. 
For  chamber  furniture  the  timber  hew. 
And  blocks  for  ships  with  shaping  axe  subdue. 

The  fourth  upon  the  stocks  thy  vessel  lay. 
Soon  with  light  keel  to  skim  the  watery  way. 
The  nineteenth  mark  among  the  better  days. 
When  past  the  fervor  of  the  noontide  blaze. 
Harmless  the  ninth  :  't  is  good  to  plant  the  earth, 
And  fortunate  each  male  and  female  birth. 
Few  know  the  twenty-ninth,  nor  heed  the  rules 
To  broach  their  casks,  and  yoke  their  steers  and  mules 
And  fleet-hoofed  steeds  ;  and  on  dark  ocean's  way 
Launch  the  oared  galley  ;  few  will  trust  the  day. 

Pierce  on  the  fourth  thy  cask ;  the  fourteenth  prize 
As  holy  ;  and  when  morning  paints  the  skies. 
The  twenty-fourth  is  best — few  this  have  known  — 
But  worst  of  days  when  noon  has  fainter  grown. 

These  are  the  days  of  which  the  careful  heed 
Each  human  enterprise  will  favoring  speed  : 
Others  there  are,  which  intermediate  fall, 
Marked  with  no  auspice  and  unomencd  all  : 
And  these  will  some,  and  those  will  others  praise, 
But  few  are  versed  in  mysteries  of  days. 
In  this  a  step-mother's  stern  hate  we  prove, 
In  that  the  mildness  of  a  mothei-'s  love. 

0,  fortunate  the  man  !  0,  blest  is  he 
IVlio,  skilled  in  this,  fulfils  his  ministry  : 
He  to  whose  note  the  auguries  are  given. 
No  rite  transgressed,  and  void  ofblame  to  Heaven  ! 


liiral   ([^cs   for   :^'narr() 


BRYANT'S  "MARCH." 

AN    IDYLLIC    ODE. 
The  stormy  March  is  como  at  last, 

With  wind  and  cloud  and  changing  skies 
I  hear  the  rushing  of  the  blast 

That  through  the  snowy  valley  flies. 

Ah,  passing  few  are  they  who  speak, 
Wild,  stormy  month  !  in  praise  of  thee  ; 

Yet,  though  thy  winds  are  loud  and  bleak. 
Thou  art  a  welcome  month  to  me. 

For  thou  to  northern  lands  again 

Tlie  glad  and  glorious  sun  dost  bring. 
And  thou  hast  joined  the  gentle  train 

And  wear'st  the  gentle  name  of  Spring. 
And,  in  thy  reign  of  blast  and  storm, 

Smiles  many  a  long,  bright,  sunny  day, 
MTicn  the  changed  winds  are  soft  and  warn: 

And  heaven  puts  on  the  blue  of  May. 


ing 


And  Mir  lull  -|iiiiij-,  tVum  frost  set  free. 
That,  l..i_'liil>   h., 1.1114  il.iwn  the  hills, 
Aruju-t  srt  i„it  tiimrc-tthesea. 

The  year's  departing  beauty  hides 
Of  wintry  storms  the  sullen  threat ; 

But  in  thy  sternest  frown  abides 
A  look  of  kindly  promise  yet. 

Thou  bring'st  the  hope  of  those  ealra  skies, 
And  that  soft  time  of  sunny  showers. 

When  the  wide  bloom  on  earth  that  lies 
Seems  of  a  brighter  world  than  ours. 


BION'S   "EVENING   STAR." 

AN     IDYLLIC    ODE. 
TRANSLATED    BY   J.    M.    CHAPMAS,    M.A. 

Hesper  !  sweet  Aphrodite's  golden  light ! 
Hesper  !  bright  ornament  of  swarthy  night. 
Inferior  to  the  moon's  clear  sheen,  as  far 
As  thou  outshinest  every  other  star  ; 
Dear  Hesper,  hail  !  and  give  thy  light  to  me. 
Leading  the  festive  shepherd  company. 
For  her  now  course  to-day  began  the  moon. 
And  is  already  set  —  0,  much  too  soon  !  — 
'T  is  not  for  impious  theft  abroad  I  stir, 
Nor  to  waylay  the  nightly  traveller  : 
I  love  ;  and  thou,  bright  stai  of  love  !  shouldst  lend 
The  lover  light  —  his  helper  and  his  friend. 


BURNS'S  "MOUNTAIN  DAISY." 
Wee,  modest  orimson-tipped  flower. 
Thou  'st  met  me  in  an  evil  hour  : 
For  I  maun  crush  amang  tho  stourc 

Thy  slender  stem. 
To  spare  thee  now  is  past  my  power. 

Thou  bonnie  gem. 
Alas  !  't  Is  no  thy  neebor  sweet, 
The  bonnie  lark,  companion  meet  ! 
Bending  thee  'mang  the  dewy  weet 

Wi'  speckled  breast. 
When  upward  springing,  blythe,  to  greet 

The  purpling  ea^t. 
Cauld  blew  the  bitter,  biting  North 
Upon  thy  early,  humble  birth  : 
Yet  cheerfully  thou  glinted  forth 

.\mid  the  storm. 
Scarce  reared  atove  the  parent  earth 

Thy  tender  form. 
The  flaunting  flowers  our  gardens  yield. 
High  sheltering  woods  and  wa's  maun  shield  : 
But  thou,  beneath  the  random  bield 

0'  clod  or  stune. 
Adorns  the  histie  stibble-field. 

Unseen,  alane. 
There  in  thy  scanty  mantle  clad. 
Thy  snawie  bosom  sunward  spread, 
Thou  lifts  thy  unassuming  head 

In  humble  guise  ; 
But  now  the  share  uptcars  thy  bed. 

And  low  thou  lies. 
Such  is  the  fate  of  artless  maid. 
Sweet  floweret  of  the  rural  shade  ! 
By  love's  simplicity  betrayed. 

And  guileless  trust, 
Till  she,  like  thee,  all  soiled,  is  laid 

Low  in  the  dust. 
Such  is  the  fate  of  simple  bard. 
On  life's  rough  ocean  luckless  starred  ! 
Unskilful  he  to  note  the  card 

Of  prudent  lore. 
Till  billows  rage,  and  gales  blow  hard. 

And  whelm  him  o'er. 
Such  fate  to  suffering  worth  is  given. 
Who  long  with  wants  and  woes  has  striven, 
By  human  pride  or  cunning  driven 

To  misery's  brink. 
Till,  wrenched  of  every  stay  but  heaven, 

He  ruined  sink  ! 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  MOSCHUS  —  THEOCRITUS. 


E'en  thou  who  moura'st  the  Daisy's  fate, 
That  fate  is  thine  —  no  distant  date  ; 
Stern  ruin's  ploughshare  drives  elate 

Full  on  thy  bloom, 
Till  crushed  beneath  the  furrow's  weight, 

Shall  be  thy  doom. 

GLOSSARY. 

Wee,  little  ;  maun,  must  j  stoure,  dust  put  in  motion  by 
the  wind  ;  neebor,  neighbor  -,  weet,  wetness  ;  cauki,  cold  ; 
glinted,  peeped  brightly  ;  bield,  shelter  ;  stane,  stone  ;  his- 
tie  Btibble,  dry  stubble  ;  alane,  alone  :  snawie,  snowy. 


MOSCHUS'Si   ''CUPID   A   RUNAWAY." 

AN    IDYL. 

TRANSLATED    BY   J.    M.    CHAPMAN,    M.A. 

Heb  Eros  thus  proclaimed  the  Cyprian  Queen  :  2 
If  any  one  has  in  the  highway  seen 
My  straying  Eros,  and  reports  to  me 
His  whereabouts,  he  shall  rewarded  be  ; 
A  kiss  for  him  ;  but,  if  it  shall  betide 
One  bring  Mm  me,  a  kiss  —  and  more  beside. 
Midst  twenty  ho  is  notable  to  view  : 
Not  fair,  but  flamy  is  his  dazzling  hue  ; 
Sharp  are  his  eyes,  and  flame  their  glanced  fleet ; 
His  mind  is  wicked,  but  his  speech  is  sweet. 
His  word  and  meaning  are  not  like  at  all  ; 
His  word  is  honey,  and  his  meaning  gall. 
He  is  a  mischievous,  deceitful  child  ; 
Beguiles  with  falsehood,  laughs  at  the  beguiled. 
He  has  a  lovely  head  of  curling  hair, 
But  saucy  features,  with  a  reckless  stare. 
His  hands  are  tiny,  but  afar  they  throw. 
E'en  down  to  Dis^  and  Acheron  below. 
Naked  his  form,  his  mind  in  covert  lies  ; 
Winged  as  a  feathered  bird,  he  careless  flies 
From  girls  to  boys,  from  men  to  women  flits, 
Sports  with  their  heartstrings,  on  their  vitals  sits. 
Small  is  his  bow,  his  arrow  small  to  sight, 
But  to  Jove's  court  it  wings  its  ready  flight. 
Upon  his  back  a  golden  quiver  sounds, 
Full  of  sharp  darts,  with  which  e'en  me  he  wounds. 
All  cruel  things  by  cruel  Love  are  done  ; 
His  torch  is  small,  yet  scorches  e'en  the  sun. 
But,  should  you  take  him,  fast  and  safely  bind  him. 
And  bring  him  to  me  with  his  hands  behind  him. 
If  he  should  weep,  take  heed  —  he  weeps  at  will  ; 
But,  should  he  smile  —  then  drag  him  faster  still  ; 
And,  should  he  offer  you  a  kiss,  beware  ! 
Evil  his  kiss,  his  red  lips  poisoned  are ! 

1  Moschus  was  probably  a  pupil  of  Bion.  Some  scholars 
make  tliem  contemporary  with  Theocritus  ;  others  place 
them  a  century  later,  at  about  156  U.  C. 

'  Eros  is  the  Greek  for  Cupid,  god  of  love,  son  of  Venug, 
called  '  Cyprian  queen '  from  Cyprus.    See  note  1,  p.  18. 

a  Pluto,  King  of  Hades,  Hell,  the  Shades,  the  classic 
spirit-world,  of  which  Acheron  was  a  river. 


And  should  he  say,,  with  seeming  friendship  hot, 
"Accept  my  bow  and  arrows,"  touch  them  not ! 
Tears,  smiles,  words,  gifts,  deceitful  wiles  inspire. 
And  everything  he  has  is  dipt  in  fire. 


THEOCRITUS'S   "DISTAFF.' 
A    LYRIC    IDYL. 

TRANSLATED     BV     J.     M.     CHAPMAN, 


This  sweet  ditty  was  written  to  commend  an  ivory  dis- 
taff, which  the  poet,  about  to  sail  to  Miletus,  intended  as  a 
present  for  Theugenis,  the  wife  of  Nicias,  the  physician. 
Undei-  the  semblance  of  teaching  the  distaff  what  sort  of  a 
mistress  it  is  about  to   have,  he  cleverly   and  gracefully 


.  her  husband. 


Distaff  !  quick  implement  of  busy  thrift,    [gift ! 
Which  careful  housewives  ply,  blue-eyed  Athene's  ^ 
We  go  to  rich  Miletus,  where  is  seen 
The  fane  of  Cypris  'mid  the  rushes  green  : 
Praying  to  mighty  Zeus,^  for  voyage  fair, 
Thither  to  Nicias  would  I  now  repair, 
Delighting  and  delighted  by  my  host, 
AVhom  the  sweet-speaking  Graces  love  the  most 
Of  all  their  favorites  ;   thee,  distaff  bright ! 
Of  ivory  wrought,  with  art  most  exquisite, 
A  present  for  his  lovely  wife  I  take. 
With  her  thou  many  various  works  shalt  make  ; 
Garments  for  men,  and  such  as  women  wear. 
Of  silk,  whose  color  is  the  sea-bluo  clear. 
And  she  so  diligent  a  housewife  is, 
That  ever,  for  well-ankled  Theugenis, 
Thrice  in  a  year  are  shorn  the  willing  sheep 
Of  the  fine  fleeces,  which  for  her  they  keep. 
She  loves  what  love  right-minded  women  all  ; 
For  never  should  a  thriftless  prodigal 
Own  thee  with  my  consent ;  'twere  shame  and  pity  ! 
Since  thou  art  of  that  most  renowned  city,3 
Built  by  Corinthian  Archias  erewhile, 
The  marrow  of  the  whole  Sicilian  isle. 
But  in  the  house  of  that  physician  wise. 
Instructed  how  by  wholesome  remedies 
From  human  kind  diseases  to  repel. 
Thou  shalt  in  future  with  lonians  dwell, 
In  beautiful  Miletus  ;  that  the  fame 
For  the  best  distafi"  Theugenis  may  claim, 
And  thou  ma/st  ever  to  her  mind  suggest 
The  memory  of  her  song-loving  guest. 
The  worth  of  offering  from  friend  we  prize. 
Not  in  the  gift  but  in  the  giver  lies. 


1  Minerva,  goddess  of  science,  wisdoi 
ry,  etc.,  inventress  of  the  distaff,  and 

2  Zeus  and  Dios  were  the  Greek,  Jovis  anil  Ju] 
Latin  names  of  the  god  of  the  air,  '  ruler  of  gods  am 

ch    once    had    1,200,000    souls, 
by  Archias,  B.  C.  732,  about  twenty   yea 


ian's  ''^imil  Sports." 


ANGLING,  FOWLING,  AND  HUNTING. 

A   OKOKOIC. 


Yon,  who  tho  sweets  of  rural  life  have  known, 
Despise  th'  ungrateful  hurry  of  the  town  ; 
In  Windsor  groves  your  easy  hours  employ, 
And,  undisturbed,  yourself  and  muse  enjoy  ; 
Thames  listens  to  thy  strains,  and  silent  flows. 
And  no  rude  wind  through  rustling  osier  blows  ; 
While  all  his  wondering  nymphs  around  thoe  throng, 
To  hear  the  sirens  warble  in  thy  song. 
But  I,  who  ne'er  was  blest  by  fortune's  hand. 
Nor  brightened  ploughshares  in  paternal  land. 
Long  in  the  noisy  town  have  been  immured, 
Respired  its  smoke,  and  all  its  cares  endured  ; 
Where  news  and  politics  divide  mankind, 
And  schemes  of  state  involve  the  uneasy  mind  ; 
Faction  embroils  the  world  ;  and  every  tongue 
Is  moved  by  flattery,  or  with  scandal  hung  : 
Friendship,  for  sylvan  shades,  the  palace  flies, 
WTiere  all  must  yield  to  interest's  dearer  ties  ; 
Each  rival  Machiavel  with  envy  burns, 
And  honesty  forsakes  them  all  by  turns  ; 
While  calumny  upon  each  party 's  thrown, 
^\'hich  both  promote,  and  both  alike  disown. 
Fatigued,  at  last,  a  calm  retreat  I  chose. 
And  soothed  my  harassed  mind  with  sweet  repose, 
Where  fields  and  shades,  and  the  refreshing  clime. 
Inspire  the  sylvan  song,  and  prompt  my  rhyme. 


My  muse  shall  rove  through  flowery  meads  and 
plains, 
And  deck  with  Kural  Sports  her  native  strains. 
And  the  same  road  ambitiously  pursue. 
Frequented  by  tho  Mantuan  swain  and  you.* 


'T  is  not  that  Rural  Sports  alone  invite. 
But  all  tho  grateful  country  breathes  delight ; 
Here  blooming  Health  exerts  her  genial  reign, 
And  strings  the  sinews  of  the  industrious  swain. 
Soon  as  the  morning  lark  salutes  the  day. 
Through  dewy  fields  I  take  my  frequent  way. 
Where  I  behold  the  farmer's  early  care 
In  the  revolving  labors  of  the  year. 

1  This  poem  was  originally  inscribed  to  Pope,  in  1713. 


When  the  fresh  Spring  in  all  her  state  is  crowned, 
.\nd  high,  luxuriant  grass  o'erspreads  the  ground. 
The  laborer  with  a  bending  scythe  is  seen, 
Sliaving  the  surface  of  the  waving  green  ; 
ur  all  her  native  pride  disrobes  the  land. 
And  meads  lay  waste  before  his  sweeping  hand  ; 
While  with  the  mounting  sun  the  meadow  glows. 
The  fading  herbage  round  he  loosely  throws  : 
But,  if  some  .«i^ii  portend  a  histing  shuwcr. 

The  e.\perieii 1  .u.nn  t<;---'  ■  ^  i:m  .  "Iiiiii-  hour; 

His  sunburnt  Ii.mmI    iKi       i'     i     _  :   i.-ake. 

And  ruddy  .l;i:ai  N  \'];.  _  :  1 1  ■   ; 

In  rising  hilLs  lU^  l^siai.t  h.unM.  j,i..u.<, 
And  spreads  along  the  lield  in  equal  rows. 


Now  when  the  height  of  heaven  bright  Phoebus 

And  his  steep  *  rays  cleave  wide  the  thirsty  plains  ; 
When  heifers  seek  the  shade  and  cooling  lake, 
And  in  the  middle  pathway  basks  the  snake  ; 
0  lead  me,  guard  me  from  the  sultry  hours. 
Hide  me,  ye  forests,  in  your  closest  bowers, 
Where  the  tall  oak  his  spreading  arms  entwines. 
And  with  the  beech  a  mutual  shade  combines  ; 
Where  flows  the  murmuring  brook,  inviting  dreams, 
Where  bordering  hazel  overhangs  tho  streams, 
WTiose  rolling  current,  winding  round  and  round. 
With  frequent  falls  makes  all  the  wood  resound  ; 
Upon  the  mossy  couch  my  limbs  I  cast, 
And  e'en  at  noon  the  sweets  of  evening  taste. 


vniGIL'3  0 


ORAIS  i  VISES  ; 


Here  I  peruse  the  Mantuan's  Georgic  strains. 
And  learn  the  labors  of  Italian  swains  ; 
In  every  page  I  see  new  landscapes  rise. 
And  all  Ilesporia  opens  to  ray  eyes  ; 
T  wander  o'er  the  various  rural  toil, 
And  know  the  nature  of  each  different  soil : 
This  waving  field  is  gilded  o'er  with  corn, 
That  spreading  trees  with  blushing  fruit  adorn  ; 
Here  I  survey  the  purple  vintage  grow. 
Climb  round  the  poles,  and  rise  in  graceful  row  : 
Now  I  behold  tho  steed  curvet  and  bound, 
And  paw  with  restless  hoof  the  smoking  grr)und  : 
The  dew-lapped  bull  now  chafes  along  the  plain. 
While  burning  love  ferments  in  every  vein  ; 
His  well-armed  front  against  his  rival  aims. 
And  by  the  dint  of  war  his  mistress  claims. 

1  The  original  has  *  level,'  but  without  meaning.  —  J. 


RURAL   POETRY. 


The  careful  insect  midst  his  works  I  view, 
Now  from  the  flowers  exhaust  the  fragrant  dew  ; 
"With  golden  treasures  load  his  little  thighs, 
And  steer  his  distant  journey  through  the  skies  : 
Some  against  hostile  drones  the  hive  defend. 
Others  with  sweets  the  waxen  cell  distend  ; 
Each  in  the  toil  his  destined  office  bears. 
And  in  the  little  bulk  a  mighty  soul  appears. 

BVENINO  IN  THE  CODNTBV. —SILENCE. —SBNSET. 

Or  when  the  ploughman  leaves  the  task  of  day, 
And,  trudging  homeward,  whistles  on  the  way; 
When  the  big-uddered  cows  with  patience  stand. 
Waiting  the  strokings  of  the  damsel's  hand  ; 
No  warbling  cheers  the  woods  ;  the  feathered  choir, 
To  court  kind  slumbers,  to  the  sprays  retire  ; 
■When  no  rude  gale  disturbs  the  sleeping  trees. 
Nor  aspen-leaves  confess  the  gentlest  breeze  ; 
Engaged  in  thought  to  Neptune's  bounds  I  stray. 
To  take  my  farewell  of  the  parting  day. 
Far  in  the  deep  the  sun  his  glory  hides, 
A  streak  of  gold  the  sea  and  sky  divides  : 
The  purple  clouds  their  amber  linings  show. 
And  edged  with  flame  rolls  every  wave  below  : 
Hero  pensive  I  behold  the  fading  light, 
And  o'er  the  distant  billow  lose  my  sight. 


Now  night  in  silent  state  begins  to  rise. 
And  twinkling  orbs  bestrew  the  uncloudy  skies  ; 
Her  borrowed  lustre  growing  Cynthia  lends. 
And  on  the  main  a  glittering  path  extends  : 
Millions  of  worlds  hang  in  the  spacious  air, 
"Which  round  their  suns  their  annual  circles  steer  ; 
Sweet  contemplation  elevates  my  sense, 
While  I  survey  the  works  of  Providence. 
0,  could  the  muse  in  loftier  strains  rehearse 
The  glorious  Author  of  the  universe. 
Who  reins  the  winds,  gives  the  vast  ocean  bounds. 
And  circumscribes  the  floating  worlds  their  rounds  ; 
My  soul  should  overflow  in  songs  of  praise, 
And  my  Creator's  name  inspire  my  lays  ! 


As  in  successive  course  the  seasons  roll. 
So  circling  pleasures  recreate  the  soul. 
When  genial  Spring  a  living  warmth  bestows. 
And  o'er  the  year  her  verdant  mantle  throws. 
No  swelling  inundation  hides  the  grounds. 
But  crystal  currents  glide  within  their  bounds  ; 
The  finny  brood  their  wonted  haunts  forsake. 
Float  in  the  sun,  and  skim  along  the  lake  ; 
With  frequent  leap  they  range  the  shallow  strear 
Their  silver  coats  reflect  the  dazzling  beams. 
Now  let  the  fisherman  his  toils  prepare. 
And  arm  himself  with  every  watery  snare  ; 
His  hooks,  his  lines,  peruse  with  careful  eye. 
Increase  his  tackle,  and  his  rod  retio. 


When  floating  clouds  their  spongy  fleeces  drain. 
Troubling  the  streams  with  swift-descending  rain  ; 
And  waters,  tumbling  down  the  mountain's  side, 
Bear  the  loose  soil  into  the  swelling  tide  ; 
Then  soon  as  vernal  gales  begin  to  rise. 
And  drive  the  liquid  burthen  through  the  skies. 
The  fisher  to  the  neighboring  current  speeds, 
Whose  rapid  surface  purls  unknown  to  weeds  : 
Upon  a  rising  border  of  the  brook 
He  sits  him  down  and  ties  the  treacherous  hook  ; 
Now  expectation  cheers  his  eager  thought, 
His  bosom  glows  with  treasures  yet  unoaught. 
Before  his  eyes  a  banquet  seems  to  stand. 
Where  every  guest  applauds  his  skilful  hand. 

Far  up  the  stream  the  twisted  hair  he  throws, 
Which  down  the  murmuring  current  gently  flows  ; 
When  if,  or  chance  or  hunger's  powerful  sway 
Directs  the  roving  trout  this  fatal  way. 
He  greedily  sucks  in  the  twining  bait, 
And  tugs  and  nibbles  the  fallacious  meat ; 
Now,  happy  fisherman,  now  twitch  the  line  ! 
How  thy  rod  bends  !  behold,  the  prize  is  thine  ! 
Cast  on  the  bank,  he  dies  with  gasping  pains. 
And  trickling  blood  his  silver  mail  distains. 


You  must  not  every  worm  promiscuous  use, 
Judgment  will  tell  the  proper  bait  to  choose  : 
The  worm  that  draws  along  immoderate  size 
The  trout  abhors,  and  the  rank  morsel  flies  ; 
And  if  too  small,  the  naked  fraud 's  in  sight, 
And  fear  forbids,  while  hunger  does  invite. 
Those  baits  will  best  reward  the  fisher's  pains. 
Whose  polished  tails  a  shining  yellow  stains  ; 
Cleanse  them  from  filth  ;  to  give  a  tempting  gloss. 
Cherish  the  sullied  reptile  race  with  moss  ; 
Amid  the  verdant  bed  they  twine,  they  toil. 
And  from  their  bodies  wipe  their  native  soil. 


But  when  the  sun  displays  his  gracious  beams. 
And  shallow  rivers  flow  with  silver  streams. 
Then  the  deceit  the  scaly  breed  survey. 
Bask  in  the  sun  and  look  into  the  day  : 
You  now  a  more  delusive  art  must  try, 
And  tempt  their  hunger  with  the  curious  fly. 


To  frame  the  little  animal,  provide 
All  the  gay  hues  that  wait  on  female  pride  ; 
Let  nature  guide  thee  ;  sometimes  golden  wire 
The  shining  bellies  of  the  fly  require  : 
The  peacock's  plumes  thy  tackle  must  not  fail. 
Nor  the  dear  purchase  of  the  sable's  t.^il. 
Each  gaudy  bird  some  slender  tribute  brings. 
And  lends  the  growing  insect  proper  wings  : 
Silks  of  all  colors  must  their  aid  impart, 
And  every  fur  promote  the  fisher's  art. 


So  the  gay  lady,  with  expensive  care, 
Borrows  the  pride  of  land,  of  sea,  and  air  ; 
Furs,  pearls,  aud  plumes,  the  glittering  thing  displays, 
Dazzles  our  eyes,  and  easy  hearts  betrays. 


Mark  well  tho  rarious  seasons  of  the  year, 
How  the  succeeding  insect  race  appear  ; 
In  this  revolving  moon  one  color  reigns, 
Which  in  the  next  the  fickle  trout  disdains. 

Oft  have  I  so.mi  Ihf  =ki!fn!  niiglor  try 

The  vai-iuus  -  ,,|,.i  -  ,.t  li,,.  tn  lu-heruus  fly, 

AVhen  he  w  iih  inntlr-.  pnn  lijitU  skimmed  the  brook. 

And  tbo  <.-•'%  li-h  ii  i<>[-  ilir  skipping  hook. 


thn 


llo  gentl_v  takus  him  tVuui  thy  uliiiling  tide; 
Examines  well  his  form  with  curious  eyes, 
His  gaudy  vest,  his  wings,  his  horns,  and  size  ; 
Then  round  his  hook  the  chosen  fur  he  winds, 
And  on  the  back  a  speckled  feather  binds  ; 
So  just  the  colors  shine  through  every  part. 
That  nature  seems  again  to  live  in  art. 


Let  not  thy  wary  step  advance  too  near, 
While  all  thy  hope  hangs  on  a  single  hair  ; 
The  new-formed  insect  on  the  water  moves, 
The  speckled  trout  the  curious  snare  approves  ; 
Upon  the  curling  surface  let  it  glide, 
With  natural  motion  from  thy  hand  supplied  ; 
Against  the  stream  now  gently-  let  it  play, 
Now  in  the  rapid  eddy  roll  away. 
The  scaly  shoals  float  by,  and,  seized  with  fear, 
Behold  their  fellows  tost  in  thinner  air  ; 
But  soon  they  leap  and  catch  the  swimming  bait, 
Plunge  on  the  hook,  and  share  an  equal  fate. 


IVben  a  brisk  gale  against  the  current  blows. 
And  all  the  watery  plain  in  wrinkles  flows, 
Then  let  the  fisherman  his  art  repeat, 
"VMiere  bubbling  eddies  favor  tho  deceit. 
If  an  enormous  salmon  chance  to  spy 
The  wanton  errors  of  the  floating  fly, 
He  lifts  his  silver  gills  above  tho  flood. 
And  greedily  sucks  in  the  unfaithful  food  ; 
Then  downward  plunges  with  tho  fraudful  prey. 
And  bears  with  joy  the  little  spoil  away  : 
Soon  in  smart  pain  he  feels  the  dire  mistake, 
Lashes  the  wave,  and  beats  the  foaming  lako  ; 
With  sudden  rage  he  now  aloft  appears, 
And  in  his  eye  con\'ulsive  anguish  bears  ; 
And  now  again,  impatient  of  the  wound. 
He  rolls  and  wreathes  his  shining  body  round  ; 
Then  heatllong  shoots  beneath  tho  dashing  tide. 
The  trembling  fins  the  boiling  wave  divide. 
Now  hope  exalts  tho  fisher's  beating  heart. 
Now  he  turns  palo  and  fears  his  dubious  art ; 


He  views  the  trembling  fish  with  longing  eyes 
While  the  lino  stretches  with  the  unwieldy  prize  ; 
Each  motion  humors  with  his  steady  hands, 
And  one  slight  hair  the  mi-ility  Inilk  cuuuuands  ; 
Till,  tired  at  last,  despnil.,!  ,>r  ;,il  hi.  ^inM-th, 
Tho  game  athwart  tho  ,-tir;, I, I  ini!,.M-  in    icnj^th. 
He  now,  with  pleasure,  ww-  ilir  -i  [.m.'  pri/.o 

Gnash  bis  sharp  teeth,  ami  n-ll   In-  \.\ i-lmti-yci 

Then  draws  him  to  the  >ii"ii\  u  ith  ;ii  mhI  rm-c. 
And  lifts  his  nostrils  in  th-  ^i^kni,,;-  ;iii  ; 
Upon  tho  burdened  stream  In-  llnatiii;,'  Ul^, 
Stretches  his  quivering  limbs,  and  gasping  dies. 


Would  you  preserve  a  numerous  finny  race, 
Let  your  fit- rce  dogs  the  ravenous  otter  chase  ;  — 
The  amphibiuus  monster  ranges  all  the  shores, 
Darts  through  the  waves,  and  every  haunt  explores; — 
Or  let  the  gin  his  roving  steps  betray. 
And  save  from  hostile  jaws  the  scaly  prey. 

I  never  wander  where  the  bordering  reeds 
O*erlook  the  muddy  stream,  whose  tangling  weeds 
Perplex  the  fisher  ;  I  nor  choose  to  bear 
The  thievish  nightly  net,  nor  barbed  spear  ; 
Nor  drain  I  ponds  the  golden  carp  to  take. 
Nor  troll  for  pikes,  dispeoplers  of  the  lake  ; 
Around  the  steel  no  tortured  worm  shall  twine. 
No  blood  of  living  insect  stain  my  line. 
Let  me,  less  crufi,  cast  the  feathered  hook. 
With  pliant  rod,  athwart  the  pebbled  brook  ; 
Silent  along  tho  mazy  margin  stray, 
And  with  the  fur-wrought  fly  delude  the  prey. 

CANTO    II. 

Now,  sporting  muse,  draw  in  the  flowing  reins, 
Leave  the  clear  streams  a  while  for  sunny  plains.         [ 
Should  you  the  various  arms  and  toils  rehearse,  ' 

And  all  the  fishermen  adorn  thy  verso  ; 
Should  you  the  wide-encircling  net  display, 
And  in  its  spacious  arch  enclose  tho  sea  ; 
Then  haul  tho  plunging  load  upon  the  land, 
And  with  the  sole  and  turbot  hide  the  sand  ; 
It  would  extend  the  growing  theme  too  long, 
And  tiro  tho  reader  with  the  watery  song.  i 

LET   THE  SPORTSMAN   5PARB   THE  STASDINO   CROP  J    RBAPISO. 

Let  the  keen  hunter  from  the  chase  refrain,  I 

Nor  render  all  the  ploughman's  labor  vain, 
When  Ceres  pours  out  plenty  from  her  horn. 
And  clothes  tho  fields  with  golden  cars  of  com.  i 

Now,  now,  ye  reapers,  to  your  task  repair  ; 
Haste  !  save  the  product  of  the  bounteous  year  : 
To  the  wide-gathering  hook  long  furrows  yield, 
And  rising  sheaves  extend  through  all  the  field. 


Yet,  if  for  Sylvan  Sports  thy  bosom  glow, 
Let  thy  fleet  greyhound  urge  his  flying  foe. 


KURAL    POETRY. 


With  what  delight  the  rapid  course  I  view  ! 
How  does  my  eye  the  circling  race  pursue  ! 
He  snaps  deceitful  air  with  empty  jaws  ; 
The  subtle  hare  darts  swift  beneath  his  paws  ; 
She  flies,  he  stretches,  now  with  nimble  bound 
Eager  he  presses  on,  but  overshoots  his  ground  ; 
She  turns,  he  winds,  and  soon  regains  the  way, 
Then  tears  with  gory  mouth  the  screaming  prey. 
"What  various  sport  does  rural  life  afford  ! 
"What  unbought  dainties  heap  the  wholesome  board  ! 


FOWLING  ;   THE 

Nor  less  the  spaniel,  skilful  to  betray, 
Rewards  the  fowler  with  the  feathered  prey. 
Soon  as  the  laboring  horse,  with  swelling  veins, 
Hath  safely  housed  the  farmer's  doubtful  gains. 
To  sweet  repast  the  unwary  partridge  flies, 
"With  joy  amid  the  scattered  harvest  lies  ; 
Wandering  in  plenty,  danger  he  forgets. 
Nor  dreads  the  slavery  of  entangling  nets. 
The  subtle  dog  scours  with  sagacious  nose 
Along  the  field,  and  snuffs  each  breeze  that  blows 
Against  the  wind  he  takes  his  prudent  way, 
While  the  strong  gale  directs  him  to  his  prey. 
Now  the  warm  scent  assures  the  covey  near, 
He  treads  with  caution,  and  he  points  with  fear  ; 
Then  —  lest  some  sentry  fowl  the  fraud  descry, 
And  bid  his  fellows  from  the  danger  fly  — 
Close  to  the  ground  in  expectation  lies, 
Till  in  the  snare  the  fluttering  covey  rise. 
Soon  as  the  blushing  light  begins  to  spread. 
And  glancing  Phoebus  gilds  the  mountain's  head, 
His  early  flight  the  ill-fated  partridge  takes, 
And  quits  the  friendly  shelter  of  the  brakes. 
Or  when  the  sun  easts  a  declining  ray. 
And  drives  his  chariot  down  the  western  way, 
Let  your  obsequious  ranger  search  around. 
Where  yellow  stubble  withers  on  the  ground  : 
Nor  will  the  roving  spy  direct  in  vain, 
But  numerous  coveys  gratify  thy  pain. 
When  the  meridian  sun  contracts  the  shade. 
And  frisking  heifers  seek  the  cooling  glade  ; 
Or  when  the  country  floats  with  sudden  rains, 
Or  driving  mists  deface  the  moistened  plains  ; 
In  vain  his  toils  the  unskilful  fowler  trios, 
While  in  thick  woods  the  feeding  partridge  lies. 


Nor  must  the  sporting  verse  the  gun  forbear, 
But  what 's  the  fowler's  be  the  muses'  care. 
See  how  the  well-taught  pointer  leads  the  way  : 
The  scent  grows  warm ;  he  stops ;  he  springs  the  prey ; 
The  fluttering  coveys  from  the  stubble  rise, 
Aud  on  swift  wing  divide  the  sounding  skies  ; 
The  scattering  lead  pursues  the  certain  sight, 
And  death  in  thunder  overtakes  their  flight. 
Cool  breathes  the  morning  air,  and  winter's  hand 
Spreads  wide  her  hoary  mantle  o'er  the  land  ; 


Now  to  the  copse  thy  ksser  spaniel  take, 

Teach  him  to  range  the  ditch,  and  force  the  brake  ; 

Not  closest  coverts  can  protect  the  game  : 

Hark  !  the  dog  opens  ;  take  thy  certain  aim, 

The  woodcock  flutters  ;  how  he  wavering  flies  ! 

The  wood  resounds  ;  he  wheels,  he  drops,  he  dies. 


The  towering  hawk  let  future  poets  sing, 
Wko  terror  bears  upon  his  soaring  wing  : 
Let  them  on  high  the  frighted  hem  sun'cy. 
And  lofty  numbers  paint  their  aiVy  fray. 
Nor  shall  the  mounting  lark  the  muse  detain. 
That  greets  the  morning  with  his  early  strain  ; 
When,  *midst  his  song,  the  twinkling  glass  betrays, 
While  from  each  angle  flash  the  glancing  rays. 
And  in  the  sun  the  transient  colors  blaze, 
Pride  lures  the  little  warbler  from  the  skies  : 
The  light-enamored  bird  deluded  dies. 


But  still  the  chase,  a  pleasant  task,  remains  ; 
The  hound  must  open  in  these  rural  strains. 
Soon  as  Aurora  drives  away  the  night. 
And  edges  eastern  clouds  with  rosy  light, 
The  healthy  huntsman,  with  the  cheerful  horn, 
Summons  the  dogs,  and  greets  the  dappled  morn  ; 
The  jocund  thunder  wakes  the  enlivened  hounds  ; 
They  rouse  from  sleep,  and  answer  sounds  for  sounds; 
Wide  through  the  furzy  field  their  route  they  take. 
Their  bleeding  bosoms  force  the  thorny  brake  ; 
The  flying  game  their  smoking  nostrils  trace, 
No  bounding  hedge  obstructs  their  eager  pace  ; 
The  distant  mountains  echo  from  afar, 
And  hanging  woods  resound  the  flying  war. 
The  tuneful  noise  the  sprightly  courser  hears. 
Paws  the  green  turf,  and  pricks  his  trembling  ears  ; 
The  slackened  rein  now  gives  him  all  his  speed, 
Back  flies  the  rapid  ground  beneath  the  steed  ; 
Hills,  dales,  and  forests,  far  behind  remain,    [train. 
While  the  warm  scent  draws  on  the  deep-mouthed 
AVhere  shall  the  trembling  hare  a  shelter  find  ? 
Hark  !  death  advances  in  each  gust  of  wind  ! 
New  stratagems  and  doubling  wiles  she  tries. 
Now  circling  turns,  and  now  at  large  she  flics  ; 
Till,  spent  at  last,  she  pants,  and  heaves  for  breath, 
Then  lays  her  down,  aud  waits  devouring  death. 


But  stay,  adventurous  muse  !  hast  thou  the  force 
To  wind  the  twisted  horn,  to  guide  the  horse  ? 
To  keep  thy  scat  unmoved,  hast  thou  the  skill, 
O'er  the  high  gate,  and  down  the  headlong  hill  ? 
Canst  thou  the  stag's  laborious  chase  direct, 
Or  the  strong  fox  through  all  his  arts  detect? 
The  theme  demands  a  more  experienced  lay  : 
Ye  mighty  hunters  !  spare  this  weak  essay. 


3i 


0,  happy  plains,  remote  from  war's  alarms, 
And  all  the  ravages  of  hostile  arms  ! 
And  happy  shepherds,  who,  secure  from  fear. 
On  open  downs  preserve  your  fleecy  care  ! 
Whose  spacious  barns  groan  with  increasing  stoi 
And  whirling  flails  disjoint  the  cracking  floor  ! 
No  barbarous  soldier,  bent  on  cruel  spoil. 
Spreads  desolation  o'er  your  fertile  soil  ; 
No  trampling  steed  lays  waste  the  ripened  grain 
Nor  crackling  fires  devour  the  promised  gain  ■ 
No  flaming  beacons  cast  their  blaze  afar, 
The  dreadful  signal  of  invasive  war  : 
No  trumpet's  clangor  wounds  the  mother's  ear, 
And  calls  the  lover  from  his  swooning  fair. 

THE  COrNTRY   GIRL   DESCRIBED  ',   OER   HAPPY   LOT. 

What  happiness  the  rural  maid  attends. 
In  cheerful  labor  while  each  day  she  spends  ! 
She  gratefully  receives  what  Heaven  has  sent, 
And,  rich  in  poverty,  enjoys  content ; 
—  Such  happiness,  and  such  unblemished  fame. 
Ne'er  glad  the  bosom  of  the  courtly  dame  :  — 
She  never  feels  the  spleen's  imagined  pains, 
Nor  melancholy  stagnates  in  her  veins  ; 
She  never  loses  life  in  thoughtless  ease. 


Nor  on  the  velvet  couch  invites  disease  ; 
Her  homespun  dress  in  simple  neatness  lies, 
And  for  no  glaring  equipage  she  sighs  : 
Her  reputation,  which  is  all  her  boast, 
In  a  malicious  visit  ne'er  was  lost  ; 
No  midnight  masquerade  her  beauty  wears, 
And  health,  not  paint,  the  fading  bloom  repairs. 
If  love's  soft  passion  in  her  bosom  reign, 
An  equal  passion  warms  her  happy  swain  ; 
I   No  homebred  jars  her  quiet  state  control, 
Xnr  watchful  jealousy  torments  her  soul  ; 
With  secret  joy  she  sees  her  little  race 
Ilang  on  her  brea^it,  and  her  small  cottage  grace  ; 
The  fleecy  ball  their  busy  fingers  cull, 
Or  from  the  spindle  draw  the  lengthening  wool. 
Thus  flow  her  hours  with  constant  peace  of  mind, 
Till  age  the  latest  thread  of  life  unwind. 

ADIEU   TO   TOR   COUNTRY. 

Ye  happy  fields,  unknown  to  noise  and  strife, 
The  kind  rewardcrs  of  inrlu?trious  life  ; 

Ye  shady  woods,  wl n.  r  T  u  ^  ■]  u>  rove, 

Alike  indulgent  I'    '  ■  I      ■■.■■; 

Ye  murmuring  .-t  I  r,  I  i'  n  :,    unlrrsroll. 

The  sweet  compos.',    ni  t\i-  ^m  n  i  .r  .,,ul  ; 
Farewell  !  —  The  city  calls  mu  frum  your  bowers  : 
Farewell !  amusing  thoughts  and  peaceful  hours. 


fusscr's  ''HIarrlj's   Ijusbiinitni/' 


Worth  r 


t  the  li 


White  pcnson,  both  good  for  the  pot  and  the  purse, 
By  sowing  too  timely,  prove  often  the  worse. 
Because  tliey  be  tender,  and  bateth  the  cold, 
Prove  JIarch  ere  ye  sow,  for  being  too  bold. 
Spare  meadow  at  Gregory,'  marshes  at  Pasque.' 
For  fear  of  dry  summer  no  longer  time  ask. 
Then  hedge  them  and  ditch  them,  bestow  thereon 

Com,  meadow,  and  pasture,  ask  alway  good  fence.** 
In  March,  at  the  farthest,  dry  season  or  wet. 
Hop-roots,  80  well  chosen,  let  skilful  go  set. 
The  goeler<  and  younger,  the  better  I  love  ; 
Well  gutted  and  pared,  the  better  they  prove.  *  * 
In  March  is  good  grafling,  the  skilful  do  know, 
So  long  as  the  wind  in  the  east  do  not  blow  : 

1  These  extracts  arc  frnm  that  rare  old  Farmer's  hook, 
*Tusser*9  Five  llundretl  Points  of  Oood  Ilusbandrv,'  first 
published  in  England,  in  Klizaheth's  reifm,  three  hundred 
years  ago.    The  precepts  were  given  in  rhyme,  so  as  to  be 


From  moon  being  changed,  till  past  be  the  prime. 

For  graffing  and  cropping  is  very  good  time. 

Things  grafted  or  planted,  the  greatest  and  least. 

Defend  against  tempest,  the  bird  and  the  beast ; 

Defended  shall  prosper,  the  tother  is  lost. 

The  thing  with  the  labor,  the  time,  and  the  cost. 

Sow  barley  in  March,  in  April  and  May, 

The  later  in  sand,  and  the  sooner  in  clay. 

AVhat  worser  for  barley  than  wetness  and  cold  ? 

What  better  to  skilful  than  time  to  be  bold? 

\\'ho  soweth  his  barley  too  soon,  or  in  rain, 

Of  oats  and  of  thistles  shall  often  complain.  *  * 

I>ct  barley  bo  harrowed  finely  as  dust. 

Then  workmanly  trench  it  and  fence  it  ye  must. 

This  season  well  plied,  set  sowing  an  end. 

And  praise  and  pray  God  a  good  harvest  to  send.** 

In  March  and  in  April,  from  morning  to  night. 

In  sowing  and  setting  good  housewives  delight : 

To  have  in  a  garden  or  other  like  plot. 

To  trim  up  their  house,  and  to  furnish  their  pot.  •  ' 

Land  falling  or  lying  full  south  or  south-west, 

For  profit  by  tillage,  is  lightly  the  best :  *  » 

At  spring  for  the  Summer  sow  garden  ye  shall  ; 

At  harvest  for  Winter,  or  sow  not  at  all.  *  * 


ustit  lallais  for 


lliu-tl 


'  ROBES  HOOD  AND  GUY  OF  GISBORNE."  • 


■Whan  shaws  been  shecne,  and  shraddes  full  fayre, 

And  leaves  both  large  and  longe, 
Itt's  merrye  walkyng  in  the  fayre  forrest 

To  hear  the  small  birdes  songe/-! 
The  woodweele  sang  and  would  not  cease, 

gifting  upon  the  spray, 
So  loud,  he  wakened  Robin  Hood, 
In  the  greenwood  where  he  lay. 
Now,  by  my  faye,  said  jolly  Robin, 

A  sweaven  I  had  this  night ; 
I  dreamt  me  of  two  mighty  yeomen, 

That  fast  with  me  'gan  tight. 
Methought  they  did  me  beat  and  bind, 

And  took  my  bow  mo  froe  ; 
If  I  be  Robin  alive  in  this  land 
I'll  be  wroken  on  them  towe. 
Sweavens  are  swift,  said  Little  John, 

As  the  wind  blows  over  the  hill  ; 
For  if  it  be  never  so  loud  this  night, 

To-morrow  it  may  be  still. 
Buske  ye,  bowne  ye,  my  merry  men,  all. 

And  John  shall  go  with  me. 
For  I  '11  go  seek  yond  wighty  yeomen, 

In  greenwood  where  they  be.  , 

They  then  cast  on  their  gowns  of  green. 

And  took  their  bows  each  one  ; 
And  they  away  to  the  green  forest 

A  shooting  forth  are  gone  ; 
Until  they  came  to  the  merry  green  wood 

Where  they  had  gladdest  to  be  : 
There  they  were  ware  of  a  wight  yeoman 

That  leaned  against  a  tree. 
A  sword  and  a  dagger  he  wore  by  his  side. 

Of  many  a  man  the  bane  ; 
And  he  was  clad  in  his  capuU  hide 
Top  and  tayll  and  mayne. 


Pil-5 


to  lie  molested,  sparing  pii"r  ii 

with  what  he  got  from  iililKj  s 

'  of  all  theeves  the  prince  and 

2  The  antique  spelling  of 


Stand  still,  master,  quoth  Little  John, 

Under  this  tree  so  green. 
And  I  will  go  to  yond  wight  yeoman 

To  know  what  he  doth  mean. 
Ah  !  John,  by  me  thou  sett'st  no  store, 

And  that  I  farley  find  : 
How  often  send  I  my  men  before, 

And  tarry  myself  behind  ? 
It  is  no  cunning  a  knave  to  ken, 

An  a  man  but  hear  him  speak  ; 
An  it  were  not  for  bursting  of  my  bow, 

John,  I  thy  head  would  break. 
As  often  words  they  breeden  bale. 

So  they  parted  Robin  and  John  ; 

And  John  is  going  to  Barnesdale  : 

The  gates  he  knoweth  each  one. 

But  when  he  came  to  Barnesdale, 

Great  heaviness  there  he  had. 
For  he  found  two  of  his  own  fellowes 

Were  slain  both  in  a  slade. 
And  Scarlette  he  was  flying  afoot 

Fast  over  stock  and  stone. 
For  the  proud  sheriffe  with  seven  score  men 

Fast  after  him  is  gone. 
One  shoote  now,  I  will  shoote,  quoth  John, 

With his  might  and  mayne  ; 

I  '11  make  yond  sheriff  that  wends  so  fast. 

To  stop  he  shall  be  fain. 
Then  John  bent  up  his  long  bend  bow. 

And  settled  him  to  shoot ; 
The  bow  was  made  of  tender  bough. 

And  fell  down  at  his  foot. 
Woe  worth,  woe  worth  thee,  wicked  wood. 

That  ever  thou  grew  on  tree  ; 
For  now  this  day  thou  art  my  bale. 

My  boote  when  thou  should  be. 

His  shoote  it  was  hut  loosely  shot. 

Yet  flew  not  the  arrow  in  vain. 

For  it  met  one  of  the  sheriff's  men. 

And  William  a  Trent  was  slain. 

It  had  been  better  of  AVilliam  a  Trent 

To  have  been  abed  with  sorrow. 
Than  to  be  that  day  iu  the  greenwood  slade, 

To  meet  with  Little  John's  arrow. 
For  as  it  was  said,  when  men  be  met, 

Five  can  do  more  than  three. 

The  sheriff  hath  taken  Little  John 

And  bound  him  fast  to  a  tree. 


SPRING  - 

-  MARCH.                                                                 33 

Thou  Shalt  be  drawn  by  dale  and  down, 

And  hanged  high  on  a  hill. 
But  thou  mayest  fail  of  thy  purpose,  quoth  John, 

If  it  be  Christ  his  will. 

My  dwelling  is  in  this  wood,  says  Robin, 

By  thee  I  set  right  naught  : 
I  am  Robin  Hood  of  Barnesdalo, 

Whom  thou  so  long  has  sought. 

Let  us  leave  talking  of  Little  John, 
And  think  of  Robin  Hood, 

How  ho  is  gone  to  the  wight  yeoman, 
Where  under  the  leaves  ho  stood. 

He  that  had  neither  been  kith  nor  kin 
Might  have  seen  a  full  fayre  sight. 

To  soe  how  together  these  yeomen  went 
With  blades  both  brown  and  bright  : 

Good-morrow,  good  fellow,  said  Robin  so  fair, 
Hood-morrow,  good  fellow,  quo'  he  : 

Mothiuks,  by  this  bow  thou  bears  in  thy  hand, 
A  good  areher  thou  should'st  be. 

To  see  how  these  yeomen  together  they  fought 

Two  hours  of  a  summer's  day  : 
Yet  neither  Robin  Hood  nor  Sir  Guy 

Them  settled  to  fly  away. 

1  am  wilfulle  of  my  way,  quo'  tho  yeoman. 

And  of  my  morning  tyde. 
I  '11  lead  thee  through  the  wood,  said  Robin  : 

Good  fellow,  I  '11  bo  thy  guide. 

Robin  was  reachles  on  a  root, 
And  stumbled  at  that  tyde  ; 

And  Guy  was  quick  and  nimble  withal. 
And  hit  him  upon  the  side. 

I  seek  an  outliwe,  the  stranger  said, 

Men  call  him  Robin  Hood  ; 
Rather  I'd  meet  with  that  proud  outliwo, 

Than  forty  pound  so  good. 

Ah.deere  Ladye,  said  Robin  Hood,  thou 
That  art  both  mother  and  may, 

I  think  it  was  never  man's  destinye 
To  die  before  his  day  ! 

Now  conic  with  me,  thou  wighty  yeoman. 
And  Robin  thou  soon  shalt  sec  : 

But  first  let  us  some  pastime  find 
Under  the  greenwood  tree. 

Robin  thought  on  our  Ladye  deere. 

And  soon  leapt  up  again  ; 
And  straight  he  came  with  a  backward  stroke, 

And  he  Sir  Guy  hath  slayne. 

First  let  us  some  mnsterye  make 

Among  tho  woods  so  even  ; 
We  may  chance  to  meet  with  Kobin  Hood 

Here  at  some  unsett  Steven. 

He  took  .'^ir  Guy's  heiul  by  the  hair. 
And  .<tuck  it  upon  his  bow's  end  : 

Thou  hast  been  a  traitor  all  thy  life, 
Which  thing  must  have  an  end. 

They  cut  them  down  two  summer  shroggs. 
That  grew  both  under  a  breere, 

And  set  them  three-score  rod  in  twain. 
To  shoot  the  prickes  y-fere. 

Robin  pulled  forth  an  Irysh  knife. 
And  nicked  Sir  Guy  in  the  face. 

That  he  was  never  on  woman  born 
Could  know  whose  head  it  was. 

Lead  on,  good  fellow,  quoth  Robin  Hood, 

Lead  on,  I  do  bid  thee. 
Nay,  by  my  faith,  good  fellow,  he  said. 

My  leader  thou  shalt  be. 

Says,  Lie  there,  lie  there,  now.  Sir  Guy, 

And  with  me  be  not  wroth  : 
If  thou  have  had  the  worst  strokes  at  my  hand. 

Thou  shalt  have  the  better  cloth. 

The  first  time  Robin  shot  at  the  pricke. 
He  mist  but  an  inch  it  fro  : 

The  yeoman  he  was  an  archer  good. 
But  he  could  never  do  so. 

Robin  did  off  his  gown  of  green 
And  on  Sir  Guy  did  throw. 

And  he  put  on  that  capuU  hide, 
That  clad  him  top  to  toe. 

Tho  second  shooto  had  the  wighty  yeoman. 

He  shot  within  the  garland  : 
But  Robin  he  shot  far  belter  than  he. 

For  he  clave  tho  good  pricke-wande. 

Thy  bow,  thy  arrows,  and  little  horn, 
Now  with  mo  I  will  bear  ; 

For  I  will  away  to  Barnesdalo, 
To  see  how  my  men  do  faro. 

A  blessing  upon  thy  heart,  he  said  ; 

Good  fellow,  thy  shooting  is  good  ; 
For  an  thy  heart  bo  as  good  as  thy  hand, 

Thou  wert  bettor  than  Robin  Hood. 

Robin  Hood  set  Guy's  horn  to  his  mouth, 
And  a  loud  blajit  in  it  did  blow. 

That  beheard  tho  sheriff  of  Nottingham, 
As  he  leaned  under  a  lowe. 

Now  toll  me  thy  name,  good  fellow,  said  he, 

Under  the  leaves  of  lyne. 
Nay,  by  my  faith,  quoth  bold  Robin, 

Till  thou  have  told  me  thine. 

Hearken,  hearken,  said  the  sheriff, 

I  hear  now  tidings  good. 
For  yonder  I  hear  Sir  Guy's  horn  blow, 

And  he  hath  slain  Robin  Hood. 

I  dwell  by  dale  and  down,  quoth  he. 
And  Robin  to  take  I  'm  sworn  ; 

And  when  I  am  called  by  my  right  name 
I  am  Guy  of  good  Gisborne. 

Yonder  I  hear  Sir  Guy's  horn  blow. 

It  blows  so  well  in  tyde  ; 
And  yonder  comes  that  wightye  yeoman, 

Clad  in  hi^  capull  liyde. 

34 


RURAL    POETRY. 


Come  hither,  come  hither,  thou  good  Sir  Guy  ; 

Ask  what  thou  wilt  of  me. 
0  I  will  none  of  thy  gold,  said  Robin, 

Nor  I  will  none  of  thy  fee  : 

But  now  I  have  slain  the  master,  he  says, 

Let  me  go  strike  the  knave  ; 
For  this  is  all  the  meed  I  ask, 

None  other  reward  I  'U  have. 

Thou  art  a  madman,  said  the  sheriff, 
Thou  shouldst  have  had  a  knight's  fee  : 

But  seeing  thy  asking  has  been  so  bad, 
Well  granted  it  shall  be. 

When  Little  John  heard  his  master  speak, 
Well  knew  he  it  was  his  steven  : 

Now  shall  I  be  looset,  quoth  Little  John, 
With  Christ  his  might  in  heaven. 

Fast  Robin  he  hied  him  to  Little  John, 

He  thought  to  loose  him  blive  ; 
The  sheriff  and  all  his  company 

Fast  after  him  'gan  drive. 

Stand  aback,  stand  aback,  said  Robin, 
Why  draw  you  me  so  near  ? 

One's  shrift  another  should  hear. 

But  Robin  puUed  forth  an  Irish  knife, 

And  loosed  John  hand  and  foot. 
And  gave  him  Sir  Guy's  bow  in  his  band, 

And  bade  it  be  bis  boote. 

Then  John  he  took  Guy's  bow  in  his  hand, 

His  bolts  and  arrows  each  one  ; 
When  the  sheriff  saw  Little  John  bend  his  bow. 

He  settled  him  to  bo  gone. 

Towards  his  house  in  Nottingham  town 

He  fled  full  fast  away  : 
And  so  did  all  the  company  : 

Not  one  behind  would  stay.  *  *  * 


DRAYTON'S   *' ROBIN   IN   SHERWOOD." 

In  this  our  spacious  isle,  I  think  there  is  not  one, 

But  he  hath  heard  some  talk  of  him  and  Little  John ; 

And  to  the  end  of  time  the  tale  shall  ne'er  be  done, 

Of  Scarlock,  George-a-Green,  and  Much  the  Miller's 

Of  Tuck  the  merry  friar,  which  many  a  sermon  made 
In  praise  of  Robin  Hood,  his  outlaws,  and  their  trade. 
An  hundred  valiant  men  had  this  same  Robin  Hood, 
Still  ready  at  his  call,  that  bowmen  were  right  good, 
All  clad  in  Lincoln  green,  with  caps  of  red  and  blue; 
His  fellows'  winded  horn,  not  one  of  them  but  knew. 
When  setting  to  their  lips  their  little  beugles  shrill. 
The  warbling  echoes  waked  from  every  dale  and  hill : 
Their  bauldrichs  set  with  studs,  athwart  their  shoul- 
ders cast,  [fast. 
To  which  under  their  arms  their  sheafs  were  buckled 
A  short  sword  at  their  belt,  a  buckler  scarce  a  span, 
Who  struck  below  the  knee,  not  counted  they  a  man ; 
All  made  of  Spanish  yew,  their  bows  were  wondrous 

strong, 
They  not  an  arrow  shot,  but  was  a-s  a  cloth-yard  long. 

Of  archery  they  had  the  very  perfect  craft ; 
With  broad-arrow,  or  but,  or  prick,  or  roving  shaft, 
At  marks  full  forty  score,  they  used  to  prick  and  rove, 
Yet  higher  than  the  breast  for  compass  never  strove ; 
Yet  at  the  farthest  mark  a  foot  could  hardly  win  : 
At  long-buts,  short  and  hoyles,  each  one  could  cleave 

the  pin  : 
Their  arrows  finely  paired  for  timber  and  for  feather, 
With  birch  and  brazil  pieced,  to  fly  in  any  weather; 
And  shot  they  with  the  round,  the  square  or  forked 
pile,  [mile  ; 

The  loose  gave  such  a  twang,  as  might  be  heard  a 
And  of  these  archers  brave  there  was  not  any  one 
But  he  could  kill  a  deer  his  swiftest  speed  upon  : 
Which  they  did  boil  or  roast  in  many  a  mighty  wood. 
Sharp  hunger  the  fine  sauce  to  their  more  kingly  food. 
Then  taking  them  to  rest,  his  merry  men  and  he 
Slept  many  a  summer's  night  under  the  greenwood 
tree.  [dant  store. 

From  wealthy  abbots'  chests,  and   churls'  abun- 
AVhat  oftentimes  he  took  he  shared  among  the  poor  : 
No  lordly  bishop  came  in  lusty  Robin's  way, 
To  him  before  he  went,  but  for  his  pass  must  pay  : 
The  widow  in  distress  he  graciously  relieved, 
And  remedied  the  wrongs  of  many  a  virgin  grieved: 
\\v  ttniti  the  husband's  bed  no  married  woman  wan, 
l:ut  ('•  his  mistress  dear,  his  loved  Marian, 
Was  ever  constant  known,  who,  wheresoe'er  she  came. 
Was  sovereign  of  the  woods,  chief  lady  of  the  game  : 
Her  clothes  tucked  to  the  knee,  and  dainty  braided 
hair,  [there 

With  bow  and  quiver  armed,  she  wandered  here  and 
Among  the  forests  wild  ;   Diana  never  knew 
Such  pleasures,  nor  such  harts  as  Mariana  slew. 


6o(tisinitIj's   "HcscrtcLi   iUllaiu. 


THE  VILLiOE  OP  AUBniS  IS  ITS  PBOSPERITIT. 

Sweet  Auburn  !  loveliest  village  of  the  plain, 
Where  health  and  plenty  cheered  the  laboring  swain, 
Where  smiling  spring  its  earliest  visit  paid, 
And  parting  summer's  lingering  blooms  delayed. 
Dear  lovely  bowers  of  innocence  and  ease. 
Seats  of  my  youth,  when  every  sport  could  please, 
How  often  have  I  loitered  o'er  thy  green, 
Where  humble  happiness  endeared  each  scene  ! 
I    How  often  have  I  paused  on  every  charm,  — 
The  sheltered  cot,  tho  cultivated  farm, 
The  never-failing  brook,  the  busy  mill. 
The  decent  church  that  topt  the  neighboring  hill. 
The  hawthorn  bush,  with  seats  beneath  the  shade. 
For  talking  ago  and  whispering  lovers  made  ! 

TILLAGE  PASTIMES  J   DASCISO  ;  SPORTIVE  ISXOCESOE. 

How  often  have  I  blest  the  coming  day. 
When  toil  remitting  lent  its  turn  to  play, 
And  all  the  village  train,  from  labor  free. 
Led  up  their  sports  bL-Tirntfi  the  -pre  a.lini;  tree  ; 
While  many  a  pa^tiiii-'  >iii  Ir-1  in  tlir  -li;i<Ie, 

The  young  contenililli;  ;i-  il M  -mwyud  ; 

And  many  a  gambol  li-<i!i'-kril  u'.r  tin-  ground. 
And  sleights  of  art  and  foats  of  strength  went  round. 
And  still  as  each  repeated  pleasure  tired, 
Succeeding  sports  the  mirthful  band  inspired  ; 
The  dancing  pair  that  simply  sought  renown. 
By  holding  out,  to  tire  each  other  down  ; 
The  swain  mistrustless  of  his  smutted  face, 
While  secret  laughter  tittered  round  the  place  ; 
The  bashful  virgin's  sidelong  looks  of  love. 
The  matron's  glance  that  would  those  looks  reprove. 
Those  were  thy  charms,  sweet  village  !  sports  like 

With  sweet  succession,  taught  e'en  toil  to  please  ; 
These  round  thy  bowers  their  cheerful  in8uence  shed. 
These  wore  thy  charms—  but  all  those  charms  are  fled. 

DESOLATING  EFFECTS  OF  LASD-MONOPOLY  OS  THE  VILLAGE. 

Sweet  smiling  village,  loveliest  of  the  lawn, 
Thy  sports  are  fled,  and  all  thy  charms  withdrawn  ; 
Amidst  thy  bowers  the  tyrant's  hand  is  seen. 
And  desolation  saddens  all  thy  green  : 
One  only  master  grasps  the  whole  domain, 
And  half  a  tillage  stints  thy  smiling  plain. 
No  more  thy  glassy  brook  reflects  the  day. 
But,  choked  with  sedges,  works  its  weedy  way  ; 
Along  thy  glades,  a  solitary  guest, 
Tho  hollow-sounding  bittern  guards  its  nest ; 
Amidst  thy  desert  walks  the  lapwing  flies. 
And  tires  their  echoes  with  unvaried  cries. 
Sunk  arc  thy  bowers  in  shapeless  ruin  all, 


And  tho  long  grass  o'ertop?  tho  mouldering  wall  ; 
And,  trembling,  shrinking  from  the  spoiler's  band. 
Far,  far  away,  thy  children  leave  the  land. 


REEHOLDS  COMMENDED  :  CHASQES  THROCGU  J 


111  fares  the  land,  to  hastening  ills  a  prey, 
Where  wealth  accumulates,  and  men  decay  ; 
Princes  and  lords  may  flourish,  or  may  fade  ; 
A  breath  can  make  them,  as  a  breath  has  made  : 
But  a  bold  peasantry,  their  country's  pride, 
When  once  destroyed  can  never  be  supplied. 

A  time  there  was,  ere  England's  griefs  began, 
When  every  rood  of  ground  maintained  its  man  ; 
For  him  light  labor  spread  her  wholesome  store. 
Just  gave  what  life  required,  but  gave  no  more  ; 
His  best  companions,  innocence  and  health  ; 
And  his  best  riches,  ignorance  of  wealth. 

But  times  are  altered  ;  trade's  unfeeling  train 
Usurp  the  land  and  dispossess  the  swain  ; 
Along  the  lawn,  where  scattered  hamlets  rose. 
Unwieldy  wealth  and  cumbrous  pomp  repose  ; 
And  every  want  to  luxury  allied. 
And  every  pang  that  folly  pays  to  pride. 
These  gentle  hours  that  plenty  bade  to  bloom. 
Those  calm  desires  that  asked  but  little  room. 
Those  healthful  sports  that  graced  the  peaceful  scene, 
Lived  in  each  look,  and  brightened  all  the  greon  ; 
These,  far  departing,  seek  a  kinder  shore. 
And  rural  mirth  and  manners  are  no  more. 

RF.MISISCEXCE.S   AND    DISAPPOINTMENT. 

Sweet  Auburn  !  parent  of  the  blissful  hour, 
Thy  glades  forlorn  confess  the  tyrant's  power. 
Here,  as  I  take  my  solitaryrounds, 
Amidst  thy  tangling  walks,  and  ruined  grounds, 
And,  many  a  year  elapsed,  return  to  view 
Where  once  the  cottage  stood,  the  hawthorn  grew, 
Remembrance  wakes  with  all  her  busy  train, 
Swells  at  my  breast,  and  turns  the  past  to  pain. 

In  all  my  wanderings  round  this  world  of  care, 
In  all  my  griefs  —  and  God  has  given  ray  share  — 
I  still  had  hopes  my  latest  hours  to  crown. 
Amidst  these  humble  bowers  to  lay  me  down  ; 
To  husband  out  life's  ta,per  at  the  close. 
And  keep  the  flame  from  wasting  by  repose  : 
I  still  had  hopes,  for  pride  attends  us  still, 
Amidst  the  swains  to  show  my  book-learned  skill. 
Around  my  fire  an  evening  group  to  draw, 
And  tell  of  all  I  felt,  and  all  1  saw  ; 
And,  as  a  hare  whom  hounds  and  horns  pursue 
Pants  to  the  place  from  whence  at  first  she  flow, 
I  still  had  hopes,  my  long  vexations  past. 
Here  to  return  —  and  die  at  home  at  lo^t. 


RURAL  POETRY.  —  GOLDSMITH. 


0  blest  retirement,  friend  to  life's  decline, 
Retreats  from  care  that  never  must  be  mine, 
How  blest  is  he  who  crowns  in  shades  like  these 
A  youth  of  labor  with  an  age  of  ease  ; 
Who  quits  a  world  where  strong  temptations  try, 
And,  since  'tis  hard  to  combat,  learns  to  fly  ! 
For  him  no  wretches,  born  to  work  and  weep, 
Explore  the  mine,  or  tempt  the  dangerous  deep  ; 
No  Burly  porter  stands  in  guilty  state, 
To  spurn  imploring  famine  from  the  gate  ; 
But  on  he  moves  to  meet  his  latter  end, 
Angels  around  befriending  virtue's  friend  ; 
Sinks  to  the  grave  with  unperceived  decay, 
While  resignation  gently  slopes  the  way  ; 
And,  all  his  prospects  brightening  to  the  last, 
His  heaven  commences  ere  the  world  be  past ! 


Sweet  was  the  sound  when  oft  at  evening's  close 
Up  yonder  hill  the  village  murmur  rose  ; 
There,  as  I  past  with  careless  steps  and  slow, 
The  mingling  notes  came  softened  from  below  : 
The  swain  responsive  as  the  milU-maid  fiiingj 
The  sober  herd  that  lowed  to  meet  their  yuung  ; 
The  noisy  geese  that  gabbled  o'er  the  p<Ktl, 
The  playful  children  just  let  loose  from  school  ; 
The  watch-dog's  voice  that  bay'd  the  whispVing  wind, 
And  the  loud  laugh  that  spoke  the  vacant  mind  ; 
These  all  in  sweet  confusion  sought  the  shade, 
And  filled  each  pause  the  nightingale  had  made. 


But  now  the  sounds  of  population  fail, 

No  cheerful  murmurs  fluctuate  in  the  gale, 

No  busy  steps  the  grass-grown  foot-way  tread, 

But  all  the  blooming  flush  of  life  is  fled. 

All  but  yon  widowed,  solitary  thing, 

That  feebly  bends  beside  the  plashy  spring  ; 

She,  wretched  matron,  forced,  in  age,  for  bread, 

To  strip  the  brook  with  mantling  cresses  spread, 

To  pick  her  wintry  fagot  from  the  thorn. 

To  seek  her  nightly  shed,  and  weep  till  morn  ; 

She  only  left  of  all  the  hannless  train, 

The  sad  historian  of  the  pensive  plain. 


Near  yonder  copse,  where  once  the  garden  smiled, 
And  still  where  many  a  garden  flower  grows  wild  ; 
There,  where  a  few  torn  shrubs  the  placL-  disclose. 
The  vilhige  preacher's  modest  mansion  ruse. 
A  man  he  was  to  all  the  country  dear. 
And  passing  rich  with  forty  pounds  a  year  ; 
Remote  from  towns  he  ran  his  godly  race. 
Nor  e'er  had  changed  nor  wished  to  change  his  place ; 

By.I...  .  :     .  Kvinghour; 

Murr  In-n,  ,.,,:,,-..  iln.up.t  ■!,..!  than  to  rise.   ' 
His  house  was  known  to  all  the  vagrant  train. 
He  chid  their  wanderings,  but  relieved  their  pain. 
The  long-remembered  beggar  was  his  guest, 


■\VTiose  beard  descending  swept  his  aged  breast ; 
The  ruined  spendthrift,  now  no  longer  proud. 
Claimed  kindred  there,  and  had  his  claims  allowed; 
The  broken  soldier,  kindly  bade  to  stay, 
Sate  by  his  fire,  and  talked  the  night  away  ; 
Wept  o'er  his  wounds,  or,  tales  of  sorrow  -done,  [won. 
Shouldered  his  crutch,  and  showed  how  fields  were 
Pleased  with  his  guests,  the  good  man  learned  to 
And  quite  forgot  their  vices  in  their  woe  ;       [glow, 
Careless  their  merits  or  their  faults  to  scan. 
His  pity  gave  ere  charity  began. 

THE  CLERGYMAN    WITH  THli   POOR,  SICK,  AND   DYING 

Thus  to  relieve  the  wretched  was  his  pride. 
And  even  his  failings  leaned  to  virtue's  side  ; 
But  in  his  duty  prompt  at  every  call. 
He  watched  and  wept,  he  prayed  and  felt,  for  all. 
And,  as  a  bird  each  fond  endearment  tries, 
To  tempt  its  new-fledged  offspring  to  the  skies  ; 
He  tried  each  art.  reproved  each  dull  delay. 
Allured  t-.  briLr!ir<r  w.^iMs,  :ind  led  the  way. 

Beside  tlir  l^ci  uli.-re  ]i;iiting  life  was  laid. 
And  sorrow,  -uilt.  ariii  pain,  by  turns  dismayed, 
The  reverend  champion  stood.     At  his  control. 
Despair  and  anguish  fled  the  struggling  soul  ; 
Comfort  came  down  the  trembling  wretch  to  raise, 
And  his  last  faltering  accents  whispered  praise. 


At  church,  with  meek  and  unaffected  grace. 
His  looks  adorned  the  venerable  place  ; 
Truth  from  liis  l\].<  prevail,  d  with  double  sway, 
And  fools.  uliM  -aiiir  tn  <,-i,\\\  remained  to  pray. 

1 1 : 1 J  e  the  good  man's  smile. 
His  ready  -uiil.   a  i  :,,.,,!-  uarmth  exprest, 
Their  welfare  pleased  him,  and  their  cares  distrest ; 
To  them  his  heart,  his  love,  his  griefs,  were  given, 
But  all  his  serious  thoughts  had  rest  in  heaven. 
As  some  tall  cliff  that  lifts  its  awful  form. 
Swells  from  the  vale,  and  midway  leaves  the  storm. 
Though  round  its  breast  the  rolling  clouds  are  spread, 
Eternal  sunshine  settles  on  its  head. 


Beside  yon  straggling  fence  that  skirts  the  way 
With  blossomed  furze,  unprofitably  gay. 
There,  in  his  noisy  nian>ion.  skilled  to  rule. 
The  village  master  taui'-lit  hi.-  liitlr  srlmol. 
A  man  severe  he  w;i,-,  ;iiid  -inn  t..  \  i-u. — 
I  knew  him  well,  and  every  truanL  knew  ; 
Well  had  the  boding  tremblers  learned  to  trace 
The  day's  disasters  in  his  morning  face  ; 
Full  well  they  laughed  with  counterfeited  glee 
At  all  his  jokes,  for  many  a  joke  had  he  ; 
Full  well  the  busy  whisper,  circling  round, 
Conveyed  the  dismal  tidings  when  he  frowned  ; 
Yet  he  was  kind,  or  if  severe  in  aught, 
The  love  ho  bore  to  learning  was  in  fault  ; 
The  village  all  declared  how  much  he  knew  ; 
'T  was  certain  he  could  write,  and  cipher  too  ; 


SPRINa  —  MARCH. 


37 


could  measure,  terms  and  tides  presage> 
the  story  ran  that  he  could  gauge  ; 
ng,  too,  the  parson  owned  his  skill, 
though  vanquished,  he  could  argue  still  ; 
)rds  of  learned  length  and  thundering  souu 
the  gazing  rustics  ranged  around  ; 
they  gazed,  and  still  the  wonder  grew 
small  head  could  carry  all  he  knew. 
is  all  his  fame.     The  very  spot 
any  a  time  ho  triumphed  is  forgot. 


Lands  ho 
And  oven 
In  arguinj 
For  ovoE 
AVhile  VT> 
Amazed 
And  still 
That  one 
Cut  past 
Where  m; 


Near  yonder  thorn,  that  lifts  its  head  on  high, 
Where  once  the  sign-post  caught  the  passing  eye, 
Low  lies  that  house  where  nut-brown  draughts  ii 

Whore  gray  board  mirth  and  smiling  toil  retired, 
Where  village  statesmen  talked  with  looks  profoun( 
And  news  much  older  than  their  ale  went  round. 
Imagination  fondly  stoops  to  trace 
The  parlor  splendors  of  that  festive  place  ; 
The  white-washed  wall,  the  nicely  sanded  floor. 
The  varnished  clock  that  clicked  behind  the  door  ; 
The  chest  contrived  a  double  debt  to  pay, 
A  bed  by  night,  a  chest  of  drawers  by  day  ; 
The  pictures  placed  for  ornament  and  use, 
The  twelve  good  rules,  the  royal  game  of  goose  ; 
The  hearth,  except  when  winter  chilled  the  day. 
With  aspen  boughs,  and  flowers  and  fennel  gay. 
While  broken  tea-cups,  wisely  kept  for  show, 
Banged  o'er  the  chimney,  glistened  in  a  row. 

Vain  transitory  splendors  !  couhl  not  all 
Reprieve  the  tottering  mansion  from  its  fall ! 
Obscure  it  sinks,  nor  shall  it  more  impart 
An  hour's  importance  to  the  poor  man's  heart ; 
Thither  no  more  the  peasant  shall  repair,  , 

To  sweet  oblivion  of  his  daily  care  ; 
No  more  the  farmer's  news,  the  barber's  tale, 
No  more  the  woodman's  ballad  shall  prevail  ; 
No  more  the  smith  his  dusky  brow  shall  clear, 
Relax  his  pnn-irrnu-  •tiTni:t!i.  ami  Icni  tu  hear  ; 
The  host  liini->'ll  n-  1m,,^>  v  -li.ill  !„•  |.,inHl, 
Careful  to  ^<t  iIh'  in,H,ilu,4  l-li-^  -..  i-,aiiKl  ; 
Nor  the  coy  m:iid,  h:ilt'  uillitif;  tu  be  prt-st, 
Shall  kiss  the  cup  to  puss  it  to  the  rest. 

CHARMS   OP  SIMPUCITT   AND   SATCRB. 

Yes  !  let  the  rich  deride,  the  proud  disdain, 
These  simple  blessings  of  the  lowly  train, 
To  me  more  dear,  congenial  to  my  heart. 
One  native  charm,  than  all  the  gloss  of  art. 
Spontaneous  joys,  where  Nature  has  its  play. 
The  soul  adopts,  and  owns  their  first-born  sway  ; 
Lightly  thoy  frolic  o'er  the  vacant  mind, 
riun\  i'll.  iinmnlc-tvd,  unconfined. 
lint  Til.'  In[iu'  i'"in|..  the  midnight  masquera<lc, 
\Vitii  ;ill  tlir  fir;ik-;  i.f  wautoH  wcalth  array cd, 
111  t'l'  —  '.  <:t>-  trifl.rs  half  their  wish  obtain, 
The  toiling  pleasure  sickens  into  pain  ; 
And,  e'en  while  fashion's  brightest  arts  decoy, 
The  heart  distrusting  asks  if  this  be  joy  ! 


Ye  friends  to  truth,  ye  statesmen  who  survey 
The  rich  man's  joys  increase,  the  poor's  dcoay, 
'T  is  yours  to  judge  how  wide  the  limits  stand 
Between  a  splendid  and  a  happy  land. 
Proud  swells  the  tide  with  loads  of  freighted  ore, 
And  shouting  Folly  hails  them  from  her  shore  ; 
Hoards  even  beyond  the  miser's  wish  abound. 
And  rich  men  flock  from  all  the  world  around. 
Yet  count  our  gains.     This  wealth  is  but  a  name, 
Tliat  leaves  our  useful  products  still  the  same. 
Not  so  tho  loss.     The  man  of  wealth  and  pride 
Takes  up  a  space  that  many  poor  supplied  ; 
Space  for  his  lake,  his  park's  extended  bounds, 
Space  for  his  horses,  equipage,  and  hounds  ; 
The  robe  that  wraps  his  limbs  in  silken  sloth 
Ha<l   robbed   the   neighboring   fields  of  half  their 
llis  seat,  where  solitary  sports  are  seen,       [growth. 
Indignant  spurns  the  cottage  from  the  green  ; 
Around  the  world  each  needful  product  flies, 
For  all  the  luxuries  the  world  supplies. 
AVhile  thus  the  land,  adorned  for  pleasure  all. 
In  barren  splendor  feebly  waits  the  fall. 


As  some  fair  female,  unadorned  and  plain. 
Secure  to  please  while  youth  confirms  her  reign. 
Slights  every  borrowed  charm  that  dress  supplies. 
Nor  shares  with  art  the  triumph  of  her  eyes  ; 
But  when  those  charms  are  past,  for  charms  are  frail. 
When  time  advances,  and  when  lovers  fail. 
She  then  shines  forth,  solicitous  to  bless, 
In  all  the  glaring  impotence  of  dress. 
Thus  fares  the  land,  by  luxury  betrayed, 
In  nature's  simplest  charms  at  first  arrayed, 
But  vcr^iui;  to  declitiu.  its  splendors  rise, 
Itsvi.-ta-  -Ink-,  It-  i.:l1.mh'.s  surprise  ; 
AVhil''.         M      i  I      :  iKiM'-  from  the  smiling  land, 
The  iii'^in  ,,:,;,  j,    I    I :,;  I.  ;hU  his  humble  band  ; 

The  country  blooms  —  a  garden,  and  a  grave. 

THK   POOR   IIERDRP   IN   CITIES  5    EVILS  }    CITY  CONTRASTS. 

Where,  then,  ah  !  where  shall  poverty  reside, 
To  'scape  the  pressure  of  contiguous  pride  ? 
If,  to  some  common's  fenceless  limits  strayed, 
He  drives  his  flocks  to  pick  the  scanty  blade, 
Thi>si'  Irnci."  li.i.N  ihc  sons  of  wealth  divide, 
Antl  f\iM  tii.   li:iM  -u"i  II  CMinmon  is  denied. 


If  tntl,,.    ,■,!> 

To  see  protu.i^ 
To  see  ten  then 
To  pamper  lux 


,  the 


T0£ 


Ext*)rtcd  from  h 
Here,  while  the 
There  tho  pale  a 


ier  glitters  in  brocade, 
plies  the  sickly  trade  ;    [play. 
Here,  while  the  proud  their  long-drawn  pomps  dis- 
There  the  black  gibbet  glooms  beside  the  way. 
Tho  dome  where  Pleasure  holds  her  midnight  reign, 
Here,  richly  decked,  admits  the  gorgeous  train  ; 


RURAL    POETRY. GOLDSMITH. 


Tumultuous  grandeur  crowds  the  blazing  square, 
The  rattling  chariots  clash,  the  torches  glare. 
Sure  scenes  like  these  no  troubles  e'er  annoy  ! 
Sure  these  denote  one  universal  joy  ! 


Are  these  thy  serious  thoughts?  — Ah,  turn  thine 
Where  the  poor,  houseless,  shirring  female  lies,  [eyes 
She  once,  perhaps,  in  village  plenty  blest, 
Has  wept  at  tales  of  innocence  distrest  ; 
Her  modest  looks  the  cottage  might  adorn. 
Sweet  as  the  primrose  peeps  beneath  the  thorn  ; 
Now  lost  to  all  — her  friends,  her  virtue  fled, 
Near  her  betrayer's  door  she  lays  her  head,  [shower. 
And,  pinched  with   cold,  and  shrinking   from  the 
With  heavy  heart  deplores  that  luckless  hour, 
When  idly  first,  ambitious  of  the  town. 
She  left  her  wheel  and  robes  of  country  brown. 


Do  thine,  sweet  Auburn,  thine  the  loveliest  train. 
Do  thy  fair  tribes  participate  her  pain  ? 
Even  now,  perhaps,  by  cold  and  hunger  led, 
At  proud  men's  doors  they  ask  a  little  bread  ! 

Ah,  no  !     To  distant  climes,  a  dreary  scene. 
Where  half  the  convex  world  intrudes  between, 
Through  torrid  tracts  with  fainting  steps  they  go, 
Where  wild  Altama  murmurs  to  their  woe. 
Far  different  there  from  all  that  charmed  before, 
The  various  terrors  of  that  horrid  shore  ; 
Those  blazing  suns,  that  dart  a  downward  ray. 
And  fiercely  shed  intolerable  day  ; 
Those  matted  woods  where  birds  forget  to  sing, 
And  silent  bats  in  drowsy  clusters  cling  ; 
Those  poisonous  fields  with  rank  luxuriance  crowned. 
Where  the  dark  scorpion  gathers  death  around  ; 
Where  at  each  step  the  stranger  fears  to  wake 
The  rattling  terrors  of  the  vengeful  snake  ; 
Where  crouching  tigers  wait  their  hapless  prey. 
And  savage  men  more  murderous  still  than  they  ; 
While  oft  in  whirls  the  mad  tornado  flies. 
Mingling  the  ravaged  landscape  with  the  skies. 
Far  diff'erent  these  from  every  former  scene. 
The  cooling  brook,  the  grassy-vested  green. 
The  breezy  covert  of  the  warbling  grove. 
That  only  sheltered  thefts  of  harmless  love. 


!  gloomed  that  parting 


Good  heaven  !  what ! 
day. 

That  called  them  from  their  native  walks  away  ; 
When  the  poor  exiles,  every  pleasure  past, 
Hung  round  the  bowers,  and  fondly  looked  their  last. 
And  took  a  long  farewell,  ajid  wished  in  vain 
For  seats  like  these  beyond  the  western  main  ; 
And,  shuddering  still  to  face  the  distant  deep. 
Returned  and  wopt,  and  still  returned  to  weep. 
The  good  old  sire  the  first  prepared  to  go 
To  new-found  worlds,  and  wept  for  other's  woe  ; 
But  for  himself,  in  conscious  virtue  brave, 
He  only  wished  for  worlds  beyond  the  grave. 


His  lovely  daughter,  lovelier  in  her  tears, 

The  fond  companion  of  his  helpless  years, 

Silent  went  next,  neglectful  of  her  charms. 

And  left  a  lover's  for  a  father's  arms. 

With  louder  plaints  the  mother  spoke  her  woes. 

And  blest  the  cot  where  every  pleasure  rose  ; 

And  kissed  her  thoughtless  babes  with  many  a  tear. 

And  clasped  them  close,  in  sorrow  doubly  dear  ; 

Whilst  her  fond  husband  strove  to  lend  relief 

In  all  the  silent  manliness  of  grief. 

LUXCBV   DESOrSCED  J  THE  RCI.V   OP   NATIOSS. 

0,  luxury  !  thou  cursed  by  heaven's  decree. 
How  ill  exchanged  are  things  like  these  for  thee  ! 
How  do  thy  potions,  with  insidious  joy. 
Diffuse  their  pleasures  only  to  destroy  ! 
Kingdoms  by  thee,  to  sickly  greatness  grown. 
Boast  of  a  fiorid  vigor  not  their  own  : 
At  every  draught  more  large  and  large  they  grow, 
A  bloated  mass  of  rank  unwieldy  woe  ; 
Till  sapped  their  strength,  and  every  part  unsound, 
Down,  down  they  sink,  and  spread  a  ruin  round. 

REFLECTIO.VS  OS  EMIfTRATIOX.  —  THE  RrHiL  VIBTCES  EXILED. 

Even  now  the  devastation  is  begun. 
And  half  the  business  of  destruction  done  ; 
Even  now,  methinks,  as  pondering  here  I  stand, 
I  see  the  rural  virtues  leave  the  land. 
Down  where  yon  anchoring  vessel  spreads  the  sail. 
That  idly  waiting  flaps  with  every  gale. 
Downward  they  move,  a  melancholy  band, 
Pass  from  the  shore,  and  darken  all  the  strand. 
Contented  toil,  and  hospitable  care. 
And  kind  connubial  tenderness  are  there  ; 
And  piety  with  wishes  placed  above. 
And  steady  loyalty,  and  faithful  love. 


And  thou,  sweet  Poetry,  thou  loveliest  maid  ! 
Still  first  to  fly  where  sensual  joys  invade  ; 
Unfit,  in  these  degenerate  times  of  shame. 
To  catch  the  heart,  or  strike  for  honest  fame  ; 
Dear  charming  nymph,  neglected  and  decried. 
My  shame  in  crowds,  my  solitary  pride. 
Thou  source  of  all  my  bliss,  and  all  my  woe. 
Thou  found'st  me  poor  at  first,  and  keep'st  me  so  : 
Thou  guide,  by  which  the  nobler  arts  excel, 
Thou  nurse  of  every  virtue,  fare  thee  well  ! 
Farewell !  and,  0  !  where'er  thy  voice  he  tried. 
On  Torno's  cliffs,  or  Pambamarca's  side, 
Whether  where  equinoctial  fervors  glow. 
Or  winter  wraps  the  polar  world  in  snow, 
Still  let  thy  voice,  prevailing  over  time. 
Redress  the  rigors  of  the  inclement  clime  : 
Aid  slighted  truth  with  thy  persuasive  strain. 
Teach  erring  man  to  spurn  the  rage  of  gain  ; 
Teach  him  that  states,  of  native  strength  possest, 
Though  very  poor,  may  still  bo  very  blest ; 
That  trade's  proud  empire  hastes  to  swift  decay. 
As  ocean  sweeps  the  labored  mole  away  ; 
While  self-dependent  power  can  time  defy, 
As  rocks  resist  the  billows  and  the  sky. 


'plural  §uu\s  of  |lraisr  for  ^Uarrl). 


BRYANT'S  "  FOREST  HYMN." 

The  grovo3  were  God's  first  templos.     Ere  man 
To  how  the  shaft,  and  lay  the  architrave,     [learned 
And  spread  the  roof  above  them,  —  ere  he  framed 
The  lofty  vault,  to  gather  and  roll  back 
The  sound  of  anthems  ;  —  in  the  darkling  wood. 
Amidst  the  oool  and  silence,  he  knelt  down 
And  offered  to  the  Mightiest  solemn  thanks 
And  supplication.     For  his  simple  heart 
Might  not  resist  the  sacred  influences, 
That,  from  the  stilly  twilight  of  the  place. 
And  from  the  gray  old  trunks  that  high  in  heaven 
Mingled  their  mossy  boughs,  and  from  the  sound 
Of  the  invisible  breath  that  swayed  at  once 
All  their  green  tops,  stole  over  him,  and  bowed 
His  spirit  with  the  thought  of  boundless  power 
And  inaccessible  majesty.     Ah,  why 
Should  we,  in  the  world's  riper  years,  neglect 
(jod's  ancient  sanctuaries,  and  adore 
Only  among  the  crowd,  and  under  roofs 
That  our  frail  hands  have  raised  ?    Let  mo,  at  least. 
Hero,  in  the  shadow  of  this  aged  wood. 
Offer  one  hymn  —  thrice  happy,  if  it  find 
Acceptance  in  his  ear. 

Father,  thy  hand 
Ilath  reared  these  venerable  columns.  Thou 
Didst  weave  this  verdant  roof.  Thou  didst  look  down 
Upon  the  naked  earth,  and,  forthwith,  rose 
All  these  fair  ranks  of  trees.     They  in  thy  sun 
Budded,  and  shook  their  green  leaves  in  thy  breeze, 
And  shot  towards  heaven.   The  century-living  crow, 
Whose  birth  was  in  their  tops,  grew  old  and  died 
Among  their  branches,  till,  at  last,  they  stood. 
As  now  they  stand,  massy  and  tall  and  dark  ; 
Fit  shrine  for  humble  worshipper  to  hold 
Communion  with  his  Maker.     Here  are  seen 
No  traces  of  man's  pomp  or  pride  ;  — no  silks 
Rustle,  no  jewels  shine,  nor  envious  eyes 
Encounter  ;  no  fantastic  carvings  show 
The  boast  of  our  vain  race  to  change  the  form 
Of  thy  fair  works.    But  Thou  art  here  — Thou  fiU'st 
The  solitude.     Thou  art  in  the  soft  winds 
That  run  along  the  summits  of  these  trees 
In  music  ;  —  Thou  art  in  the  cooler  breath. 
That,  from  the  inmost  darkness  of  the  place. 
Comes,  scarcely  felt ;  —  the  barky  trunks,  the  ground. 
The  fresh  moist  ground,  are  all  instinct  with  Thee. 
Here  is  continual  worship  ;  — nature,  hero. 
In  the  tranquillity  that  Thou  dost  love. 
Enjoys  thy  presence.     Noiselessly,  around. 
From  perch  to  perch,  the  solitary  bird 
Passes  ;  and  yon  clear  spring,  that,  'midst  its  herbs. 


Wells  softly  forth,  and  visits  the  strong  roots 

Of  half  the  mighty  forest,  tells  no  tale 

Of  all  the  good  it  does.     Thou  hast  not  left 

Thyself  without  a  witness,  in  these  shades. 

Of  thy  perfections.     Grandeur,  strength,  and  grace, 

Are  here  to  speak  of  Thee.     This  mighty  oak  — 

By  whose  immovable  stem  I  stand  and  seem 

Almost  untiiliilatfd  —  not  a  prince. 

In  all  till   |.[    111  mM  w. .rid  beyond  the  deep, 

E'n  «    M    III      I    ■> loftily  as  he 

Wi.i;    !i  I  iiiijil  of  leaves  with  which 

Thy  liiMil  111    .:i.ii    .1  him.     Nestled  at  his  root 
Is  btauty,  such  as  blooms  not  in  the  glare 
Of  the  broad  sun.     That  delicate  forest-flower, 
With  scented  breath,  and  Innk  sn  like  a  smile. 
Seems,  as  it  issues  fritm  t!i.   ~!i  ii-  1.    -  Mi..uld, 
An  emanation  of  the  i  1 1  i  1     .     _  I 
A  visible  token  of  tli.-  n;   .     i     _  1 
That  are  the  soul  of  thi-  m  i.|.   mm  ■■!-■■ 

My  heart  is  awed  within  me,  when  I  think 
Of  the  great  miracle  that  still  goes  on, 
In  silence,  round  me  —  the  perpetual  work 
Of  thy  creation,  finished,  yet  renewed 
Forever.     Written  on  thy  works  I  read 
The  lesson  of  thy  own  eternity. 
Lo  !  all  grow  old  and  die  —  but  see,  again. 
How  on  the  faltering  footsteps  of  decay 
Youth  presses  —  ever  gay  and  beautiful  youth 
In  all  its  beautiful  forms.     These  lofty  trees 
Wave  not  less  proudly  that  their  ancestors 
Moulder  beneath  them.     Oh,  there  is  not  lost 
One  of  earth's  charms  :  upon  her  bosom  yet, 
After  the  flight  of  untold  centuries. 
The  freshness  of  her  far  beginning  lies. 
And  yet  shall  lie.     Life  mocks  the  idle  hate 
Of  his 'arch  enemy  Death  — yea,  seals  himself 
Upon  the  si'|iu!i'lirr,  ami  l.liiMiii-  aii'i  Miiik-S, 

Makes  his  own  luinii-liiiinit.      I'..r  111'  raiiie  forth 
From  thine  uwu  bu^um,  and  sliall  !i;lvc  no  end. 

There  have  been  holy  men  who  hid  themselves 
Deep  in  the  woody  wilderness,  and  gave 
Their  lives  to  thought  and  prayer,  till  they  outlived 
The  generation  born  with  them,  nor  seemed 
Less  aged  than  tho  hoary  trees  and  rocks 
Around  them  ;  —  and  there  have  been  holy  men 
Who  deemed  it  were  not  well  to  pass  life  thus. 
But  let  me  often  to  these  solitudes 
Retire,  and  in  thy  presence  reassure 
My  feeble  virtue.     Here  its  encmic.i. 
The  passions,  at  thy  plainer  footsteps  shrink 
And  tremble  and  are  still.     0  God  !  when  Thou 


40 


RURAL    POETRY. BRYANT MERRICK MILTON. 


Dost  scare  the  world  with  tempests,  sett'st  on  fire 
The  heavens  with  falling  thunderbolts,  or  fiU'st 
With  all  the  waters  of  the  firmament 
The  swift  dark  whirlwind,  that  uproots  the  woods 
And  drowns  the  villages  :  when,  at  thy  call. 
Uprises  the  great  deep  and  throws  himself 
Upon  the  continent,  and  overwhelms 
Its  cities  —  who  forgets  not,  at  the  sight 
Of  these  tremendous  tokens  ef  thy  power. 
His  pride,  and  lays  his  strifes  and  follies  by  ? 
O,  from  these  sterner  aspects  of  thy  face 
Spare  me  and  mine,  nor  let  us  need  the  wrath 
Of  the  ma<l,  unchained  elements,  to  teach 
Who  rules  them.     Be  it  ours  to  meditate 
In  these  calm  shades  thy  milder  majesty, 
And  to  the  beautiful  order  of  thy  works 
Learn  to  conform  the  order  of  our  lives. 


MERRICK'S  PSALM  EIGHTH. 

Immortal  King  !  through  earth's  wide  frame, 

How  great  thy  honor,  praise,  and  name  ! 

Whose  reign  o'er  distant  worlds  extends, 

Whose  glory  heaven's  vast  height  transcends. 

Prom  infants  Thou  canst  strength  upraise. 

And  form  their  lisping  tongues  to  praise  : 

By  these  the  vengeance-breathing  foe. 

Thy  mightier  terrors  taught  to  know, 

In  mute  astonishment  shall  stand. 

And  bow  beneath  thy  conquering  hand. 

When,  rapt  in  thought,  with  wakeful  eye 

I  view  the  wonders  of  the  sky. 

Whose  frame  thy  fingers  o'er  our  head 

In  rich  magnificence  have  spread  ; 

The  silent  moon,  with  waxing  horn. 

Along  the  ethereal  region  borne  ; 

The  stars  with  vivid  lustre  crowned. 

That  nightly  walk  their  destined  round  ;  — 

Lord  !  what  is  man,  that  in  thy  care 

His  humble  lot  should  find  a  share  ? 

Or  what  the  son  of  man,  that  Thou 

Thus  to  his  wants  thy  ear  should  bow  ? 

His  rank  a  while,  by  thy  decree. 

The  angelic  tribes  beneath  them  see. 

Till  round  him  thy  imparted  rays 

With  unextinguished  glory  blaze. 

Subjected  to  his  feet  by  Thee, 

To  him  all  nature  bows  the  knee  ; 

The  beasts  in  him  their  lord  behold  ; 

The  grazing  herd,  the  bleating  fold. 

The  savage  race,  a  countless  train. 

That  range  at  largo  the  extended  plain  ; 

The  fowls,  of  various  wing,  that  fly 

O'er  the  vast  desert  of  the  sky  ; 

And  all  the  watery  tribes,  that  glide 

Through  paths,  to  human  sight  denied. 

Immortal  King  !  through  earth's  wide  frame. 

How  great  thy  honor,  praise,  and  name  ! 


MILTON'S  "MORNING  HYMN" 

OF   ADAM   AND   EVE. 

These  are  thy  glorious  works.  Parent  of  good  ! 
Almighty  !  thine  this  universal  frame, 
Thus  wondrm,..  fiir  ;   thv.-rir  how  wondrous  then  ! 
Unspeakalilr,  uli.i  ,-ilC-i  ::\„,^,:  these  heavens 

ToUSinvisililr,    .„■   ,l,„,iv    -r,, 

In  these  thy  l.iur-t  w.nks  ;   yet  these  declare 
Thy  goodness  beyond  thought,  and  power  divine. 
Speak,  ye  who  best  can  tell,  ye  sons  of  light. 
Angels  ;  for  ye  behold  Him,  and  with  songs 
And  choral  symphoni.-.  Jmv  ivith.iut  iii_'lit, 
Circle  his  throne  rcjni.iim  ;   y,-  n,  li,  :m^„, 

On  earth  join  all  ye  ur.nf i,,  ,m,,| 

Him  first.  Him  last,  Ilim  iiii>|.t.  :in,|  without  end. 

Fairest  of  stars,  last  in  the  train  of  night. 

If  better  thou  belong  not  to  the  dawn. 

Sure  pledge  of  day,  that  crown'st  the  smiling  mori 


,  ]'r;ii-i.'  Him  in  thy  sphere, 
•\w  1  1  linur  of  prime. 
I  u-ii  hi  l)oth  eye  and  soul, 
gi'  ai.T,  sound  his  praise 
both  when  thou  climb'st, 
hast  gained,  and  when  thou 

in,  now  fly'st. 


With  thy  bri  fill  I 
Whileday  an  . 
Thou  Sun,  ..r  III 
Acknowledge  1 1 
In  thy  eternal  e 
And  when  high 

fall'st. 
Moon,  that  now  meet'st  th 

With  the  fixed  stars,  fixed  in  their  orb  that  flies, 
And  ye  five  other  wandering  fires  that  move 
In  mystic  dance  not  without  song,  resound 
His  praise,  who  out  of  darkness  called  up  light. 
Air,  and  ye  Elements,  the  eldest  birth 
Of  Nature's  womb,  that  in  quaternion  run 
Perpetual  circle,  multiform  ;  and  mix 
And  nourish  all  things  ;  let  your  ceaseless  change 
Vary  to  our  great  Maker  still  new  praise. 
Ye  Mists  and  Exhalations  that  now  rise 
From  hill  or  steaming  lake,  dusky  or  gr.ay. 
Till  the  sun  paint  your  fleecy  skirts  with  gold. 
In  honor  to  the  world's  great  Author  rise, 
AVhether  to  deck  with  clouds  the  uncolored  sky. 
Or  wet  the  thirsty  earth  with  falling  showers. 
Rising  or  falling  still  advance  his  praise. 
His  praise,  ye  Winds,  that  from  four  quarters  blow. 
Breathe  soft  or  loud  ;  and  wave  your  tops,  ye  Pines, 
With  every  Plant  in  sign  of  worship  wave. 
Fountains,  and  ye  that  warble  as  ye  flow. 
Melodious  murmurs,  warbling  tune  his  praise. 
Join  voices,  all  ye  living  Souls  ;  ye  Birds, 
That,  singing,  up  to  heaven's  gate  ascend. 
Bear  on  your  wings  and  in  your  notes  his  praise. 
Vc  tliiii  111  uatrr,-  -li.le,  and  ye  that  walk 
Tlh'  .a  till,  a  III  I    talrly  tread,  or  lowly  creep  ; 

To  hill  ur  Millcy,  luuiitain,  or  fresh  shade. 
Made  vocal  by  my  song,  and  taught  his  praise. 
Hail,  universal  Lord  !  be  bounteous  still 
To  give  us  only  good  ;  and  if  the  night 
Have  gathered  aught  of  evil,  or  concealed, 
Disperse  it,  as  now  light  dispels  the  dark. 


''^^''?U\V     . 


SPRING-APRIL, 


liMoointic Ill's    ''Jarnur's    tUii. 


Invocation,  kc.     Seed-time.     Tl 
Milking.    The  d.iiry.     Sufft 
forth.    Sheep  fnn 
butcher. 


Morning  walks. 
v5uiit.iK  tiiccse.      spring  coming 
fnnit  uf  changing.     Laraibs  at  piay.    The 
ipathy  yields  to  Necessity  and  Hope. 


0  COME,  blest  Spirit !  whatsoe'er  thou  art, 
Thou  rushing  warmth  that  hover'st  round  my  heart, 
Sweet  inmate,  hail  !  thou  source  of  sterling  joy, 
That  poverty  itself  cannot  destroy. 
Be  thou  my  Muse  ;  and,  faithful  still  to  mo, 
Retrace  the  paths  uf  wild  obscurity. 
No  deeds  of  arms  my  humblo  linos  rehearse, 
No  Alpine  wonders  thunder  through  my  verso. 
The  roaring  cataract,  the  snow-topt  hill, 
Inspiring  awe,  till  breath  itself  stands  still  : 
Nature's  sublimer  scenes  ne'er  charmed  mine  oyea. 
Nor  science  led  me  through  the  boundlesjs  skies  ; 
From  meaner  objects  far  my-rapturos  flow  : 
0,  point  these  raptures  !  bid  my  bosom  glow  ! 


And  lead  my  soul  to  ecstasies  of  praise 

For  all  the  blessings  of  my  infant  days  ! 

Bear  me  through  regions  where  gay  fancy  dwells  ; 

But  mould  to  truth's  fair  form  what  memory  tells. 

GILES,  THE   farmer's  BOY,  HIS  JOTS,  SORROWS,  AND    IDEAS  ; 


Live,  trifling  incidents,  and  grace  my  song, 
That  to  the  humblest  menial  belong  : 
To  him  whose  drudgery  unheeded  goes. 
His  joys  unreckoned  as  his  cares  or  woes  ; 
Though  joys  and  cares  in  every  path  are  sown. 
And  youthful  minds  have  feelings  of  their  own, 
Quick  springing  sorrows,  transient  as  the  dew, 
Delights  from  trifles,  trifles  ever  new. 
'T  was  thus  with  Gii-es  :  meek,  fatherless,  and  poor  : 
Labor  his  portion,  but  ho  felt  no  more  ; 
No  stripes,  no  tyranny,  his  steps  pursued  ; 
Ilis  life  was  constant,  cheerful  servitude  : 
Strange  to  the  world,  he  wore  a  bashful  look, 
The  fields  his  study,  nature  was  his  book  ; 
And,  as  revolving  Seasons  changed  the  scene 
From  heat  to  cold,  tempestuous  to  serene. 
Though  every  change  still  varied  his  employ, 
Vet  each  new  duty  brought  its  sharo  of  joy. 


RURAL    POETRY. BLOOMFIELD. 


Giles's  home  and  master. — grafton. — euston,  in  sh 
folk  ;  scenes  of  giles's  boyhood. 
Where  noble  Grafton  spreads  his  rich  domains, 
Round  Euston's  watered  vale,  and  sloping  plains, 
Where  woods  and  groves  in  solemn  grandeur  rise, 
Where  the  kite  brooding  unmolested  flies  ; 
The  woodeocls  and  the  painted  pheasant  race. 
And  skulking  foxes,  destined  for  the  chase  ; 


There  Giles,  untaught 
Through  every  cii|im'. 
There  his  first  tli.iuuli 
That  stamp  devition  < 


og,  strayed 
ul  winding  glade; 
^  charms  inclined, 


A  little  farm  hi.s  generous  master  tilled. 
Who  with  peculiar  grace  his  station  filled  ; 
By  deeds  „f  l,..siiit:ility  c„,l,.arc.l, 

Served  I'l !i..ti.n,,  l-r  hi-  wmlh  revered; 

Ahii|.|iv  -li-i-inr,  l.l.-i  111-  |.|.iilruus  board, 
His  ficMs  u.iv  Ini.lliil,  iiiul  h,~  iKuns  well  stored. 
And  four-score  ewes  he  fed,  a  sturdy  team. 
And  lowing  kine  that  grazed  beside  the  stream  : 
Unceasing  industry  he  kept  in  view  ; 
And  never  lacked  a  job  for  Giles  to  do. 

THE  COMING   OF  SPRING  ;    VERDURE. 

Fled  now  the  sullen  murmurs  of  the  north, 
The  splendid  raiment  of  the  Spring  peeps  forth  ; 
Her  universal  green,  and  the  clear  sky. 
Delight  still  more  and  more  the  gazing  eye. 
Wide  o'er  the  fields,  in  rising  moisture  strong. 
Shoots  up  the  simple  flower,  or  creeps  along 
The  mellowed  soil  ;  imbibing  fairer  hues, 
Or  sweets  from  frequent  showers  and  evening  dews  ; 
That  summon  from  its  shed  the  slumbering  ploughs. 
While  health  impregnates  every  breeze  that  blows. 

HORSE-PLOCGHISG  ;     THE     PLOCGHED     FIELD  ;     BIRDS     THAT 

No  wheels  support  the  diving  pointed  share  ; 
No  groaning  ox  is  doomed  to  labor  there  ; 
No  helpmates  teach  the  d 


teed  his  road 
and  the  goad); 


es  hi; 


Draws  his  lif»h  |.:ualklf,  and,  widening  still. 
Treads  slow  the  heavy  dale,  or  climbs  the  hill : 
Strong  on  the  wing  his  busy  followers  play,     [day  ; 
AVhere  writhing  earth-worms  meet  the  unwelcome 
Till  all  is  changed,  and  hill  and  level  down 
Assume  a  livery  of  sober  brown  :  — 


Hour  after  hour  and  day  to  day  succeeds  ; 
Till  every  clod  and  deep-drawn  furrow  spreads 
To  crumbling  mould  ;  a  level  surface  clear. 
And  strewed  with  oift-n  to  crown  the  rising  year  ; 
And  o'er  the  whole  Giles  once  transverse  again, 
In  earth's  moist  bosom  buries  up  the  grain. 


The  work  is  done  ;   no  more  to  Man  is  given  ; 
The  grateful  farmer  trusts  the  rest  to  Heaven. 
Yet  oft  with  anxious  heart  he  looks  around. 
And  marks  the  first  green  blade  that  breaks  the 
In  fancy  sees  his  trembling  oats  uprun,      [ground  ; 
His  tufted  barley  yellow  with  the  sun  ; 
Sees  clouds  propitious  shed  their  timely  store, 
And  all  his  harvest  gathered  round  his  door. 


Ihit  still  unsafe  tliv  1m:_-  -v,,.;,,  .,i,nn  l..>l.)w, 
A  favorite  morsel  with  lli-  n".l>  ;uM  -r.nv  ; 
From  field  to  field  the  fluck  increasing  goes  ; 
To  level  crops  most  formidable  foes  : 
Their  danger  well  the  wary  plunderers  know. 
And  place  a  watch  on  some  conspicuous  bough  ; 
Yet  oft  the  skulking  gunner  by  surprise 
Will  scatter  death  amongst  them  as  they  rise. 
These,  bung  in  triumph  round  the  spacious  field. 
At  best  will  but  a  short-lived  terror  yield  : 
Nor  guards  of  property  (not  penal  law. 
But  harmless  riflemen  of  rags  and  straw) ; 
Familiarized  to  these,  they  boldly  rove. 
Nor  heed  such  sentinels  that  never  move. 
Let,  then,  your  birds  lie  prostrate  on  the  earth. 
In  dying  posture,  and  with  wings  stretched  forth  ; 
Shift  them  at  eve  or  morn  from  place  to  place. 
And  death  shall  terrify  the  pilfering  race  ; 
In  the  mid  air,  while  circling  round  and  round, 
They  call  their  lifeless  comrades  from  the  ground  ; 
With  quickening  wing,  and  notes  of  loud  alarm. 
Warn  the  whole  flock  to  shun  the  impending  harm. 

GILES'S  WALK  AT   DAWN  ;   HIS   MATINS,    AND    THOSE   OF   THE 
MORNING  BIRDS  ;  THE  BLACKBIRD,  WHITE-THROAT,  TUIICSH. 

This  task  had  Giles,  in  fields  remote  from  home  ; 
Oft  has  he  wished  the  rosy  mom  to  come. 
\'et  never  famed  was  he  nor  foremost  found 
To  break  the  seal  of  sleep  ;  his  sleep  was  sound  : 
But  when  at  daybreak  summoned  from  his  bed. 
Light  as  the  lark  that  carolled  o'er  his  head,  — 
His  sandy  way  deep-worn  by  hasty  shower: 


Again  disturbed,  when  Giles  with  wearying  strides 
From  ridge  to  ridge  the  ponderous  harrow  guides  ; 
His  heels  deep  sinking  every  step  he  goes. 
Till  dirt  usurp  the  empire  of  his  shoes. 
Welcome,  green  headland  !  firm  beneath  his  feet ; 
Welcome  the  friendly  bank's  refreshing  seat ; 
There,  warm  with  toil,  his  panting  horses  browse 
Their  sheltering  canopy  of  pendent  boughs  ; 
Till  rest,  delicious,  chase  each  transient  pain. 
And  new-born  vigor  swell  in  every  vein. 


rched  with  oaks  that  formed  fantastic  bowers, 
Waving  aloft  their  towering  branches  proud. 
In  borrowed  tinges  from  the  eastern  cloud 
(Whence  inspiration,  pure  as  ever  flowed, 
And  genuine  transport  in  his  bosom  glowed)  — 
His  own  shrill  matin  joined  the  various  notes 
Of  nature's  music,  from  a  thousand  throats  : 
The  blackbird  strove  with  emulation  sweet. 
And  echo  answered  from  her  close  retreat  ; 
The  sporting  white-throat,  on  some  twig's  end  borne 
Poured  hymns  to  freedom  and  the  rising  morn  ; 


43 


Stopped  in  her  song,  perobanoe,  the  starting  thrush 
Shook  a  white  shower  from  the  black-thoru  bush, 
Where  dew-drops  thick  as  early  blossoms  bung, 
And  trembled  as  the  minstrel  sweetly  sung. 

PHEASANT.  — TUB   OBATU  ;    WOOU  J    FOX  AND    HIS   VICTIMS. 

Acro.ss  his  path,  in  either  grove  to  hide, 
The  timid  rabbit  scouted  by  his  side  ; 
Or  bold  cock-pheasant  stalked  along  the  road, 
Whose  gold  and  purple  tints  alternate  glowed. 
But  groves  no  further  fenced  the  devious  way  ; 
A  wide-extended  heath  before  him  lay, 
M'hcre  on  the  grass  the  stagnant  shower  had  run. 
And  shone  a  mirror  to  the  rising  sun 
(Thus  doubly  seen),  lighting  a  distant  wood. 
Giving  new  life  to  each  expanding  bud  ; 
EtFacing  quick  the  dewy  foot-marks  found, 
Where  prowling  lleynard  trod  his  nightly  round  ; 
To  shun  whose  thefts  't  was  Giles's  evening  care 
Ilis  feathered  victims  to  suspend  In  air, 
High  on  the  bough  that  nodded  o'er  his  head  ; 
And  thus  each  morn  to  strew  the  field  with  dead. 


His  simple  errand  done,  he  homeward  hies  ; 
Another  instantly  its  place  supplies. 
The  clattering  dairy-maid  immersed  in  steam, 
Singing  and  scrubbing  midst  her  milk  and  cream. 
Bawls  out, '  Go  fetch  the  cows  ! ' —  he  hears  no  more ; 
For  pigs,  and  ducks,  and  turkeys,  throng  the  door. 
And  sitting  hens,  for  constant  war  prepared  ; 
A  concert  strange  to  that  which  late  he  heard. 
Straight  to  the  meadow  then  he  whistling  goes  ; 
With  well-known  halloo  calls  his  lazy  cows  : 
Down  the  rich  pasture  heedlessly  they  graze, 
Or  hear  the  summons  with  an  idle  gaze  ; 
For  well  they  know  the  cow-yard  yields  no  more 
Its  tempting  fragrance,  nor  Its  wintry  store. 
Reluctance  marks  their  steps,  sedate  and  slow  ; 
The  right  of  conquest  all  the  law  they  know  : 
Subordinate  they  one  by  one  succeed  ; 
And  one  among  them  always  takes  the  lead, 
Is  ever  foremost,  whercsoo'er  they  stray  ; 
Allowed  precedence,  undisputed  sway  ; 
With  jealous  pride  her  station  is  maintained. 
For  many  a  broil  that  post  of  honor  gained. 


At  home,  the  yard  affords  a  grateful  scone  : 
For  Spring  makes  e'en  a  miry  cow-yard  clean. 
Thence  from  its  chalky  bed  behold  convoyed 
The  rich  manure  that  drenching  Winter  made, 
Which,  piled  near  home,  grows  green  with  many  a 
A  promised  nutriment  fi)r  Autumn's  seed.        [weed, 
Forth  comes  the  maid,  and  like  the  mornjng  smiles; 
The  mistress  too,  and  followed  close  by  Giles. 


A  friendly  tripod  forms  their  humble  seat, 
With  pails  bright  scoured,  and  delicately  sweet. 


Where  shadowing  elms  obstruct  the  morning  ray. 
Begins  their  work,  begins  the  simple  lay  ; 
The  full-charged  udder  yields  its  willing  streams, 
While  Mary  sings  some  lover's  amorous  dreams  ; 
And  crouching  Giles  beneath  a  neighboring  tree 
Tugs  o'er  his  pail,  and  chants  with  eiiuul  glee  ; 
AVhose  hat  with  tattered  brim,  of  nap  so  bare, 
From  the  cow's  side  purloins  a  coat  of  hair, 
A  mottled  ensign  of  his  harmless  trade, 
An  unambitious,  peaceable  cockade. 


As  unambitious,  too,  that  cheerful  aid 
The  mistress  yields  beside  her  rosy  maid  : 
With  joy  she  views  her  plenteous  recking  s 
And  bears  a  brimmer  to  the  dairy  door  ; 
Ilcr  o..w^  .liMiiiys.'.l,  the  lusrinus  uu-.vl  I.,  r 

Till   •■'-•■   .■,.,,,,    ,.>,,ll    th..M    1^.;M..I    i ■ 


At  once  luregueti  iU  quality  and  name  ; 
From  knotty  particles  first  floating  wide 

Cc.n<;caliim'  InittrrV  -la-ln-.I  fr^m  side  to  side  ; 

Sir-  .1111-  ■■:  I,.  *■,   ;(iiii.  ilii  ..n^:i  tl.nving  coolcrs  stray. 
An. I  mill  wholesome  whey. 

I'ui  .    li:  _    II.:   I   \\ -.  cold  and  clear, 

I'ur  uaiiiiiii^  .-Liiil-.aai.-  aiL  uiiuclcomo  here. 


Brisk  goes  the  work  beneath  each  busy  hand, 
And  Giles  must  trudge,  whoever  gives  command  ; 
A  Gibeonite,  that  serves  them  all  by  turns  : 
He  drains  the  pump,  from  him  the  fagot  burns  ; 
From  him  the  noisy  hog?:  demand  th.-ir  f..od  ; 
While  at  his  heelsVun  nl,M,^  ,,  -In,  in,,  I. mud. 
Or  down  his  path  in  r\]  ■      i' .   u        i   i 
With  equal  claims  uiMii  ',i      ii    i,  i,i_     ,ih.[. 
Thus  wastes  the  mom,  lill  >  r  h  uitli  i  I.  ;i-iiro  sees 
The  bustle  o'er,  and  pressed  the  new-made  cheese. 

srPFOLK  SKra-MILK   CUHKSE.  —  LONDON   THE  GRAVE  0?  PRO- 
VISIONS ;    ITS   MARKET   AND   SUPPLIES. 

Unrivalled  stands  thy  country  cheese,  0  Giles  ! 
Whose  very  name  alone  engenders  smiles  ; 
Whose  fame  abroad  by  every  tongue  is  spoke, 
The  well-kuown  butt  of  many  a  flinty  joke, 
That  pass  like  current  coin  the  nation  through  ; 
And,  ah  !  experience  proves  the  satire  true. 
Provision's  grave,  thou  ever-craving  mart, 
Dependent,  huge  Metropolis  !  where  Art 
IK-r  pouring  thousands  stows  in  breathless  rooms, 
Midst  pois'nous  smokes  and  steams,  and  rattling 
Where  grandeur  revels  in  unbounded  stores;  [looms; 
Restraint,  a  slighted  stranger  at  their  doors  ! 
Thou,  like  a  whirlpool,  drain'st  the  countries  round, 
Till  London  market,  London  price,  resound 
Through  every  town,  round  every  passing  load, 
And  dairy  produce  throngs  the  eastern  road  : 
Delicious  veal,  and  butter,  every  hour, 
From  Essex  lowlands,  and  the  banks  of  Stour  ; 
And  further  far,  where  numerous  herds  repose, 
From  Orwell's  brink,  from  Wevony,  or  Ouse. 


RURAL    POETRY. 


BLOOMFIELD. 


DESCRIPTION   OF  THE  I 


3  run  mad  for  cream, 
thing  but  its  name  ; 


ty  treads, 
lilie  these, 


Hence  Suefolk '  dairy-wi 
And  leave  their  milk  with 
Its  name  derision 
And  strangers  tell 
To  cheese  converti'^l,  wlmi  '^ni  ^"-  "■  ouclm.  . 
What,  but  the  ci.iiHiH.ii  lirtu-"!  ;.  iiost! 
If  drought  o'ertak.  il  l.^t,-,  th.n  .!,,■  kmfe. 
Most  fair  it  bids  for  stubborn  length  of  life. 
And,  like  the  oaken  shelf  whereon  't  is  laid, 
Mocks  the  weak  efforts  of  the  bending  blade 
Or  in  the  hog-troii-li  nvt-^  in  perfrct  spite, 
Toobig  to  swall"".  ini'l  '■'••  b:ii'l  *"  ''i'^'=- 
Inglorious  vieturv  ' 
Or  Severn's  flowery  'l:i 
Was  your  rich  milk  tc 
Farewell  your  pride  !  farewell  renowned  ch 
The  skimmer  dread,  whose  ravages  alone 
Thus  turn  the  mead's  sweet  nectar  into  stoi 


Neglected  now  the  early  daisy  lies  : 
Nor  thou,  pale  primrose,  bloom'st  the  only  prize  : 
Advancing  Spring  profusely  spreads  abroad 
Flowers  of  all  hues,  with  sweetest  fragrance  stored  ; 
Where'er  she  treads,  Love  gladdens  every  plain. 
Delight  on  tiptoe  bears  her  lucid  train  ; 
Sweet  Hope  with  conscious  brow  before  her  flies. 
Anticipating  wealth  from  summer  skies  ; 
All  nature  feels  her  renovating  sway  ; 
The  sheep-fed  pasture,  and  the  meadow  gay. 
And  trees,  and  shrubs,  no  longer  budding  seen. 
Display  the  new-grown  branch  of  lighter  green  ; 
On  airy  downs  the  shepherd  idling  lies. 
And  sees  to-morrow  in  the  marbled  skies.  ■ 
Here,  then,  my  soul,  thy  darling  theme  pursue, 
For  every  day  was  Giles  a  shepherd  too. 


High  fences,  proud  to  charm  the  gazing  eye. 
Where  many  a  nestling  first  essays  to  fly  ; 
Where  blows  the  woodbine,  faintly  streaked  with  red. 
And  rests  on  every  bough  its  tender  head  ; 
Round  the  young  ash  its  twining  branches  meet. 
Or  orown  the  hawthorn  with  its  odors  sweet. 


PLEASIIKE    IN  TBE   GAMBOLS 


who  have  felt  and  s 


FOOD    NECESSARY-,    FENCES,    WOODBINE,  ASH,    UA«  IIK'H.'.. 

Small  was  his  charge  :  no  wilds  had"  they  to  roam 
But  bright  enclosures  circling  round  their  home. 
Nor  yellow-blossomed  furze,  nor  stubborn  thorn. 
The  heath's  rough  produce,  had  their  fleeces  torn  : 
Yet  ever  roving,  ever  seeking  thee. 
Enchanting  spirit,  dear  Variety  ! 
0  happy  tenants,  prisoners  of  a  day  ! 
Released  to  ease,  to  pleasure,  and  to  play  ; 
Indulged  through  every  field  by  turns  to  range, 
And  taste  them  all  in  one  continual  change. 
For  though  luxuriant  their  grassy  food. 
Sheep  long  confined  but  loathe  the  present  good  ; 

Bleating  around  the  homeward  gate  they  meet. 

And  starve,  and  pine,  with  plenty  at  their  feet. 

Loosed  from  the  winding  lane,  a  joyful  throng, 

See,  o'er  yon  pasture  how  they  pour  along  ! 

Giles  round  their  boundaries  takes  his  usual  stroll ; 

Sees  every  pass  secured,  and  fences  whole  ; 
1  Suffolk,  a  county  ui  the  eastern  part  of  Englan.1,  with 

the  North  Si 

bridgeshire  v 


„t  Norfolk  north,  Essex  south,  and  Cam- 
t  i  population  in  1851,  337,000. 


SVMPATHT    WITH    INNOCENCE 

Say,  ye  that  know,  ye 
Spring's  morning  smiloH, 
Say,  did  you  give  the  tli 
Did  your  eye  brighten,  ' 
Leaped  o'er  your  path  n 
Or  gazed  in  merry  eUi>t. 
Yo  who  can  smile,  to  wi 


If  spotless  innocence,  and  infant  mirth, 
Excites  to  praise,  or  gives  reflection  birth  ; 
In  shades  like  these  pursue  your  favorite  joy. 
Midst  Nature's  revels,  sports  that  never  cloy. 

LAMBKINS  AT  PLAY. 

A  few  begin  a  short  but  vigorous  race. 
And  indolence  abashed  soon  flies  the  place  ; 
Thus  challenged  forth,  see  thither,  one  by  one. 
From  every  side  assembling  playmates  run  : 
A  thousand  wily  antics  mark  their  stay, 
A  starting  crowd,  impatient  of  delay. 
Like  the  fond  dove  from  fearful  prison  freed, 
Each  seems  to  say,  '  Come,  let  us  try  our  speed  ; ' 
Away  they  scour,  impetuous,  ardent,  strong. 
The  green  turf  trembling  as  they  bound  along  ; 
Adown  the  slope,  then  up  the  hillock  climb. 
Where  every  molehill  is  a  bed  of  thyme  ; 
There  panting  stop  ;  yet  scarcely  can  refrain  ; 
A  bird,  a  leaf,  will  set  them  off  again  : 
Or,  if  a  gale  with  strength  unusual  blow. 
Scattering  the  wild-brier  roses  into  snow, 
Tlieir  little  limbs  increasing  efforts  try  ; 
Like  the  torn  flower  the  fair  assemblage  fly. 

LAMBS,   LIKE  SPRING  FLORETS,   DESTINED  TO   EARLY   DEATH. 

Ah,  fallen  rose  !  sad  emblem  of  their  doom  ; 
Frail  as  thyself,  they  perish  while  they  bloom  ! 
Though  unoffending  innocence  may  plead. 
Though  frantic  ewes  may  mourn  the  savage  deed. 
Their  shepherd  comes,  a  messenger  of  blood, 
And  drives  them  bleating  from  their  sports  and  food : 
Care  loads  his  brow,  and  pity  wrings  his  heart. 
For,  lo,  the  murdering  butcher  with  his  cart 
Demands  the  firstlings  of  bis  flock  to  die, 
And  makes  a  sport  of  life  and  liberty  ! 
His  gay  companions  Giles  beholds  no  more  ; 
Closed  are  their  eyes,  their  fleeces  drenched  in  gore; 
Nor  can  compassion,  with  her  softest  notes. 
Withhold    the   knife  that  plunges    through    their 
Down,  indignation  !  hence,  ideas  foul !    [throats. 
Away  the  shocking  image  from  my  soul  ! 
Let  kindlier  visitants  attend  my  way. 
Beneath  approaching  Summer's  fervid  ray  ; 
Nor  thankless  glooms  obtrude,  nor  cares  annoy, 
Whilst  the  sweet  theme  is  Universal  Joy. 


4!:istor:il5  for  J^jri 


'TITYUUS   AND   MELIBtEUS." 
A    BUCOI.IC. 


I  Miintuan  neighbors  in  the  < 


Bexeath  the  shade  which  becohen  boughs  diffuse, 
You,  Tityrus,  entertain  your  sylvan  muse  ; 
Kound  the  wide  world  in  banishment  wo  roam, 
Forced  from  our  plesvsing  fields  and  'native  home  ; 
While,  stretched  at  ease,  you  sing  your  happy  loves ; 
And  Amaryllis  fills  the  shady  groves. 

TITVBrS. 

These  blessings,  friend,  a  deity  bestowed  ; 
For  never  can  I  deem  him  less  than  god. 
The  tender  firstlin<;s  •■{my  wnMlly  l.ieed 

Shall  on  his  holy  ;iltav. lit,,,  1,1 i. 

He  gave  my  kine  tc>  -m/r  th,-  iIum'i  v  phiin, 
And  to  my  pijKj  reiu'wia  the  nual  >lniin. 


I  envy  not  your  fortune,  but  admire, 
That  while  the  raging  sword  and  wasteful  fire 
Destroy  the  wretched  neighborhood  around, 
No  hostile  arms  approach  your  happy  ground. 
Far  different  is  my  fate  ;  my  feeble  goats 
With  pains  I  drive  from  their  forsaken  cots  ; 
And  this  you  see  I  scarcely  drag  along, 
AVho  yeaning  on  the  rocks  has  left  her  young 
(The  hope  and  promise  of  my  failing  fold). 
My  loss,  by  dire  portents,  the  gods  foretold  ; 
For,  had  I  not  been  blind,  I  might  have  seen 
Yon  riven  oak,  the  fairest  of  the  green. 
And  the  hoarse  raven,  on  the  blasted  bough, 
By  croaking  from  the  left  presaged  the  coming  blow. 
But  tell  me,  Tityrus,  what  heavenly  power 
Preserved  your  fortunes  in  that  fatal  hour? 

Fool  that  I  wai! !  I  tliought  imperial  Rome 
Like  Mantua,  where  on  market-days  we  come. 
And  thither  drive  our  tender  lambs  from  home. 
So  kids  and  whelps  their  sires  and  dams  express  ; 


.\nd  so  the  great  T  measured  by  the  less. 

liut  country-towns,  compared  witli  her,  appear 

Like  shrubs,  when  lofty  cypresses  are  near. 

What  great  occasion  called  you  hence  to  Rome  ? 


Freedom,  which  camo  at  length,  though  slow  to 
Nor  did  my  search  of  liberty  begin,  [come. 

Till  my  black  hairs  were  changed  upon  my  chin  : 
Nor  .^ma^ylIis  would  vouchsafe  a  look. 

Till  i;;,l:,t.:,'     .,h  ;M1.  ,    I.Hlids  I  broke. 

Till  iIm  II  .1  in  Ipl,       li.,|iele.ss,  homely  swain, 
I  sniijir  III  ii .  I  i  !i:    iinr  ospircd  to  gain  ; 
Th..„^-1,  „i;,„>  :,     ,  ,  i„,  iv„„,  „,y  folds  was  bought. 
And  many  a  .-li.  i  -.    1m  imiiilIiv  miirkets  brought, 
Yetall  thelittl.'  iln.t  I  -..i  I  -|,r,it. 
And  still  returiRil  a-  miiitv  :t-  I  went. 


We  stood  amazed  to  see  your  mistress  mourn  ; 
Unknowing  that  she  pined  for  your  return  : 
We  wondered  why  she  kept  her  fruit  so  long, 
For  whom  so  late  the  ungathered  apples  hung. 
But  now  the  wonder  ceases,  since  I  see 
She  kept  them  only,  Tityrus,  for  thee. 
For  thee  the  bubbling  springs  appeared  to  mourn. 
And  whispering  pines  made  vows  for  thy  return. 


What  shonld  I  do?  while  here  I  was  enchained  ; 
No  glimpse  of  godlike  liberty  remained  ; 
Nor  could  I  hope  in  any  place  but  there 
To  find  a  god  so  present  to  my  prayer. 
There  first  the  youth  of  heavenly  birth  I  viewed. 
For  whom  our  monthly  victims  are  renewed. 
Ho  heard  my  vows,  and  graciously  decreed 
My  grounds  to  be  restored,  my  former  flocks  to  feed. 


0,  fortunate  old  man  !  whoso  farm  remains 
l''or  you  sufficient,  and  requites  your  pains, 
Tliough  rushes  overspread  the  neighboring  plains. 
Though   hero  the  marshy  grounds  approach   your 
And  there  the  soil  a  stony  harvest  yields.       [fields. 
Your  teeming  ewes  shall  no  strange  meadows  try, 
Nor  fear  a  rot  from  tainted  company. 
Behold,  yon  bordering  fence  of  sallow  trees    [bees  ; 
Is  fraught  with  flowers,  the  flowers  are  fraught  with 
The  busy  bees,  with  a  soft,  murmuring  strain. 
Invite  to  gentle  sleep  the  laboring  swain  ; 
While  from  the  neighboring  rock,  with  rural  songs, 
The  pruncr's  voice  the  pleasing  dream  prolongs  ; 


Stock-doves  and  turtles  tell  their  amorous  pain, 
And,  from  the  loftj  elms,  of  love  complain. 

TITTBCS. 

The  inhabitants  of  seas  and  skies  shall  change, 
And  fish  on  shore  and  stags  in  air  shall  range, 
The  banished  Parthian  dwell  on  Arar's  brink. 
And  the  blue  German  shall  the  Tigris  drink, 
Ere  I,  forsaking  gratitude  and  truth, 
Forget  the  figure  of  that  godlike  youth. 

MELIBCECS. 

But  we  must  beg  our  bread  in  climes  unknown, 
Beneath  the  scorching  or  the  freezing  zone  : 
And  some  to  far  Oasis  shall  be  sold, 
Or  try  the  Libyan  heat  ..r  Scythiiui  cold  ; 
The  rest  amon>;  tli-  I'.iiiin-  l.r  r,,i,|i„iHl, — 
A  race  of  men  I  r    .   iii    '    i'      .  i  'li-,i"inijd. 
6,  must  the  wr.  t     .  i  .    ii  .  i  inMuni, 

Nor  after  length  ul  lullin-  ,)  i.ii--  ii-turn? 
Are  we  condemned,  by  fate's  unjust  decree. 
No  more  our  houses  and  our  homes  to  see  ? 
Or  shall  wo  mount  again  the  rural  throne, 
And  rule  the  country  kingdoms,  once  our  own? 
Did  we  for  these  barbarians  plant  and  sow  ? 
On  these,  on  these,  our  happy  fields  bestow?    [flow  ! 
Good  Heaven  !  what  dire  effects  from  civil  discord 

Now  let  me  graft  my  pears,  and  prune  the  vine  — 
Tliu  fruit  is  theirs,  the  labor  only  mine. 
Farewell  my  pastures,  my  paternal  stock. 
My  fruitful  fields,  and  my  more  fruitful  flock  ! 
No  more,  my  goats,  shall  I  behold  you  climb 
The  steepy  cliffs,  or  crop  the  flowery  thyme  ! 
No  more,  extended  in  the  grot  below. 
Shall  see  you  browsing  on  the  mountain's  brow 
The  prickly  shrubs  ;  and  after  on  the  bare, 
Lean  down  the  deep  abyss,  and  hang  in  air. 
No  more  my  sheep  shall  sip  the  morning  dew  ; 
No  more  my  song  shall  please  the  rural  crew  ; 
Adieu,  my  tuneful  pipe  !  and  all  the  world  adieu  ! 


This  night,  at  least,  with  me  forget  your  care  ! 
Chestnuts  and  curds  and  cream  shall  be  your  fare  ; 
The  carpet-ground  shall  be  with  leaves  o'erspread. 
And  boughs  shall  weave  a  covering  for  your  head. 
For,  see  !  yon  sunny  hill  the  shade  extends, 
And  curling  smoke  from  cottages  ascends ! 


HERBERT-S  "NORTHERN  SPRING.^ 

A    DESCRIPTIVE    IDYL. 

Yestreen  the  mountain's  rugged  brow 
■\Vas  mantled  o'er  with  dreary  snow  ; 
The  sun  set  red  behind  the  hill. 
And  every  breath  of  wind  was  still ; 
But  ere  he  rose,  the  southern  blast 
A  veil  o'er  heaven's  blue  arch  had  cast ; 
Thick  rolled  the  clouds,  and  genial  rain 
Poured  the  wide  deluge  o'er  the  plain. 


Fair  glens  and  verdant  vales  appear. 

And  warmth  awakes  the  budding  year. 

0,  't  is  the  touch  of  fairy  hand 

That  wakes  the  spring  of  northern  land  ! 

It  warms  not  there  by  slow  degrees. 

With  changeful  pulse,  the  uncertain  breeze  ; 

But  sudden  on  the  wondering  sight 

Bursts  forth  the  beam  of  living  light, 

And  instant  verdure  springs  around. 

And  magic  flowers  bedeck  the  ground. 

Returned  from  regions  far  away, 

The  red-winged  throstle  pours  his  lay  ; 

The  soaring  snipe  salutes  the  spring, 

While  the  breeze  whistles  through  his  wing  ; 

And,  as  he  hails  the  melting  snows, 

The  heath-cock  claps  his  wing  and  crows. 


IIELEAGER'S    "SPRING.' 

AN    IDYL. 


TRANSLATED    BY 


J.    S.    BUCKMINSTBR.' 


Now  Winter's  storms,  which  chilled  the  sky. 
Before  the  tepid  breezes  fly  ; 
Smiling  advance  the  rosy  hours. 
Strewing  around  their  purple  flowers  ; 
Brown  earth  is  crowned  with  herbage  green. 
And  decked  with  bloom  each  twig  is  seen  ; 
The  rose  displays  its  lovely  hues 
In  meads,  which  quaff  the  morning  dews  ; 
His  whistle  shrill  the  shepherd  blows  ; 
His  kids  the  gladsome  goatherd  knows  ; 
E'en  now  I  see  the  sailor's  boat, 
Wafted  by  gentle  breezes,  float ; 
And  Bacchus'  girls,  with  ivy  crowned. 
Shout,  lo  !  through  the  echoing  ground. 
The  bees  in  clusters  round  the  hive. 
Loaded  with  liquid  sweets,  arrive  ; 
And,  murmuring  still  in  busy  mood. 
Elaborate  their  luscious  food. 
The  race  of  warblers  '  pour  their  throats  ; ' 
The  blue  wave  wafts  the  halcyon's  notes  ; 
The  swallow  twittering  flits  along  ; 
The  white  swan  pours  his  piercing  song  ; 
And  Philomela  mourns  the  woods  among. 

Does,  then,  the  green  earth  teem  with  gladness  7 
Has  Nature  dropt  her  robe  of  sadness  ? 
Do  the  swains  pipe  ;  the  flocks  rejoice  ; 
The  mountains  echo  Bacchus'  voice  ; 
The  mariners  their  sails  unloose  ; 
The  bees  distil  their  luscious  juice  ? 
Has  spring  inspired  the  warbling  throng  ? 
—  And  can't  the  poet  make  a  song  ? 


of  Decapolia,  east  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  He  wrote  in  Greek, 
ard  first  collected  a  Greek  Anthology.  The  translation  was 
made  hy  that  eleirant  schol.ir,  the  lamented  pastor  of  Brat- 
'■    1  church,  Boston,  and  first  appeared  in  the  Litertu-y 


Miscellany,  1805. 


^nnstroiui's    "^rt    of    iljcaltl).' 


ADDBES3  TO  HEALTH. — HER  ATTRIBUTES  AND  POWER. 

Daighter  of  Piean,  queen  of  every  joy, 
Hygcia  ;  '  whose  indulgent  smile  sustains 
The  various  race  lu.\uriant  nature  pours, 
Anil  on  the  immortal  essences  bestows 
Immortal  youth  ;  auspicious,  0  descend  ! 
Thou,  cheerful  guardian  of  the  rolling  year. 
Whether  thou  wauton'st  on  the  western  gale, 
Or  shak'st  the  rigid  pinions  of  the  north, 
Diffusest  life  and  vigor  tlimugh  the  tracts 
Of  air,  through  earth,  and  ..ccan's  deep  domain. 
When  through  the  blue  serenity  of  heaven 
Thy  power  approaches,  all  the  wasteful  host 
Of  pain  and  sickness,  squalid  and  deformed, 
Confounded  sink  into  the  loathsome  gloom, 
Where,  in  deep  Erebus  involved,  the  fiends 
Grow  more  profane.     Whatever  shapes  of  death, 
Shook  from  the  hideous  chambers  of  the  globe, 
Swarm  through  the  shuddering  air:  whatever  plagues 
Or  meagre  famine  breeds,  or  with  slow  wings 
Rise  from  the  putrid  watery  element. 
The  damp  waste  forest,  motionless  and  rank. 
That  smothers  earth  and  all  the  breathless  winds, 
Or  the  vile  carnage  of  the  inhuman  field  ; 
Whatever  baneful  breathes  the  rotten  south  ; 
Whatever  ills  the  extremes  or  sudden  change 
Of  cold  and  hot,  or  moist  and  dry,  produce  ; 
They  fly  thy  pure  effulgence  ;  they,  and  all 
The  secret  poisons  of  avenging  Heaven, 
And  all  the  pale  tribes  halting  in  the  train 
Of  vice  and  heedless  pleasure  :  or  if  aught 
The  comet's  glare  amid  the  burning  sky. 
Mournful  eclipse,  or  planets  ill  combined, 
Portend  disastrous  to  the  vital  world. 
Thy  salutary  power  averts  their  rage. 
Averts  the  general  bane  :  and  but  for  thee 
Nature  would  sicken,  nature  soon  would  die. 


Without  thy  cheerful  active  energy 
No  rapture  swells  the  breast,  no  poet  sings. 
No  more  the  maids  of  Ilelicim  delight. 
Come,  then,  with  me,  0  goddess,  heavenly-gay  ! 
Begin  the  song  ;  and  let  it  sweetly  flow. 
And  let  it  sweetly  teach  thy  wholesome  laws  : 
'  How  best  the  fickle  fabric  to  support 
Of  mortal  man  ;  in  healthful  body  how 

1  Hygeia,  the  goildcss  of  health,  was,  according  to  1 
genealogy  of  the  heathen  deities,  the  daughter  of  £sculaptu 
who,  as  well  as  Apollo,  was  distinguished  by  the  name 
Pseon,  Psean,  or  Pieeon. 


A  healthful  mind  the  longest  to  maintain.' 
'T  is  hard,  in  such  a  strife  of  rules,  to  ehooso 
The  best,  and  those  of  most  extensive  use  ; 
Harder  in  clear  and  animated  song 
Dry  philosophic  precepts  to  convey. 
Yet  with  tliy  aid  the  secret  wilds  I  trace 
Of  nature,  and  with  daring  steps  proceed 
Through  paths  the  muses  never  trod  before. 


Nor  should  T  wander  doubtful  of  my  way. 
Had  1  tilt;  liu'lit-  ..f  tliat  .sagacious  mind 
Wlji.'li  i:iH.:lii  I"  i  h.  <k  the  pestilential  fire, 
And  .|u.  II  111.    i.  i.lly  I'ythonof  the  Nile. 
0  tli'ui  tiiln\-d  I'v  ;ill  the  graceful  arts. 
Thou,  long  the  favorite  of  the  healing  powers, 
Indulge,  0  Mead  !  a  well-designed  esjsay, 
Howe'er  imperfect  ;  and  permit  that  I 
My  little  knowlril^n'  wiili  my  country  share, 
Tillyoutheii.il    \  'l.|i,iii    i.i,.-  unlock, 
And  with  new  ^-i  ,i  .  -  .iijiniv  ili.j  theme. 


Ye  who,  amid  this  feverish  world,  would  wear 
A  body  free  of  pain,  of  cares  a  mind. 
Fly  the  rank  city,  shun  its  turbid  Air  ; 
Breathe  not  the  chaos  of  eternal  smoke 
And  volatile  corruption,  from  the  dead, 
The  dying,  sickening,  and  the  living  world 
Exhaled,  to  sully  heaven's  transparent  dome 
With  dim  mortality.     It  is  not  Air 
That  from  a  th..ii^-.n.l  lir-._-=  rnpk«  back  to  thine. 
Sated  with  i-.xl  .     •  i      '     m.  1  IV-ll, 

Thespoilsul.il..  ;       .11    .    imtrid  thaw 

Of  nature  ;   wh.  n  lim  .Lii]..   nii.l  t.-xturc  sho 
Relapses  into  (igliting  elenients  :  — 
It  is  not  Air,  but  floats  a  nauseous  mass 
Of  all  obscene,  corrupt,  offensive  things. 
Much  moisture  hurts  ;  bnt  here  a  sordid  bath. 
With  oily  rancor  fraught,  relaxes  more 
The  solid  frame  than  simple  moisture  can. 
Beside,  immured  in  many  a  sullen  bay 
That  never  felt  the  freshness  of  the  breeze. 
This  slumbering  deep  remains,  and  ranker  grows 
With  sickly  rest  :  and  (though  the  lungs  abhor 
To  drink  the  dun,  fuliginous  abyss) 
Did  not  the  acid  vigor  of  the  mine, 
Rolled  from  so  many  thundering  chimneys,  tamo 
The  putrid  streams  that  overswarm  the  sky,  — 
This  caustic  venom  would  perhaps  corrode 
Those  tender  cells  that  draw  the  vital  air. 
In  vain  with  all  their  unctuous  rills  bedewed  ; 


48 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  ARMSTRONG. 


Or  by  the  drunken,  venous  tubes,  that  yawn 
In  countless  pores  o'er  all  the  pervious  skin. 
Imbibed,  would  poison  the  balsamic  blood, 
And  rouse  the  heart  to  every  fever's  rage. 


THE  CODNTRT  RECOMMENDED.- 

While  yet  you  breathe,  away  !  the  rural  wilds 
Invite  ;   the  mountains  call  you,  and  the  vales  ; 
The  woods,  the  streams,  and  each  ambrosial  breeze 
That  fans  the  ever-undulating  sky  ; 
A  kindly  sky  !  whose  fostering  power  regales 
Man,  beast,  and  all  the  vegetable  reign. 
Find  then  some  woodland  scene  where  Nature  smiles 
Benign,  where  all  her  honest  children  thrive. 
To  us  there  wants  not  many  a  happy  seat ! 
Look  round  the  smiling  land,  such  numbers  rise 
We  hardly  fix,  bewildered  in  our  choice. 


AM  }  HAMPSTEAD  J    DtJLWICH. 

See  where  enthroned  in  adamantine  state, 
Proud  of  her  bards,  imperial  Windsor  sits  ! 
There  choose  thy  seat  in  some  aspiring  grove 
Fast  by  the  slowly-winding  Thames  ;   or  where 
Broader  she  laves  fair  Richmond's  green  retreats 
(Richmond  that  sees  an  hundred  villas  rise 
Rural  or  gay).     Oh  !  from  the  summer's  rage, 
Oh  !  wrap  me  in  the  friendly  gloom  that  hides 
Umbrageous  Ham  !     But  if  the  busy  town 
Attract  thee  still  to  toil  for  power  or  gold. 
Sweetly  thou  may'st  thy  vacant  hours  possess 
In  Hampstead,  courted  by  the  western  wind  ; 
Or  Greenwich,  waving  o'er  the  winding  flood  ; 
Or  lose  the  world  amid  the  sylvan  wilds 
Of  Dulwich,  yet  by  barbarous  art  unspoiled. 

THE    PLAINS    OF    ESSEX  USHEALTHV.  —  A' 


Green  rise  the  Kentish  hills  in  cheerful  air  ; 
But  on  the  marshy  plains  that  Essex  spreads 
Build  not,  nor  rest  too  long  thy  wandering  feet. 
For  on  a  rustic  throne  of  dewy  turf, 
With  baneful  fogs  her  aching  temples  bound, 
Quartana  there  presides  ;   a  meagre  fiend 
Begot  by  Eurus,  when  his  brutal  force 
Compressed  the  slothful  Naiad  of  the  Fens. 
From  such  a  mixture  sprung,  this  fitful  pest 
With  feverish  blasts  subdues  the  sickening  land  : 
Cold  tremors  come,  with  mighty  love  of  rest, 
Convulsive  yawiiiiiirs.  lassitude,  and  pains 
That  stiiiLT  t!i''  Ixnilrnril  l>n^u-,  tnhgue  the  loins. 

Then  ii:iirliiiiL'-  Im  ;it  -iii.'.-.d-,  till  ropious  sweats 
O'erflou  —  ;i  -lp>ii  ;.  hrf  tnim  furnior  ills. 
Benealli  M|ir:ii.i|  ~li. irks  the  wretches  pine  ; 
The  \\'2-'\  -ink-.  I  In-  li;ihit  melts  away  ; 
The  clin  rtiil,  jmir,  ;nMl  iiniraated  bloom 
Dies  from  the  face,  with  squalid  atrophy 
Devoured,  in  sallow  melancholy  clad. 
And  oft  the  sorceress,  in  her  sated  wrath, 


Resigns  them  to  the  furies  of  her  train  ; 
The  bloated  Hydrops,  and  the  yellow  fiend 
Tinged  with  her  owu-accumulated  gall. 


aOPSy,     PALSY,    GOCT,     AGE 

In  quest  of  sites,  avoid  the  mournful  plain 
Where  osiers  thrive,  and  trees  that  love  the  lake  ; 
Where  many  lazy,  muddy  rivers  flow  : 
Nor,  for  the  wealth  that  all  the  Indies  roll, 
Fix  near  the  marshy  margin  of  tho  miiin. 
For  from  the  humid  soil  and  watery  reign 
Eternal  vapors  rise  ;   the  spongy  air 
Forever  weeps  ;  or,  turgid  with  the  weight 
Of  waters,  pours  a  sounding  deluge  down. 
Skies  such  as  these  let  every  mortal  shun 
Who  dreads  the  dropsy,  palsy,  or  the  gout. 
Tertian,,  corrosive  scurvy,  or  catarrh  ; 
Or  any  other  injury  that  grows 
From  raw-spun  fibres,  idle  and  unstrung. 
Skin  ill-perspiring,  and  the  purple  flood 
In  languid  eddies  loitering  into  phlegm. 


Yet  not  alone  from  humid  skies  we  pine  ; 
For  Air  may  be  too  dry.     The  subtle  heaven. 
That  winnows  into  dust  the  blasted  downs, 
Bare  and  extended  wide  without  a  stream. 
Too  fast  imbibes  the  attenuated  lymph. 
Which  by  the  surface  from  the  blood  exhales. 
The  lungs  grow  rigid,  and  with  toil  essay 
Their  flexible  vibrations  ;   or,  inflamed, 
Their  tender,  (  \ri-iiiM\  iir_^  structure  thaws. 
Spoiled  of  il-  lnii|H.i  \rln.  |.-.  the  blood 
Amassoflri-;  ntiKun.-,  ;i  .Ir.issy  tide 

That  slow  u^  Letlir  wiiinl.  i>  (liiuugh  the  veins  ; 

Unactive  in  the  services  of  life. 

Unfit  to  lead  its  pitchy  current  through 

The  secret  mazy  channels  of  the  brain. 

The  melancholic  Fieod  (that  worst  despair 

Of  physie)  hence  the  rust-complexioned  man 

Pursues,  whose  blood  is  dry,  whose  fibres  gain 

Too  stretehed  a  tone  :  and  hence,  in  climes  adust. 

So  sudden  tumults  seize  the  trembling  nerves. 

And  burning  fevers  glow  with  double  rage. 


Fly,  if  you  can,  these  violent  extremes 
Of  Air  ;   the  wholesome  is  nor  moist  nor  dry. 
But  as  the  power  of  choosing  is  denied 
To  half  mankind,  a  further  task  ensues  ; 
How  best  to  miti,L,'ate  these  fell  extremes. 
How  breatlif  iinliui  I  r,-'  v,  lilirrlii_r  clrmrnt, 
Or  hazy  atm-  :■■ ■■.!    n  .-n-h.iii  moulds 

To  every  elim.     ■     -       ■  ■:    r      '.r.  ih.  ;ni   >'i;iy  ; 

And  he  wlm  1ir-i  r!,^'  !..- -  -t  i:--r\  hn-.ithcd 
(So  kind  is  native  air),  may  in  the  feus 
Of  Essex  from  inveterate  ills  revive 
At  pure  Montpelier  or  Bermuda  caught. 


SPRING  —  APRIL. 


But  if  the  raw  and  oosy  heaven  offend, 
Correct  the  soil,  and  dry  the  sources  up 
Of  watery  exhalation  ;  wide  and  deep 
Conduct  your  trenches  through  the  quaking  bog  ; 
Solicitous,  with  all  your  winding  arts. 
Betray  the  unwilling  lake  into  the  stream  ; 
And  weed  the  forest,  and  invoke  the  winds 
To  break  the  toils  where  strangled  vapors  lie  ; 
Or  through  the  thickets  send  the  crackling  flames. 

GOOD     FntES.  —  ROAST    MEATS  ; 


Meantime  at  home  with  cheerful  fire  dispel 
The  humid  air  :  and  let  your  table  smoke 
"With  solid  roast  or  baked  ;  or  what  the  herds 
Of  tamer  breed  supply  ;  or  what  the  wilds 
Yield  to  the  toilsome  pleasures  of  the  chase. 
Generous  your  wine,  the  boast  of  ripening  years  ; 
lUit  frugal  be  your  cups  :  the  languid  frame, 
Vapid  and  sunk  from  yesterday's  debauch, 
Shrinks  from  the  cold  embrace  of  watery  heavens. 
But  neither  these,  nor  all  ApoUo'-s  arts. 
Disarm  the  dangers  of  the  dropping  sky, 
Unless  with  exercise  and  manly  toil 
You  brace  your  nerves,  and  spur  the  lagging  blood. 
The  fattening  clime  let  all  the  suns  of  ease 
Avoid  ;  if  indolence  would  wish  to  live, 
Go,  yawn  and  loiter  out  the  long  slow  year 
In  fairer  skies. 


Provokes  to  keener  toils  than  sultry  droughts 
Allow.     But  rarely  wo  such  skies  blaspheme. 


FICIAI.   POSDS  ;  SCCCCLESI  VEGETABLES  J    SOl'PS  J    BOILED 

If  droughty  regions  parch 
The  skin  and  lungs,  and  bake  the  thickening  blood ; 
Deep  in  the  waving  forest  choose  your  seat, 
Where  fuming  trees  refresh  the  thirsty  air  ; 
.And  wake  the  fountains  from  their  secret  beds, 
And  into  lakes  dilate  the  rapid  stream. 
Ilere  spread  your  gardens  wide  ;  and  let  the  cool, 
The  moist  relaxing  vegetable  store. 
Prevail  in  each  repast ;  your  food  supplied 
By  bleeding  life,  be  gently  wasted  down, 
By  soft  decoction  and  a  mellowing  heat, 
Tu  liquid  balm  ;  or,  if  the  solid  mass 
Y'ou  choose,  ti)rmented  in  the  boiling  wave  ; 
That  through  the  thirsty  channels  of  the  blood 
A  smooth,  diluted  chyle  may  ever  flow. 


The  fragrant  dairy  from  its  cold  recess 
Its  nectar,  acid  or  benign,  will  pour 
To  drown  your  thirst  ;  or  let  the  mantling  bowl 
Of  keen  sherbet  the  fickle  taste  relieve. 
For  with  the  viscous  blood  the  simple  stream 
Will  hardly  mingle  ;  and  fermented  cups 
Oft  dissipate  more  moisture  than  they  give. 
Yet  when  pale  seasons  rise,  or  winter  rolls 
Ilis  horrors  o'er  the  world,  thou  may'st  indulge 
In  feasts  more  genial,  and  impatient  broach 
The  mellow  cask.     Then  too  the  scourging  air 


Steeped  in  continual  rains,  or  with  raw  fogs 
Bedewed,  our  seasons  droop  :   incumbent  still 
A  ponderous  heaven  o'erwhelms  the  sinking  soul. 
Laboring  with  storms,  in  heapy  mountains  rise 
The  imbattled  clouds,  aa  if  the  Stygian  shades 
Had  left  the  dungeon  of  eternal  night. 
Till  black  with  thunder  all  the  south  descends. 
Scarce  in  a  showerless  day  the  heavens  indulge 
Our  melting  clime  ;  except  the  baleful  oast 
Withers  the  tender  spring,  and  sourly  checks 
The  fancy  of  the  year.     Our  fathers  talk 
Of  summers,  balmy  airs,  and  skies  serene. 
Good  Heaven  !  for  what  unexpiated  crimes 
This  dismal  change '!     The  brooding  elements. 
Do  they,  your  powerful  ministers  of  wrath, 
Prepare  some  fierce  exterminating  plague  ? 
Or  is  it  fixe<l  in  the  decrees  aliovo 
That  lofty  Albion  melt  into  the  main  ? 
Indulgent  Xature  !     0  dissolve  this  gloom  ; 
Bind  in  eternal  adamant  the  winds 
That  drown  or  wither  :  give  the  genial  west 
To  breathe,  and,  in  its  turn,  the  sprightly  north  : 
And  may  once  more  the  circling  seasons  rule 
The  year  ;  not  mix  in  every  monstrous  day. 


Meantime,  the  moist  malignity  to  shun 
Of  burthened  skies,  mark  where  the  dry  champaig 
Swells  into  cheerful  hills  ;  where  marjoram 
And  thyme,  the  love  of  bees,  perfume  the  air  ; 
And  where  the  cynorrhodon  '  with  the  rose 
For  fragrance  vies  ;  for  in  the  thirsty  soil 
Most  fragrant  breathe  the  aromatic  tribes. 
There  bid  thy  roofs  high  on  the  basking  steep 
Ascend  ;  there  light  thy  hospitable  fires  ; 
And  let  them  see  the  winter  morn  arise. 
The  summer  evening  blushing  in  the  west  ; 
^^Tiile  with  umbrageous  oaks  the  ridge  behind 
O'erhung,  defends  you  from  the  blustering  north. 
And  bleak  aflliction  of  the  peevish  cast. 
Oh  !  when  the  growling  winds  contend,  and  all 
The  sounding  forest  fluctuates  in  the  storm  — 
To  sink  in  warm  repose,  and  hear  the  din 
Howl  o'er  the  steady  battlements,  delights 
Above  the  luxury  of  common  sleep. 


The  murmuring  ri™lct,  and  the  hoarser  strain 
Of  waters  rushing  o'er  the  slippery  rocks. 
Will  nightly  lull  you  to  ambrosial  rest. 
To  please  the  fancy  is  no  trifling  good. 
Where  health  is  studied  ;  for  whatever  moves 
The  mind  with  calm  delight,  promotes  the  just 
And  natural  movements  of  the  harmonious  frame. 


t  which  grows  on  the  common  t 


'  The  wild  rose,  or  t 


RURAL    POETRY.  ARMSTRONG. 


Besides,  the  sportive  brook  forever  shalies 
The  trembling  air,  that  floats  from  hill  to  hill. 
From  vale  to  mountain,  with  incessant  change 
Of  purest  element,  refreshing  still 
Your  airy  seat,  and  uninfected  gods. 
Chiefly  for  this  I  praise  the  man  who  builds 
High  on  the  breezy  ridge,  whose  lofty  sides 
The  ethereal  deep  with  endless  billows  chafes. 
His  purer  mansion  nor  contagious  years 
Shall  reach,  nor  deadly  putrid  airs  annoy. 

THE  HOUSE  SHODLD  BE  DBT.  —  EPSOM  ;   THE  LEE  ;   CHEI 


But  may  not  fogs,  from  lake  or  fenny  plain. 
Involve  my  hill !     And  wheresoe'er  you  build. 
Whether  on  sunburnt  Epsom,  or  the  plains 
Washed  by  the  silent  Lee  ;  in  Chelsea  low. 
Or  high  Blackheath  with  wintry  winds  assailed  ; 
Dry  be  your  house  :  but  airy  more  than  warm. 
Else  every  breath  of  ruder  wind  will  strike 
Your  tender  body  through  with  rapid  pains  ; 
Fierce  coughs  will  tease  you,  hoarseness  bind  your 
Or  moist  gravedo  load  your  aching  brows.       [voice, 
These  to  defy,  and  all  the  fates  that  dwell 
In  cloistered  air,  tainted  with  steaming  life, 
Let  lofty  ceilings  grace  your  ample  rooms  ; 


And  still  at  azure  noontide  may  your  dome 
At  every  window  drink  the  liquid  sky. 

A     SOUTHERN     ASPECT    RECOMMENDED.  ■ —  DEEP    VALLEYS. 
SUNLIGHT   REQnsiTE  TO    VEGETABLE  AND  ANIMAL   HEAL' 

Need  we  the  sunny  situation  here, 
And  theatres  open  to  the  south  commend  ; 
Here,  where  the  morning's  misty  breath  infests 
More  than  the  torrid  noon  ?     How  sickly  grow. 
How  pale,  the  plants  in  those  ill-fated  vales 
That,  circled  round  with  the  gigantic  heap 
Of  mountains,  never  felt,  nor  ever  hope 
To  feel,  the  genial  vigor  of  the  sun  ! 
While  on  the  neighboring  hill  the  rose  inflames 
The  verdant  spring  ;   in  verdant  beauty  blows 
The  tender  lily,  languishingly  sweet ; 
O'er  every  hedge  the  wanton  woodbine  roves, 
And  autumn  ripens  in  the  summer's  ray. 
Nor  less  the  warmer  living  tribes  demand 
The  fostering  sun  ;  whose  energy  divine 
Dwells  not  in  mortal  fire  ;  whose  generous  heat 
Glows  through  the  mass  of  grosser  elements. 
And  kindles  into  life  the  ponderous  spheres. 
Cheered  by  thy  fond,  invigorating  warmth, 
We  court  thy  beams,  great  majesty  of  day  ! 
If  not  the  soul,  the  regent  of  this  world, 
First-born  of  heaven,  and  only  less  than  God  ! 


n 


'iliiral    (Oiits   for   3.pc 


MRS.  BARBAULD'S   "SPRING." 


Sweet  daughter  of  a  rough  and  stormy  sire, 
Hoar  Winter's  blooming  child,  delightful  Spring  ! 

M'hose  unshorn  locks  with  leaves 

And  swelling  buds  are  crowned  ; 
From  the  green  islands  of  eternal  youth       [shade), 
(Crowned  with  fresh  blooms,   and   ever   springing 

Turn,  hither  turn  thy  step, 

0  thou,  whose  powerful  voice. 
More  sweet  than  softest  touch  of  Doric  reed, 
Or  Lydian  flute,  can  soothe  the  madding  winds, 

And  through  the  stormy  deep 

Breathe  thy  own  tender  calm. 
Thee,  best  beloved  !  the  virgin  train  await 
With  songs  and  festal  rites,  and  joy  to  rove 

Thy  blooming  wilds  among. 

And  vales  and  dewy  lawns, 
With  untircd  feet ;  and  cull  thy  earliest  sweets 
To  weave  fresh  garlands  for  the  glowing  brow 

Of  him,  the  favored  youth 

That  prompts  their  whispered  sigh. 
Unlock  thy  copious  stores  ;  those  tender  showers 
That  drop  their  sweetness  on  the  infant  buds. 

And  silent  dews  that  swell 

The  milky  ear's  green  stem. 

And  feed  the  flowering  osier's  early  shoots  ; 
And  call  those  winds,  which  through  the  whispering 
With  warm  and  pleasant  breath     [boughs, 

Salute  the  blowing  flowers. 
Now  let  me  sit  beneath  the  whitening  thorn. 
And  mark  thy  spreading  tints  steal  o'er  the  dale  ; 

And  wuteh  with  patient  eye 

Thy  fair  unfolding  charms. 
0  nymph,  approach  !  while  yet  the  temperate  sun. 
With  bashful  forehead,  through  the  cool  moist  air. 

Throws  his  young  maiden  beams, 

And  with  chaste  kisses  woos 
The  earth's  fair  bosom  ;  while  the  streaming  veil 
Of  lucid  clouds,  with  kind  and  frequent  shade. 

Protects  thy  modest  blooms 

From  his  severer  blaze. 
Sweet  is  thy  reign,  but  short :  the  red  dog-star 
Shall  scorch  thy  tresses,  and  the  mower's  scythe 

Thy  greens,  thy  flowerets  all. 

Remorseless  shall  destroy. 


Keluetant  shall  I  bid  thee  then  farewell  ; 
For,  0  !  not  all  that  Autumn's  lap  contains, 

Nor  Summer's  ruddiest  fruits. 

Can  aught  for  thee  atone. 
Fair  Spring  !  whose  simplest  promise  more  delights 
Than  all  their  largest  wealth,  und  through  the  heart 

Each  joy  and  ncw-bora  hope 

With  softest  influence  breathes. 


LONGFELLOW'S  "APRIL  DAY." 
All  day  the  low-hung  clouds  have  dropt 

Their  garnered  fulness  down  ; 
All  day  that  soa,  gray  mist  hath  wrapt 

Hill,  valley,  grove,  and  town. 
There  ha.s  not  been  a  sound  to-day 

To  break  the  calm  of  nature  ; 
Nor  motion,  I  might  almost  say, 

Of  life,  or  living  creature  ;  — 
Of  waving  bough,  or  warbling  bird. 

Or  cattle  faintly  lowinf; ;  — 


Small  drops,  but  thit-k  and  fa.^^t  they  fell, 

Down  straight  into  the  ground. 
For  leafy  thickness  is  not  yet 

Earth's  naked  breast  to  screen. 
Though  every  dripping  branch  is  set 

With  shoots  of  tender  green. 
Sure,  since  I  looked  at  early  morn. 

Those  honeysuckle  buds 
Have  swelled  to  double  growth  ;  that  thorn 

Hath  put  forth  larger  studs. 
That  lilac's  cleaving  cones  have  burst. 

The  milk-white  flowers  revealing  ; 
Even  now,  upon  my  senses  first 

Methinks  their  sweets  are  stealing. 
The  very  earth,  the  steamy  air. 

Is  all  with  fragrance  rife  ; 
And  grace  and  beauty  everywhere 

Are  flushing  into  life. 
Down,  down  they  come  —  those  fruitful  stores 

Those  earth-rejoicing  drops  ! 
A  momentary  deluge  pours. 

Then  thins,  decreases,  stops. 
And  ere  the  dimples  on  the  stream 

Have  circled  out  of  sight, 
Lo  !  from  the  west,  a  parting  gleam 
Breaks  forth  of  amber  light.    *    • 


RURAL  POETRY. 


PERCIVAL  —  MRS.    HEMANS  —  LONGFELLOW. 


MRS.  HEMANS'S  "VOICE  OF  SPRING." 

I  COME,  I  come  !  ye  have  called  me  long, 

I  come  o'er  the  mountains  with  light  and  song  ; 

Ye  may  trace  my  step  o'er  the  wakening  earth, 

By  the  winds  which  tell  of  the  violet's  birth. 

By  the  primrose  stars  in  the  shadowy  grass. 

By  the  green  leaves  opening  as  I  pass. 

I  have  breathed  on  the  south,  and  the  chestnut-flowers 

By  thousands  have  burst  from  the  forest-bowers  : 

And  the  ancient  graves,  and  the  fallen  fanes. 

Are  veiled  with  wreaths  on  Italian  plains. 

But  it  is  not  for  me,  in  my  hour  of  bloom. 

To  speak  of  the  ruin  or  the  tomb  ! 

I  have  passed  o'er  the  hills  of  the  stormy  north. 

And  the  larch  has  hung  all  his  tassels  forth. 

The  fisher  is  out  on  the  sunny  sea. 

And  the  reindeer  bounds  through  the  pasture  free  ; 

And  the  pine  has  a  fringe  of  softer  green, 

And  the  moss  looks  bright  where  my  step  has  been. 

I  have  sent  through  the  wood-paths  a  gentle  sigh. 

And  called  out  each  voice  of  the  deep-blue  sky. 

From  the  night-bird's  lay  through  the  starry  time, 

In  the  groves  of  the  soft  Hesperian  clime, 

To  the  swan's  wild  note  by  the  Iceland  lakes. 

When  the  dark  fir-bough  into  verdure  breaks. 

From  the  streams  and  founts  I  have  loosed  the  chain ; 

They  are  sweeping  on  to  the  silvery  main. 

They  are  flashing  down  from  the  mountain  brows. 

They  are  flinging  spray  on  the  forest  boughs. 

They  are  bursting  fresh  from  their  sparry  caves, 

And  the  earth  resounds  with  the  joy  of  waves. 

Come  forth,  0  ye  children  of  gladness,  come  ! 
Where  the  violets  lie  may  now  be  your  home. 
Ye  of  the  rose-eheek  and  dew-bright  eye, 
And  the  bounding  footstep,  to  meet  me  fly  ; 
With  the  lyre,  and  the  wreath,  and  the  joyous  lay, 
Come  forth  to  the  sunshine,  I  may  not  stay. 


Away  from  the  dwellings  of  c 
The  waters  are  sparkling  in  wood  and  glen  ; 
Away  from  the  chamber  and  dusky  hearth, 
The  young  leaves  are  dancing  in  breezy  mirth  ; 
Their  light  stems  thrill  to  the  wild-wood  strains. 
And  Y'outh  is  abroad  in  my  green  domains. 

The  summer  is  hastening,  on  soft  winds  borne  ; 
Ye  may  press  the  grape,  ye  may  bind  the  corn  ; 
For  me,  I  depart  to  a  brighter  shore  — 
Ye  are  marked  by  care,  ye  are  mine  no  more. 
I  go  where  the  loved  who  have  left  you  dwell, 
And  the  flowers  are  not  Death's  — fare   ye  w 
farewell ! 


Spirit  of  Beauty  !  the  air  is  bright 

With  the  boundless  flow  of  thy  mellow  light ; 

The  woods  are  ready  to  bud  and  bloom. 

And  are  weaving  fpr  Summer  their  quiet  gloom  ; 

The  tufted  brook  reflects,  as  it  flows, 

The  tips  of  the  half-unopened  rose  ; 

And  the  early  bird,  as  he  carols  free, 

Sings  to  his  little  love  and  thee. 

See  how  the  clouds,  as  they  fleetly  pass. 

Throw  their  shadowy  veil  on  the  darkening  grass  ; 

And  the  pattering  showers  and  stealing  dews, 

^Vith  their  starry  gems  and  skyey  hues. 

From  the  oozy  meadow,  that  drinks  the  tide. 

To  the  sheltered  vale  on  the  mountain  side. 

Wake  to  a  new  and  fresher  birth 

The  tenderest  tribes  of  teeming  earth. 

And  scatter  with  light  and  dallying  play 

Their  earliest  flowers  on  the  Zephyr's  way. 

He  comes  from  the  mountain's  piny  steep. 

For  the  long  boughs  bend  with  a  silent  sweep, 

And  his  rapid  steps  have  hurried  o'er 

The  grassy  hills  to  the  pebbly  shore  ; 

And  now,  on  the  breast  of  the  lonely  lake. 

The  waves  in  silvery  glances  break. 

Like  a  short  and  quickly  rolling  sea, 

When  the  gale  first  feels  its  liberty. 

And  the  flakes  of  foam,  like  coursers,  run. 

Rejoicing  beneath  the  vertical  sun. 

He  has  crossed  the  lake,  and  the  forest  heaves. 
To  the  sway  of  his  wings,  its  billowy  leaves. 
And  the  downy  tufts  of  the  meadow  fly 
In  snowy  clouds,  as  he  passes  by, 
And  softly  beneath  his  noiseless  tread 
The  odorous  spring-grass  bends  its  head  ; 
And  now  he  reaches  the  woven  bower. 

And  gladly  his  wearied  limbs  repose. 
In  the  shade  of  the  newly-opening  rose. 


PERCIVAL'S  "SPRING." 

AG4IN  the  infant  flowers  of  Spring 

Call  thee  to  sport  on  thy  rainbow  wing  — 


LONGFELLOW'S   "APRa." 

When  the  warm  sun,  that  brings 
Seed-time  and  harvest,  has  returned  again, 
'T  is  sweet  to  visit  the  still  wood,  where  springs 

The  first  flower  of  the  plain. 

I  love  the  season  well 
When  forest  glades  are  teeming  with  bright  forms. 
Nor  dark  and  many-folded  clouds  foretell 

The  coming-in  of  storms. 

From  the  earth's  loosened  mould 
The  sapling  draws  its  sustenance,  and  thrives  : 
Though  stricken  to  the  heart  with  winter's  cold. 

The  drooping  tree  revives. 


SPRING  —  APRIL. 


53 


The  aoftly-warbled  song 
Comes  through  the  pleasant  woods,  and  colored  \ 
Are  glancing  in  the  golden  sun  along 

The  forest  c 


And  when  bright  sunset  fills 
The  silver  woods  with  light,  the  green  slope  throws 
Its  shadows  in  the  hollows  of  tho  hills, 

And  wide  the  upland  glows. 

And  when  the  day  is  gone. 
In  the  blue  lake  the  sky  o'erreaching  far 
Is  hollowed  out,  and  the  moon  dips  her  horn, 

And  twinkles  many  a  sUir. 

Inverted  in  the  tide 
Stand  the  gray  rocks,  and  trembling  shadows  throw. 
And  the  fair  trees  look  over,  side  by  side, 

And  see  themselves  below. 

Sweet  April !  —  many  a  thought 
Is  wedded  uuto  thee,  as  hearts  are  wed  ; 
Nor  shall  they  fail,  till  to  its  autumn  brought 

Life's  golden  fruit  is  shed. 


CLARE'S   "SPRING  MUSINGS" 

OF  THE   PEASANT   POET. 
0  I  WHO  can  speak  his  joys  when  spring's  young 

From  wood  and  pasture,  opened  on  his  view  ! 
When  tender  green  buds  blush  upon  the  thorn, 
And  the  first  primrose  dips  its  leaves  in  dew  : 
Each  varied  charm  how  joyed  would  he  pursue. 
Tempted  to  trace  their  beauties  through  the  day  ; 
Gray-girdled  eve  and  morn  of  rosy  hue 
Have  both  beheld  him  on  his  lonely  way, 

Far,  far  remote  from  boys,  and  their  unpleasing  i)lay. 
Sequestered  nature  was  his  heart's  delight ; 
Him  would  she  lead  through  wood  and  lonely  plain. 
Searching  tho  pooty  from  the  rushy  dike  ; 
And  while  the  thrush  sang  her  long-silenced  strain, 
lie  thought  it  sweet,  and  mocked  it  o'er  again  ; 
And  while  he  plucked  the  primrose  in  its  pride, 
He  pondered  o'er  its  bloom  'tween  joy  aud  pain  ; 
And  a  rude  sonnet  in  its  praise  he  tried, 

Where  nature's  simple  way  the  aid  of  art  supplied. 
The  freshened  landscapes  round  his  routes  unfurled, 
The  fire-tinged  clouds  above,  tho  woods  below, 
Each  met  his  eye  a  new-revealing  world. 
Delighting  more  as  more  ho  learned  to  know  ; 
Each  journey  sweeter,  musing  to  and  fro. 
Surrounded  thus,  nut  Paradise  more  sweet ; 
Enthusiasm  made  his  soul  to  glow  ; 
His  heart  with  wild  sensations  used  to  beat ; 

As  nature  seemly  sang,  his  mutterings  would  repeat. 
Upon  a  molehill  oft  ho  dropped  him  down, 
To  take  a  prospect  of  the  circling  scene. 
Marking  how  much  the  cottage  roof's  thatch  brown 
Did  add  its  beauty  to  the  budding  green 
Of  sheltering  trees  it  humbly  peeped  between  ; 


The  stone-rooked  wagon  with  its  rumbling  sound  ; 
The  windmill's  sweeping  sails  at  distance  seen  ; 
And  every  form  that  crowds  tho  circling  round, 

Where  the  sky,  stooping,  seems  to  kiss  the  meeting 
ground. 
And  dear  to  him  tho  rural  sports  of  May, 
When  each  cot-threshold  mounts  its  hailing  bough. 
And  ruddy  milkmaids  weave  their  garlands  gay. 
Upon  the  green  to  crown  the  earliest  cow  ; 
M'heu  mirth  and  pleasure  wear  a  joyful  brow  ; 
And  join  the  tumult,  with  imbounded  glee, 
The  humble  tenants  of  tho  pail  and  plough  : 
He  loved  '  old  sports,'  by  them  revived,  to  sec, 

But  never  cared  to  join  in  their  rude  revelry. 
O'er  brook-bank?  stretching,  on  the  pn«ture-sward 

Ho  gazed,  far  .-lit  mt  tVi.ni  tlir  i-.-nnrl  ,t.  w  ; 

'TwasbutllM  li  I.  M    i;  .:    :  ,:■,,.  I  ,    '■    '^  i.-.^ard  ; 
'Twashis— 111    |..  -  1   .     '.,,;,  1     ;,  i,.   •,.■  — 
Wild  blos.<..T.i-  .  ,..  1  .,,,  Ill  111-    -III  -  I  .  ih'iv. 
Scarce  peeping  op  llir  liny  bent  iis  liigh, 
Betingcd  with  glossy  yellow,  red,  or  blue, 
Unnamed,  unnnticprl  hut  by  Lubin's  eye,         [die. 


Tha 


When  ll.r  -ih   r,,.|    mm  il-  lin   , I;, ,, ,,:,., 1  i|;„v„, 
And  the  giiy  w.i.Hlliiik  hns  its  nest  resigned, 
As  slow  the  sun  creeps  up  the  hill  behind  ; 
Morn  reddening  round,  and  daylight's  spotless  hue. 
As  seemingly  with  rose  and  lily  lined  ; 
While  all  the  prospect  round  beams  fair  to  view. 

Like  a  sweet  opening  flower  with  its  unsullied  dew  ! 
Ah  !  often  brushing  through  the  dripping  grass. 
Has  he  been  seen  to  catch  this  early  charm, 
Listening  the  '  love-song '  of  the  healthy  lass 
Passing  with  milk-pail  on  her  well-turned  arm  ; 
Or  meeting  objects  from  the  rousing  farm  — 
The  jingling  plough-teams  driving  down  the  steep, 
Wagon  aud  cart ;  and  shepherd-dogs'  alarm. 
Raising  the  bleatings  of  unfolding  sheep, 

As  o'er  the  mountain  top  the  red  sun  'gins  to  peep. 
Nor  could  the  day's  decline  escape  his  gaze  ; 
He  loved  the  closing  as  tho  rising  day. 
And  oft  would  stand  to  oatcb  the  setting  rays, 
W'hose  last  beams  stole  not  unpercelved  away  ; 
When,  hesitating  like  a  stag  at  bay. 
The  bright,  unwearied  sun  seeineil  loath  t«»  drop, 

Till  chaos"  night-hounds  liuni.  ,1  hi «ay. 

And  drove  him  headlnii;:  i tlii   iii.iiui.iin  top, 

.And  shut  the  lovely  scene i  l..iii'  iill  iMiure  stop. 

With  contemplation's  st^ires  liis  mind  to  lill, 
0  doubly  happy  would  he  roam  as  then, 
When  the  blue  eve  crept  deeper  round  the  hill, 
While  the  coy  rabbit  ventured  from  his  den. 
And  weary  labor  sought  his  rest  again  ; 
Lone  wanderings  led  him  haply  by  the  stream, 
Where  unperceived  ho  'joyed  his  hours  at  will, 
Musing  the  cricket  twittering  o'er  its  dream, 

Or  watching  o'er  the  brook  the  moonlight's  dancing 


RURAL    POETRY. — T.  WARTON. 


WARTON'S   "APRIL.'' 

With  dalliance  rude  young  Zephyr  woos 
Coy  May.     Full  oft  with  kind  excuse 
The  boist'rous  boy  the  fair  denies, 
Or  with  a  scornful  smile  complies. 

Mindful  of  disaster  past, 
And  shrinking  at  the  northern  blast, 
The  sleety  storm  returning  still. 
The  morning  hoar  and  evening  chill  ; 
Reluctant  comes  the  timid  Spring. 
Scarce  a  bee,  with  airy  ring. 
Murmurs  the  blossomed  boughs  around, 
That  clothe  the  garden's  southern  bound  : 
Scarce  a  sickly,  straggling  flower 
Decks  the  rough  castle's  rifted  tower  : 
Scarce  the  hardy  primrose  peeps 
From  the  dark  dell's  entangled  steeps  : 
O'er  the  field  of  waving  broom 
Slowly  shoots  the  golden  bloom  : 
And,  but  by  fits,  the  furze-clad  dale 
Tinctures  the  transitory  gale  ; 
AVhile  from  the  shrubb'ry's  naked  maze, 
Where  the  vegetable  blaze 
Of  Flora's  brightest  'broidery  shone, 
Every  checkered  charm  is  flown  ; 
Save  that  the  lilac  hangs  to  view 
Its  bursting  gems  in  clusters  blue. 

Scant  along  the  ridgy  land 
The  beans  their  new-born  ranks  expand  : 
The  fresh-turned  soil  with  tender  blades 
Thinly  the  sprouting  barley  shades  : 
Fringing  the  forest's  devious  edge, 
Half-robed  appears  the  hawthorn  hedge  ; 
Or  to  the  distant  eye  displays 
.Weakly  green  its  budding  sprays. 

The  swallow,  for  a  moment  seen. 
Skims  in  haste  the  village  green  : 
From  the  gray  moor,  on  feeble  wing, 
The  screaming  plovers  idly  spring  : 
The  butterfly,  gay-painted,  soon 
Explores  a  while  the  tepid  noon, 
And  fundly  trusts  its  tender  dyes 
To  fickle  suns  and  flatt'ring  skies. 

Fraught  with  a  transient,  frozen  shower, 
If  a  cloud  should  haply  lower, 
Sailing  o'er  the  landscape  dark. 
Mute  on  a  sudden  is  the  lark  ; 
But  when  gleams  the  sun  again 
O'er  the  pearl-besprinkled  plain. 
And  from  behind  his  watery  veil 
Looks  through  the  thin-descending  hail, 
She  mounts,  and,  lessening  to  the  sight, 
Salutes  the  blithe  return  of  light. 


And  high  her  tuneful  track  pursues 
Mid  the  dim  laiinbow's  scattered  hues. 

Where,  in  venerable  rows. 
Widely  waving  oaks  enclose 
The  moat  of  yonder  antique  hall, 
Swarm  the  rooks  with  clam'rous  call  ; 
And,  to  the  toils  of  nature  true, 
Wreath  their  capacious  nests  anew. 

Musing  through  the  lawny  park. 
The  lonely  poet  loves  to  mark 
How  various  greens  in  faint  degrees 
Tinge  the  tall  groups  of  various  trees  : 
AA'hile,  careless  of  the  changing  year, 
The  pine  cerulean,  never  sere. 
Towers  distinguished  from  the  rest. 
And  proudly  vaunts  her  winter  vest. 

Within  some  whispering,  osier  isle. 
Where  Glym's  low  banks  neglected  smile  ; 
And  each  trim  meadow  still  retains 
The  wintry  torrent's  oozy  stains  : 
Beneath  a  willow  long  forsook. 
The  fisher  seeks  his  customed  nook  ; 
And,  bursting  through  the  crackling  sedge, 
That  crowns  the  current's  caverned  edge. 
He  startles  from  the  bordering  wood 
The  bashful  wild-duck's  early  brood. 

O'er  the  broad  downs,  a  novel  race, 
Frisk  the  lambs,  with  faltering  pace, 
And  with  eager  bleatings  fill 
The  foss  that  skirts  the  beaconed  hill. 

His  freeborn  vigor  yet  unbroke 
To  lordly  man's  usurping  yoke. 
The  bounding  colt  forgets  to  play, 
Basking  beneath  the  noontide  ray, 
And  stretched  among  the  daisies,  pride 
Of  a  green  dingle's  sloping  side  ; 
While  far  beneath,  where  Nature  spreads 
Her  boundless  length  of  level  meads, 
In  loose  luxuriance  taught  to  stray, 
A  thousand  tumbling  rills  inlay 
With  silver  veins  the  vale,  or  pass 
Redundant  through  the  sparkling  grass. 

Yet  in  these  presages  rude, 
Midst  her  pensive  solitude, 
Fancy,  with  prophetic  glance, 
Sees  the  teeming  months  advance  ; 
The  field,  the  forest,  green  and  gay. 
The  dappled  slope,  the  tedded  hay  ; 
Sees  the  reddening  orchard  blow, 
The  harvest  wave,  the  vintage  flow  ; 
Sees  June  unfold  his  glossy  robe 
Of  thousand  hues  o'er  all  the  globe  ; 
Sees  Ceres  grasp  her  crown  of  corn. 
And  plenty  load  her  ample  horn. 


ilohlcn's  "3^iu"icu(turr, 


i  -,   EXCnANOES  OP  PBOD- 


The  proposition.  —  Atldruss  to  t 


ute.'— Episode  of  the  fair  niilk-iiwi.l.  —  Tlic  rann-yard 
described.— The  pleasures  of  a  rural  life.  —  Address  to 
the  great,  to  study  agriculture.  —  An  allegory,  attempting 
to  e.\plain  the  theory  of  vegetation. 

THE  SUBJECT.  —  CULTCBB  } 


Of  culture  and  the  various  fruits  of  earth, 
[Of  social  commerce,  of  the  nobler  arts, 
Which  polish  and  adorn  the  life  uf  man  ; '] 
Objects  demanding  the  supreme  ref;ard 
Of  that  exalted  monarch  who  sustains 
The  sceptre  of  command  o'er  Britain's  sons  ; 
The  muse,  disdaining  idle  themes,  attempts 
To  sing.     0  thou,  Britannia's  rising  hope  ! 
The  favorite  of  her  wishes  !     Thou,  0  prince  ! 
On  whom  her  fondest  expectations  wait, 
Accept  the  verse  :  and,  to  the  humblest  voice 
That  sings  of  public  virtue,  lend  an  ear. 

INVOCATION  TO  THE  GESlt^   OF   BRITAIN. 

Genius  of  Britjvin  !  pure  intelligence  ! 
Guardian,  appointed  by  the  One  Supreme, 
With  influential  energy  benign 
To  guide  the  weal  of  this  distinguished  isle  ; 
0,  wake  the  brca.-it  of  her  aspiring  son  ! 
Inform  his  numbers,  aid  his  bold  design. 
Who,  in  a  daring  flight,  presumes  to  mark 
The  glorious  track  her  monarch  should  pursue. 

LABOR  THE  SOCHCB    OF  WEALTH  ;    AND   THE  LABORER  COM- 
MENDED TO  COVEBNMESTAL  CARE. 

From  cultivation,  from  the  useful  toils 
Of  the  laborious  hind,  the  streams  of  wealth 
And  plenty  flow.     Deign,  then,  illustrious  youth  ! 
To  bring  the  observing  eye,  the  liberal  hand. 
And  with  a  spirit  congenial  to  your  birth. 
Regard  his  various  labors  through  the  year  : 
So  shall  the  laborer  smile,  and  you  improve 
The  happy  country  you  are  born  to  rule. 

WINTER  ;  THE  TIME  TO  CHOOSE  A  FARM. 

The  year  declining,  now  hath  left  the  fields 
Divested  of  their  honors,  the  strong  glebe 

I  The  author's  original  design  was  to  have  written  a  poem 
entitled  '  Public  Virtue,'  in  three  books  :  1st,  Agriculture  -, 
2d,  Commerce  ;  3d,  Arts.  The  first  book  was  all  that  he 
ever  executed. 


Exli:ni.l.  1,  «,i;i-  tlif  pulture  of  the  plough, 
T,i  r.  I  'i   I   I    "■  '-      'T  is  now,  intent 

On  li  Hit i,. us  husbandman 

Sur\.\     ilr      .iii!i%   i..und,  solicitous 
To  fix  his  habitation  on  a  soil 
Propitious  to  his  hopes  and  to  his  cares. 

LANDHOLDERS  EXHORTED    TO    D 


0  ye,  whom  fortune  in  her  silken  robe 
Enwraps  benign  ;  whom  plenty's  bounteous  hand 
Hath  favored  with  distinction  !     0  look  down. 
With  smiles  indulgent,  on  his  new  designs  ! 
Assist  his  useful  works,  facilitate 
His  honest  aims  :  nor  in  exaction's  gripe 
Enthral  the  endeavoring  swain.    Think  not  his  toils 
Were  meant  alone  to  foster  you  in  case 
And  pampered  indolenn.-  ;  nnr  grudge  the  meed 
Which  Heaven  m  nui.x   _u^-  to  .-liecr  the  hand, 
The  laboring  li  i     i         i       ..       In-try. 
Be  yours  the  )■  _    '     i  -iitent ; 

With  bounteous  IIl.i.lu  c.ui  unite,  and  reward 
The  poor  man's  toil,  whence  all  your  riches  spring. 
As  in  a  garden,  the  enlivening  air 
Is  filled  with  odors,  drawn  from  those  fair  flowers 
Which  by  its  influence  rise  ;  so  in  his  breast 
Benevolent,  who  gives  the  swains  to  thrive, 
Reflected  live  the  joys  his  virtues  lent. 


But  come,  young  farmer,  though  by  fortune  fi.xed 
On  fields  luxuriant,  where  the  fruitful  soil 
Gives  labor  hope  ;  where  sheltering  shades  arise. 
Thick  fences  guard,  and  bubbling  fountains  flow  ; 
Where  arable  and  pasture  duly  mix  ; 
Yet,  ere  thy  toils  begin,  attend  the  muse. 
And  catch  the  moral  lessons  of  her  song. 
Be  frugal  and  be  blest ;  frugality 
Will  give  thee  competence  ;  thy  gains  ate  small, 
Too  small  to  bear  profusion's  wasteful  hand. 
Make  temperance  thy  companion,  so  shall  health 
Sit  on  thy  brow,  invigorating  thy  frame 
To  every  useful  work.     And  if  to  these 
Thou  happily  shalt  join  one  virtue  more, 
The  love  of  industry,  the  glowing  joy 
Felt  from  each  new  improvement ;  then  fair  peace. 
With  modest  neatness  in  her  decent  garb. 
Shall  walk  around  thy  dwelling  ;  while  the  great, 
Tired  with  the  vast  fatigue  of  indolence. 
Filled  with  disease  by  luxury  and  sloth, 
Impatient  curse  the  dilatory  day. 
And  look  with  envy  on  thy  happier  state. 


56 


RURAL    POETRY. DODSLEY. 


farmer's  tools  ; 


Or  stroke  the  swellii 


Prepared  with  these  plain  virtues,  now  the  swain 
With  courage  enters  on  his  rural  works. 
First  he  provides  the  needful  implements. 
Of  these,  the  honored  plough  claims  chief  regard. 
Hence  bread  to  man,  who  heretofore  un  mast 
Fed  with  his  fellow-brute  in  woods  and  wilds, 
Himself  uncultured  as  the  soil  he  trod. 
The  spiked  harrow  next,  to  break  the  clods. 
And  spread  the  surface  of  the  new-ploughed  field  ; 
Nor  is  the  roller's  friendly  aid  unsought. 
Hoes  he  provides,  with  various  arms  prepared. 
To  encounter  all  the  numerous  host  of  weeds, 
Which  rise  malignant,  menacing  his  hopes. 
The  sweeping  scythe's  keen  edge  he  whets  for  grass. 
And  turns  the  crooked  sickle  for  his  corn. 
The  fork  to  spread,  the  gathering  rake  to  save, 
With  providential  care  he  treasures  up. 
His  strong,  capacious  wain  the  dull  slow  ox 
Drags  on,  deep  loaded,  grinding  the  rough  ruts  ; 
While  with  his  lighter  team,  the  sprightly  horse 
Moves  to  the  music  of  his  tinkling  bells. 
Nor  will  his  foresight  lack  the  whirling  flail. 
Whose  battering  strokes  force   from   the  loosened 

sheaves 
Their  hidden  stores  profuse  ;  which  now  demand 
The  quick  rotation  of  the  winnowing  fan, 
With  blasts  successive,  wafting  far  away 
The  worthless  chaff,  to  clear  the  golden  grain. 


And  now,  compelled  to  hire  assistant  strength, 
Away  he  hastens  to  some  neighboring  town, 
Where  willing  servitude,  for  mutual  wants 
Of  hind  and  farmer,  holds  her  annual  feast." 
'T  is  here  the  toiling  hand  of  industry 
Employment  seeks.     The  skilful  ploughman,  lord 
And  leader  of  the  rustic  band  ;  who  claims 
His  boy  attendant,  conscious  of  his  worth 
And  dignity  superior  ;  boasting  skill 
To  guide  with  steadiness  the  sliding  share. 
To  scatter  with  an  equal  hand  the  seed. 
And  with  a  master  scythe  to  head  the  train. 
When  the  ripe  meadow  asks  the  mower's  hand. 
Here,  too,  the  thresher,  brandishing  his  flail. 
Bespeaks  a  master,  whose  full  barns  demand 
A  laboring  arm,  now  ready  to  give  up 
Their  treasure,  and  exchange  their  hoarded  grain 
For  heaps  of  gold,  the  meed  of  honest  toil. 
The  sunburnt  shepherd,  too,  his  slouching  hat 
Distinguished  well  with  fleecy  locks,  expects 
Observance  ;  skilled  in  wool,  and  lessoned  deep 
In  all  diseases  of  the  bleating  flock. 
Mixed  with  the  rustic  throng,  see  ruddy  maids, 
Some  taught  with  dexterous  hand  to  twirl  the  wheel, 

1  This  is  called  in  the  country  a  '  statute,'  ani)  is  held  aonu- 
Jilly  at  most  market  towns  in  England,  where  servants  of 
all  kinds  resort  in  quest  of  places  and  employments. 


I '    !'■'  •.  -:-  'I  -I  ■■  ;■ : ■    \\  li ,,  ,1  i,.  M-r\vife's  care, 

But  now  lot  loose  to  revelry  and  sport. 

In  clamorous  mirth,  indelicate  and  rude, 

The  boisterous  swains  and  hoyden  nymphs  provoke 

Outrageous  merriment.     Yet  not  alike 

Is  every  swain,,  nor  every  sylvan  maid  ; 

As  Verulam  the  pleasing  tale  records. 

Where  Patty,  lovely  Patty,  graced  the  crowd, 

Pride  of  the  neighboring  plains. 


Who  hath  not  heard 
Of  Patty,  the  fair  milk-maid?     Beautiful 
As  an  Arcadian  nymph  ;  upon  her  brow 
Sat  virgin  modesty,  while  in  her  eyes 
Young  sensibility  began  to  play 
With  innocence.     Her  waving  locks  fell  down 
On  either  side  her  face  in  careless  curls, 
Shading  the  tender  blushes  in  her  cheek. 
Her  breath  was  sweeter  than  the  morning  gale. 
Stolen  from  the  rose  or  violet's  dewy  leaves. 
Her  ivory  teeth  appeared  in  even  rows, 
Through  lips  of  living  coral.     When  she  spoke, 
Her  features  wore  intelligence  ;  her  words 
Were  soft,  with  such  a  smile  accompanied, 
As  lighted  in  her  face  resistless  charms. 
Her  polished  neck  rose  rounding  from  her  breast 
With  pleasing  elegance  :  that  lovely  breast ! 
Ah  !  Fancy,  dwell  not  there,  lest  gay  desire, 
Who,  smiling,  hovers  o'er  the  enchanting  place. 
Tempt  thy  wild  thoughts  to  dangerous  ecstasy. 
Her  shape  was  moulded  by  the  hand  of  ease  ; 
Exact  proportion  harmonized  her  frame  ; 
While  grace,  following  her  steps,  with  secret  art 
Stole  into  all  her  motions.     Thus  .she  walked 
In  sweet  simplicity  ;  a  snow-white  pail 
Hung  on  her  arm,  the  symbol  of  her  skill 
In  that  fair  province  of  the  rural  state. 
The  dairy  ;  source  of  more  delicious  bowls 
Than  Bacchus  from  his  choicest  vintage  boasts. 


How  great  the  po 
Grew  civil  at  her  m 
Wrapt  in  astonishri, 
Whispering  her  )m:i 
As  when  fi  L^'ntl''  Im 
With  qui,  1  I  ,' 
Andhu^lii    . 


Young  Thyrsis  hearing,  turned  aside  his  head. 
And  soon  the  pleasing  wonder  caught  his  eye. 
Full  in  the  prime  of  youth,  the  joyful  heir 
Of  numerous  acres,  a  large  freehold  farm, 
Thyrsis  as  yet  from  beauty  felt  no  pain  ; 


SPRING — APRIL. 


Had  soon  no  virgin  ho  oould  wish  to  mako 
His  wodilcd  partner.     Now  his  heating  heart 
Feels  new  emotion  ;  now  his  fixed  eye, 
With  fervent  rapture  dwelling  on  her  ohnrms, 
Drinks  in  delicious  draughts  of  new-born  love. 
No  rest  the  night,  no  peace  the  following  day 
Brought  to  his  struggling  heart :  her  beauteous  form, 
Her  fair  perfections  playing  on  his  mind, 
With  pleasing  anguish  torture  him.     In  vain 
He  strives  to  tear  her  image  from  his  breast ; 
Each  little  grace,  each  dear  bewitching  look, 
Returns  triumphant,  breaking  his  resolves, 
And  binding  all  his  soul  a  slave  to  love. 

PATTV  ENAMORt^  OF  TnVBSIS  ',  THEIR  HAPPY    CSIOS. 

Ah  !  littlo  did  he  know,  a\as !  the  while 
Poor  Patty's  tender  heart,  in  mutual  pain. 
Long,  long  for  him  had  heaved  the  secret  sigh. 
For  him  she  dressed,  for  him  the  pleasing  arts 
She  studied,  and  for  him  she  wished  to  live. 
But  her  low  fortunes,  nursing  sad  despair, 
Chocked  the  ynnng  hope  ;  nor  durst  her  modest  eyes 
I    !   '      •'      ■     11  5t  glances  of  her  flame, 
'  ,  like  a  watchful  spy, 
ret,  and  with  taunts  reveal. 
II.  ^\.ct  surprise,  when  she  at  length 

Hclicia  hini,  all  irresolute,  approach, 
And,  gently  taking  her  fair  trembling  hand, 
Breathe  these  soft  words  into  her  listening  car  : 
"0,  Patty  !  deare.=t  m  ri  1.  ivh.-.   l-  tmtc-ous  form 
Dwells  in  my  brca-l         i    \,^.„-     ,,    nnl  to  love, 
Accept  my  vows  ;  a'    ■    i  ,i  ii'  ■  nil  Im  art, 
Which  from  this  h.iiu    K  It   -  n  -li   t^thee! 
Wealth  has  no  relish,  lilV  lan  give  nu  joy, 
If  you  forbid  my  hopes  to  call  you  mine." 
Ah  !  who  the  sudden  tumult  can  describe 
Of  struggling  passions  rising  in  her  breast? 
Hope,  fear,  confusion,  modesty,  and  love, 
Oppress  her  laboring  soul.     She  strove  to  speak, 
But  the  faint  accents  died  upon  her  tongue. 
Her  fears  prevented  utterance.     At  length, 
"  Can  Thyrsis  mock  my  poverty?     Can  ho 
Be  so  unkind  ?     0,  no  !  yet  I,  alas  ! 
Too  humble  e'en  to  hope.'*     No  more  she  said  ; 
But  gently,  as  if  half  unwilling,  stole 
Her  hand  from  his  ;  and,  with  sweet  modesty, 
Casting  a  look  of  diffidence  and  fear, 
To  hide  her  blushes,  silently  withdrew. 
But  Thyrsis  read,  with  rapture,  in  her  eyes 
The  language  of  her  soul.     He  followed,  wooed. 
And  won  her  for  his  wife.     His  lowing  herds 
Soon  call  her  mistress  ;  soon  their  milky  streams. 
Coagulated,  rise  in  circling  piles 
Of  hardened  curd  ;  and  all  the  dnicies  round 
To  her  sweet  butter  yield  superior  pmise. 

THE  FARM  ;     THE     POCLTRT-TARD  ;    THE  PEACOCK,  TCRKEY- 
COCK,  GEESE,  DL'CKS,  PIOEOSS. 

But  turn,  my  muse,  nor  let  the  alluring  form 
Of  beauty  lead  too  far  thy  devious  steps. 


.Seo  where  the  farmer,  with  a  master's  eye, 
Surveys  his  littlo  kingdom,  and  exults 
In  sovereign  independence.     At  a  word. 
His  feathery  subjects  in  obedience  flock 
.\round  bis  feeding  hand,  who  in  return 
Yield  a  delicious  tribute  to  his  board, 
.\nd  o'er  his  oouoh  their  downy  plumage  spread. 
The  peacock  here  expands  his  eyeful  plumes, 
A  glittering  pageant  to  the  mid-day  sun  : 
In  the  stiff  awkwardness  of  foolish  pride, 
The  swelling  turkey  apes  his  stately  step, 
And  calls  the  bristling  feathers  round  his  head. 
There  tlie  loud  herald  of  the  morning  struts 
Before  his  cackling  dames,  the  passive  slaves 
Of  his  promiscuous  plciusure.     O'er  the  pond, 
See  the  gray  gander,  with  his  female  train. 
Bending  their  lofty  necks  ;  and  gabbling  ducks, 
Rejoicing  on  the  surface,  clap  their  wings  ! 
Whilst  wheeling  round  in  airy  wanton  flights, 
The  glossy  pigeons  chase  their  sportive  loves, 
Or  in  soft  cooings  tell  their  amorous  tule. 


HAT-STACES  J 


VHEAT-STACKS  ;     WOOD- 


Here  stacks  of  hay,  there  pyramids  of  com. 
Promise  the  future  market  large  supplies  : 
While  with  an  eye  of  triumph  he  surveys 
His  piles  of  wood,  and  laughs  at  winter's  frown. 
In  silent  rumination,  seo  the  kine. 
Beneath  the  walnut's  shade  wait  patiently 
To  i"iiu  iiitn  lii-  pail-  thfir  milky  stores  ; 
Wliilr  I'lii  hiiiii  iHi-liL.r,  far  from  sight  removed. 
The  liri-tl\  lirtil  \Mihiu  t heir  fattening  styes, 
Reiuiud  him  tu  iMiijaic,  in  many  a  row. 
The  gayly-bloomiug  pea,  the  fragrant  bean, 
And  broad-leaved  cabbage  for  the  ploughman's  feast. 


These  his  amusements,  his  employments  these  ; 
Which  still  arising  in  successive  change, 
Give  to  each  varied  hour  a  new  delight. 
Peace  and  Contentment  with  their  guardian  wings 
Enclose  his  nightly  slumbers.     Rosy  health. 
When  the  gay  lark's  sweet  matin  wakes  the  morn, 
Treads  in  his  dewy  footsteps  round  the  field  ; 
And  cheerfulness  attends  his  closing  day. 
No  racking  jealousy,  nor  sullen  halo. 
Nor  fear,  nor  envy,  discompose  his  breast. 

TUB   FARMBB'S  E.SEMIES  ;    TOE    FOX,   BADGER,   KITE,   .STOTS 
WEASEL,  PARTRmGE,  HARE,  OTTER,  MOLE  J   SPORTING. 

His  only  enemies  the  prowling  fox. 
Whoso  nightly  murders  thin  the  bleating  fold  ; 
The  hardy  badger,  the  rapacious  kite. 
With  eye  malignant  on  the  little  brood, 
Sailing  around  portentous  ;  the  rank  stoCc 
Thirsting,  ah,  savage  thirst !  for  harmless  blood  ; 
The  corn-devouring  partridge  ;  tim'rous  hare  ; 
The  amphibious  otter  bold  ;  the  wea.scl  sly. 
Pilfering  the  yolk  from  its  enclosing  shell ; 


RURAL    POETRY. 


And  moles,  a  dirty,  underminiug  race. 
These  all  his  foes,  and  these,  alas  !  compared 
With  man  to  man,  an  inotfensive  train. 
'Gainst  these,  assisted  by  th'  entangling  net. 
The  explosive  thunder  of  the  levelled  tube, 
Or  toils  unwearied  of  his  social  friend. 
The  faithful  dog,  he  wages  rural  war  ; 
And  health  and  pleasure  in  the  sportive  fields 
Obtaining,  he  forgives  their  venial  crimes. 


0,  happy  he  !  happiest  of  mortal  men  ! 
Who  far  removed  from  slav'ry  as  from  pride. 
Fears  no  man's  frown,  nor  cringing  waits  to  catch 
The  gracious  nothing  of  a  great  man's  nod  : 
Where  the  laced  beggar  bustles  for  a  bribe, 
The  purchase  of  his  honor  ;  where  deceit. 
And  fraud,  and  circumvention,  drest  in  smiles. 
Hold  shameful  commerce  ;  and  beneath  the  mask 
Of  friendship  and  sincerity,  betray. 


Him,  nor  the  stately  mansion's  gilded  pride, 
Rich  with  whate'er  the  imitative  arts, 
Painting  or  sculpture,  yield  to  charm  the  eye  ; 
Nor  shining  heaps  of  massy  plate,  enwrought 
With  curious  costly  workmanship,  allure. 
Tempted  nor  with  the  pride  nor  pomp  of  power. 
Nor  pageants  of  ambition,  nor  the  mines 
Of  grasping  avarice,  nor  the  poisoned  sweets 
Of  pampered  luxury,  he  plants  his  foot 
With  firmness  on  his  old  paternal  fields, 
And  stands  unshaken. 

THE  farmer's   homestead    DESCRIBED. 

There  sweet  prospects  rise 
Of  meadows  smiling  in  their  flowery  pride, 
Green  hills  and  dales,  and  cottages  embowered. 
The  scenes  of  innocence  and  calm  delight. 
There  the  wild  melody  of  warbling  birds. 
And  cool  refreshing  groves,  and  murmuring  springs. 
Invite  to  sacred  thought,  and  lift  the  mind 
From  low  pursuits,  to  meditate  the  God  ! 

THE   WEALTHY   INVITED    TO    BECOME  AGRICtTLTURISTS. — THE 

Turn  then,  at  length,  0  turn,  ye  sons  of  wealth. 
And  ye  who  seek  through  life's  bewildering  maze. 
To  tread  the  paths  of  happiness,  0  turn  ! 
And  trace  her  footsteps  in  the  rural  walk  ; 
In  those  fair  scenes  of  wonder  and  delight, 
Where,  to  the  human  eye.  Omnipotence 
Unfolds  the  niip  nf  iintiirr,  nnd  displays 
Thematchb'^-  l..;M,iy  ..!'  ri,;,ir,l  things. 
Turn  to  the  :iii-,  ili<   n- ml  |ilr;ising  arts 

Of  cultivation  ;   I  these  lirMs  improve 

Your  erring  fatiiers  have  too  long  desjused. 
Leave  not  to  ignorance  and  low-bred  hinds 
That  noblest  science,  which  in  ancient  tiuio 


The  mind  of  sages  and  of  kings  employed, 

Solicitous  to  learn  the  ways  of  God, 

And  read  his  worksin  agriculture's  school. 

THE  PmLOSOPHT   OF  VEGETATION. 

Then  hear  the  muse,  now  ent'ring,  hand  in  band 
With  sweet  Philosophy,  the  secret  bowers 
Of  deep,  mysterious  nature  ;  there  t'  explore 
The  causes  of  fecundity  ;  and  how 
The  various  elements,  earth,  water,  air 
And  fire  united  —  the  enlivening  ray 
Diurnal  —  the  prolific  dews  of  night  — 
With  all  the  rolling  seasons  of  the  year  — 
In  vegetation's  work  their  power  combine. 

NATPRE  PERSONIFIED   AND   DESCRIBED. 

Whither,  0  whither  dost  thou  lead  my  steps, 
Divine  Philosophy  ?     What  scenes  are  these. 
Which  strike  my  wondering  senses?  Lo  !  enthroned 
Upon  a  solid  rock,  great  Nature  sits. 
Her  eyes  to  heaven  directed,  as  from  thence 
Receiving  inspiration.     Round  her  head 
A  mingled  wreath  of  fruits  and  flowers  entwines. 
Her  robe,  with  every  motion  changing  hue, 
Flows  down  in  plenteous  foldings,  and  conceals 
Her  secret  footsteps  from  the  eyes  of  men. 


List !  list !  what  harmony,  what  heavenly  sounds 
Enchant  my  ravished  ear?     'T  is  ancient  Pan,' 
Who  on  his  seven-fold  pipe,  to  the  rapt  soul 
Conveys  the  fancied  music  of  the  spheres. 
See  by  his  strains  the  elements  inspired, 
Join  in  mysterious  work  ;  their  motions  led 
By  active  2  fire,  in  windings  intricate, 
But  not  perplexed,  nor  vague.     And  who  are  they? 
What  pair,  obeying  in  alternate  rounds 
The  tuneful  melody  ?     Majestic  one. 
And  grave,  lifting  her  awful  forehead,  moves 
In  shadowy  silence,  borne  on  raven  wings. 
Which,  waving  to  the  measured  sounds,  beat  time. 
A  veil  obscures  her  face  ;  a  sable  stole, 
Bedecked  with  sparkling  gems,  conceals  her  form  ; 
As  wreaths  of  bending  poppy  crown  her  brow. 
The  other,  raised  on  swan-like  spreading  plumes, 
Glides  gayly  on  :  a  milk-white  robe  invests 
His  frame  transparent  ;   in  his  azure  eyes 
Dwells  brightness,  while  around  his  radiant  head, 
A  shining  glory  paints  his  flying  robe. 
With  all  the  colors  of  the  watery  bow. 


1  MytholoRistshav. 

seven  reeds,  was  lli^ 
they  say  make  the  h 


f  Ihinss 


SPRING  —  APRIL. 


59 


rnK  smsoss-,  spring  and  summer  pbh 

SOSU'IBD   AND   DKdCMlUlfD. 

Proceeding  now,  in  more  majestic  steps, 
The  varying  seasons  join  the  mystic  train. 
In  all  the  blooming  hues  of  florid  youth. 
Gay  Spring  advances  smiling  ;  on  her  head 
A  flowery  ohaplct,  mixed  with  verdant  buds, 
Sheds  aromatic  fragrance  through  the  air  ; 
While  little  lophyrs,  breathing  wanton  gales, 
Before  her  flutter,  turning  back  to  gazo, 
With  looks  enamored,  on  her  lovely  face. 
Summer  succeeds,  crowned  with  the  bearded  ears 
Of  ripening  harvest ;  in  her  hand  she  bears 
A  shining  sickle  ;  on  her  glowing  cheek 
The  fervent  heat  paints  deep  a  rosy  blush  : 
Her  thin  light  garment  waving  with  the  wind. 
Flows  loosely  from  her  bosom,  and  reveals 
To  the  pleased  eye  the  beauties  of  her  form. 

AL-TCHS  AND  WINTER  PBRSONIFIKD   AND  DESCRIBED. 

Then  follows  Autumn,  bearing  in  her  lap 
The  blushing  fruits  which  Summer's  sultry  breath 
Had  mellowed  to  her  hand.     A  clustering  wreath 
Of  purple  grapes,  half  hid  with  spreading  leaves. 
Adorns  her  brow.     Her  dew-besprinkled  locks 
Begin  to  fall,  her  bending  shoulders  sink. 
And  active  vigor  leaves  her  sober  steps. 
Winter  creeps  on,  shrivelled  with  chilling  cold  ; 
Bald  his  white  crown,  upon  his  silver  beard 
Shines  the  hoar  frost,  and  icicles  depend. 
Rigid  and  stem  his  melancholy  face  ; 
Shivering  he  walks,  his  joints  benumbed  and  stiff. 
And  wraps  in  northern  furs  his  withered  trunk. 


And  now  great  Nature  pointing  to  the  train 
Her  heaven-directed  hand,  they  all  combine, 
In  measured  figures,  and  mysterious  rounds. 
To  weave  the  mazy  dance  ;  while  to  the  sound 
Of  Pan's  immortal  pipe,  the  goddess  joined 
Her  voice  harmonious  ;  and  the  listening  muse, 
Admiring,  caught  the  wonders  of  her  theme.' 

'  To  God,  supreme  Creator  !  great  and  good  ! 
All  wise,  Almighty  Parent  of  the  world  ! 
In  choral  symphonies  of  praise  and  love, 
Let  all  the  powers  of  nature  raise  the  song  ! ' 

•The  wat-ery  signs  forsaking,  see  the  sun, 
Great  father  of  the  vegetable  tribes. 
Darts  from  the  Kain  his  all-enlivening  ray  ; 
When  now  the  genial  wannth  earth's  yielding  breast 
Unfolds.     Her  latent  salts,  sulphureous  oils, 
And  air,  and  water  mi.Ked,  attract,  repel, 
And  raise  prolific  ferment.     Lo  !  at  length 
The  vital  principle  begins  to  wake  : 
The  emulgent  fibres,  stretohiTr,-  n'luvl  tin-  r'">t. 
Seek  their  terrestrial  nurturr  ,    uln  Ii  > .;,,      -1 
In  limpid  currents  through  th.    i-     nlnu  iii  ■  s 
And  strained  and  filtered  in  ih.  ir  -iir.  i  - .  IN  ; 


To  its  own  nature  every  different  plant 

Assimilating,  changes.     Awful  Heaven  ! 

How  wondrous  is  thy  work,  to  Thee  !  to  Thee  ! 

Mysterious  power  belongs  !  Summer's  fierce  heat 

Increasing  rarifles  the  ductile  juice. 

Sec,  from  the  root,  and  from  the  bark  imbibed. 

The  clastic  air  impels  the  rising  sap. 

Swift  through  the  stem,  through  every  branching  arm 

And  smaller  shoot,  the  vivid  moisture  flows. 

Protruding  from  their  buds  the  opening  leiivcs  ; 

Whence,  as  ordained,  the  expiring  air  flows  out 

In  copious  exhalations  ;  and  from  whence 

Its  noblest  principles  the  plant  inhales. 

THE  BEAUTIES  OF  NATCRE  }   LEAVES,  FLOWERS,  AND   FRCITS. 

'  See  !  see  !  the  shooting  verdure  spreads  around  ! 
Ye  sons  of  men,  with  rapture  view  the  scene  ! 
On  hill  and  dale,  on  meadow,  field,  and  grove, 
Clothed  in  soft  mingling  shades  from  light  to  dark, 
The  wandering  eye  di'li_-lii    1  )    ^      untinil. 
The  hawthorn's  whiti/Mi II  ■      i    i    r  hi-  lilooms, 
And  Flora's  pencil  o'.-i  II.  ii    i     ;  .ti, 

The  varying  scenes  enrii  h       II   .  ,.  ;y  ^-;ilo 

Breathes  odors,  every  ze|.liyr  frcin  his  wings 
Wafting  new  fragrance  ;    borne   from  trees,    from 
Borne  from  the  yellow  cowslip,  violet  blue,  [shrubs. 
From  deep  carnations,  from  the  blushing  rose, 
From  every  flower  and  aromatic  herb. 
In  grateful  mixtures.     Hence  ambrosial  fruits 
Yield  their  delicious  flavors.     The  sweet  grape. 
The  mulberry's  cooling  juice,  the  luscious  plum, 
The  healthful  apple,  the  dissolving  peach. 
And  thy  rich  nectar,  many-flavored  pine. 
These  are  the  gracious  gifts,  0  favored  Man  ! 
Those,  these  to  thee  the  gracious  gifts  of  Heaven, 
A  world  of  beauty,  wonder,  and  delight.' 

ASCRIPTION  OF  PRAISE  TO  OOD. 

'  To  God,  supreme  Creator  !  great  and  good  ! 
All-wise,  Almighty  Parent  of  the  world  ! 
In  choral  symphonies  of  praise  and  love, 
Let  all  the  powers  of  nature  close  the  strain.' 


or  (lifftTent  soils,  and  their  culture, 
uiid  ]>nictice.  Of  the  principles  anil 

iniprovin);  land.  Of  hudKin^  and  ditching.  C 
limln  r-trees.  Of  draining  wet  and  flonlmg  dry 
giirdciiing,  and  the  ganluns  of  Kpicurus. 


Mr.  Tull's  principles 
iractice  uf  the  Midille- 
nnd  other  nicthwls  of 


ANTACE3  AND  1 


ADVANTAUEii   < 


Descending  now  from  these  superior  themes 
0  muse,  in  notes  familiar  teach  the  swain 
The  hidden  properties  of  every  glebe. 
And  what  the  difl'erent  culture  each  requires. 
The  naturalist  to  sand,  or  loam,  or  clay. 
Reduces  all  the  varying  soils,  which  clothe 
The  bosom  of  this  earth  with  beauty.     Sand, 


RURAL   POETRY. 


Hot,  open,  loose,  admits  the  genial  ray 
With  freedom,  and  with  greediness  imbibes 
The  falling  moisture  :  hence  the  embryo  seeds, 
Lodged  in  its  fiery  womb,  push  into  life 
With  early  hasto,  and  hurried  to  their  prime, 
Their  vital  juices  spent,  too  soon  decay. 


Correct  this  error  of  the  ardent  soil 
With  cool  manure  :  let  stiff,  cohesive  clay 
Hive  the  loose  glebe  consistence  and  firm  strength 
So  shall  thy  laboring  steers,  when  harvest  calls, 
Bending  their  patient  shoulders  to  the  yoke, 
Drag  home  in  copious  loads  the  yellow  grain. 


Has  fortune  fixed  thy  lot  to  toil  in  clay  ? 
Despair  not,  nor  repine  :  the  stubborn  soil 
Shall  yield  to  cultivation,  and  reward 
The  hand  of  diligence.     Here  give  the  plough 
No  rest.     Break,  pound  the  clods,  and  with  warm 
Relieve  the  sterile  coldness  of  the  ground,      [dungs 
Chilled  with  obstructed  water.     Add  to  these 
The  sharpest  sand,  to  open  and  unbind 
The  close-cohering  mass  ;  so  shall  new  pores 
Admit  the  solar  beams'  enlivening  heat. 
The  nitrous  particles  of  air  receive. 
And  yield  a  passage  to  the  soaking  rain. 
Hence  fermentation,  hence  prolific  power, 
And  hence  the  fibrous  roots  in  quest  of  food. 
Find  unobstructed  entrance,  room  to  spread, 
And  richer  juices  feed  the  swelling  shoots  : 
So  the  strong  field  shall  to  the  reaper's  hand 
Produce  a  plenteous  crop  of  waving  wheat. 


Whom    llr;,lr,r-    K||„l    l):,,„|.    i  „<  I  „  I -OR  t   tO   hiswish, 

Hath  liLi.v.i  n|-,M  ;,   l,,u„y  ^.iiL      lie  views 
All  piutluuts  (j1  thu  ti'iuiiug  eaith  arise 
In  plenteous  crops,  nor  scarce  the  needful  aid 
Of  culture  deign  to  ask.     Him,  nor  the  fears 
Of  scorching  heat,  nor  deluges  of  rains 
Alarm.     His  kindly  fields  sustain  all  change 
Of  seasons,  and  support  a  healthy  seed 
In  vigor  through  the  perils  of  the  year. 

TDLL'S  THEORY  OF  VEGETATION. 

But  new  improvements  curious  wouldst  thou  learn. 
Hear  then  the  lore  of  fair  Berkeria's  '  son. 
Whose  precepts,  drawn  from  sage  experience,  claim 
Regard.     The  pasture,  and  the  food  of  plants. 
First  let  the  young  agricolist  be  taught  : 
Then  how  to  sow  and  raise  the  embryo  seeds 
Of  every  different  species.     Nitre,  fire, 
Air,  water,  earth,  their  various  powers  combine 
In  vegetation  ;  but  the  genuine  food 

1  The  late  Mr.  Tull,  of  Shalbnrne,  in  Berkshire,  in  bia 
Hovse-hoelng  Husbandry,  or  an  Essay  on  the  Principles  of 
Vegetation  and  Tillage. 


Of  every  plant  is  earth  :  hence  their  increase, 
Their  strength  and  sul.-t^m.-,..     Mtrt-  first  prepares 
And  scp.irate3  the  i-i.ii.-irird  |,:m|.  ;   ivhich  then 
The  watery  vehicle  ;(.->uiiir..  ;iiii|  [lin.ugh 
The  ascending  tubes,  —  nnpelled  by  subtle  air, 
Which  gives  it  motion,  and  that  motion  heat,  — 
The  fine  terrestrial  aliment  conveys. 


Is  earth  the  food  of  plants  ?  their  pasture  then 
By  ceaseless  tillage,  or  the  use  of  dung. 
Must  or  ferment,  or  pulverize,  to  fit 
For  due  reception  of  the  fibrous  roots  : 
But  from  the  steams  of  ordure,  from  the  stench 
Of  ijutrefaction,  from  stercoreous  fumes 
Of  rottenness  and  filth,  can  sweetness  spring? 
Or  grateful,  or  salubrious  food  to  man  ? 
As  well  might  virgin  innocence  preserve 
Her  purity  from  taint  amidst  the  stews. 
Defile  not  then  the  freshness  of  thy  field 
AYith  dung's  polluting  tuucli  ;   but  let  the  plough, 
The  hoe,  the  harrow,  ;iipI  llir  i,,!],,-  Ir,„l 


Thus  taught  the  Shalborne  swain  ;  who  first  with 
skill 
Led  through  the  field  the  many-coultered  plough  ; 
Who  first  his  seed  committed  to  the  ground, 


E.xpandiug  crowned  the  intermediate  ridge,  — 
His  new  *  machine,  formed  to  exterminate 
The  weedy  race  (intruders  who  devour, 
But  nothing  pay),  to  pulverize  the  soil. 
Enlarge  and  change  the  pasture  of  the  roots, 
And  to  its  last  perfection  raise  the  crop. 
Ho  taught,  alas  !  but  practised  ill  the  lore 
Of  his  own  precepts.     Fell  disease,  or  sloth, 
Relaxed  the  hand  of  industry  :  his  farm. 
His  own  philosophy  disgracing,  brought 
Discredit  on  the  doctrines  he  enforced. 


Then  banish  from  thy  fields  the  loiterer  sloth, 
Nor  listen  to  the  voice  of  thoughtless  ease. 
Him  sordidness  and  penury  surround, 
Beneath  whose  lazy  hand  the  farm  runs  wild  ; 
Whose  heart  nor  feels  the  joy  improvement  gives, 


SPRINQ  —  APRIL. 


Nor  leaden  eye  the  beauties  that  arise 

From  labor,  sees.     Accumulated  filth 

Annoys  his  crowded  steps  ;  even  at  his  door 

A  yellow  mucus  from  the  dunghill  stands 

In  squalid  pools  ;  his  buildings,  unrepaired. 

To  ruin  rush  precipitate  ;  his  fields 

Disorder  governs,  and  licentious  weeds 

Spring  up  unchecked  ;  the  nettle  and  the  dock. 

Wormwood  and  thistles,  in  their  seasons  rise, 

And  deadly  nightshade  spreads  bis  poison  round. 

Ah  !  wretched  he  !  if  chance  bis  wandering  child, 

By  hunger  prompted,  pluck  the  alluring  fruit ! 

Benumbing  stupor  creeps  upon  his  brain  ; 

Wild  grinning  laughter  soon  to  tbis  succeeds  ; 

Strange  madness  then,  and  death  in  hideous  form. 

Jlysterious  Providence  !  ah,  why  concealed 

In  such  a  tempting  form  should  poisons  lurk  ; 

Ah,  why  so  near  the  path  of  innocents 

Should  spring  their  baue  ?    But  Thou  alone  art  wise  ! 


Thus  hath  the  faithful  Muse  his  lore  pursued, 
M'ho,  trusting  to  the  culture  of  his  plough, 
Refused  the  dunghilTs  aid.     Yet  listen  nut 
To  doubtful  precepts,  with  implicit  fjiith  ; 
Experience  to  experience  oft  opposed 
Leaves  truth  uncertain.     See  what  various  crops. 
In  quick  succession,  crown  the  gardened  fields 
On  Thames'  prolific  bank.     On  culture's  hand 
Alone  do  these  Horticulists  rely  ? 
Or  do  they  owe  to  London's  rich  manure 
Those  products  which  its  crowded  markets  fill  ? 
Both  lend  their  aid  :  and  both,  with  art  improved, 
Have  spread  the  glory  of  their  gardens  wide, 
A  theme  of  wonder  to  the  distant  swain. 
Hence  the  piazzacd '  square,  where  erst,  embowered 
In  solemn  sloth,  good  Martin's  lazy  monks 
Droned  out  their  useless  lives  in  pampered  ease, 
Now  boasts,  from  industry's  rough  hand  supplied. 
Each  various  esculent  the  teeming  earth 
In  every  changing  season  can  produce. 


CiTTUE,   .IWINE,    TKiEONS,    HOUSES,   SUEEP  j    SOOT  ;   Ml 

Join,  then,  with  culture  the  prolific  strength 
Of  such  manure  as  best  inclines  to  aid 
Thy  failing  glebe.     Let  oily  marl  impart 
Its  unctuous  moisture,  or  the  crumbling  ^  tan 
Its  glowing  heat.     Nor  from  the  grazing  herds. 
Nor  bristly  swine  obscene,  disdain  to  heap 
Their  cooling  ordure.     Nor  the  warmer  dungs 
Of  fiery  pigeons,  of  the  stabled  horse. 
Or  folded  fioek,  neglect.     From  sprinkled  soot. 


3  The  bark  of  oak,  after  It  has  been  used  by  the  tanner. 
It  is  frequently  made  use  of  for  hot-beiU,  particularly  for 
raising  pine..apptc3  ;  and  is  called  by  the  ganlenera  tan. 


From  ashes  strewed  around,  lot  the  damp  soil 
Their  nitrous  salts  imbibe.     Scour  the  deep  ditch 
From  its  black  sediment  ;  and  from  the  street 
Its  trampled  mixtures  rake.     Oreen  standing  pools, 
Large  lakes,  or  meadows  rank,  in  rotted  heaps 
Of  unripe  weeds,'  afford  a  cool  manure. 

aiNlllES  ;    SHELLT  OCBAS-SiSDS   iSD    TIIEIB    USE  ;    PULSE 
AND   OTHER  G«BBX  CHOPS  PI-OCGnEl)  IN  ;  TlllSIPS. 

From  ocean's  verge,  if  not  too  far  removed 
Its  shelly  lands,  convoy  a  warm  compost, 
From  land  and  wave  commixt  with  ricliness  fiaught: 
This  the  sour  glebe  shall  sweeten,  and  for  years. 
Through  chilly  clay,  its  vigorous  heat  shall  glow. 
But  if  nor  oily  marl,  nor  crumbling  tan. 
Nor  dung  of  cattle,  nor  the  trampled  street. 
Nor  weed,  nor  ocean's  sand,  can  lend  its  aiil  ; 
Then,  farmer,  raise  immediate  from  their  sectls 
The  juicy  stalks  of  largely-spreading  pulse, 
Beans,  buck-wheat,  spurry,  or  the  climbing  vetch  ; 
These  early  reaped,  and  buried  in  the  soil. 
Enrich  the  parent  womb  from  whence  they  sprung. 
Or  sow  the  bulbous  turnip  ;  this  shall  yield 
Sweet  pasture  to  the  flocks  or  lowing  herds. 
And  well  prepare  thy  lond  for  future  crops. 


I   FENCISO  i  THE  S 


,  HOLLY  ;  1 


Yet  not  alone  to  raise,  but  to  secure 
Thy  products  from  invasion,  and  divide 
For  various  use  the  appropriated  fields, 
Disdain  not  thus  to  learn.     For  this,  the  sloe. 
The  furze,  the  holly,  to  thy  hand  present 
Their  branches,  and  their  different  merits  boost. 
But  from  the  nursery  then  with  care  select 
Quick   hawthorn   sets,   well    rooted,    smooth,    and 
Then  low  as  sinks  thy  ditch  on  either  side,  [straight ; 
Let  rise  in  height  the  sloping  bank  ;  there  plant 
Thy  future  fence,  at  intervals  a  foot 
From  each  to  each,  in  beds  of  richest  mould. 


Nor  ends  the  labor  here  ;  but  to  defend 
Thy  infant  shoots  from  depredation  deep. 
At  proper  distance  drive  stiff  oaken  stakes  ; 
Which,  interwove  with  boughs  and  flexile  twigs. 
Frustrate  the  nibbling  flock  or  browsing  herd. 
Thus,  if  from  weeds,  that  rob  them  of  their  food. 
Or  choke,  by  covering  from  the  vital  air. 
The  hoe's  neat  culture  keep  the  thickening  shoots. 
Soon  shall  they  rise,  and  to  thy  field  afford 
A  beauteous,  strong,  impenetrable  fence. 
The  linnet,  goldfinch,  nightingale,  and  thrush. 
Here,  by  security  invited,  build 
Their  little  nests,  and  all  thy  labors  cheer 
With  melody  :  the  hand  of  lovely  May 
Here  strews  her  sweetest  blossoms  ;  and  if  mixed 


1  If  weeds  are  suffered  to  stand  till  they  i 


62 


KUKAL  POETRY. DODSLET. 


With  stocks  of  knotted  crabs,  ingrafted  fruits, 
When  autumn  crowns  the  year,  shall  smile  around. 

TREE-CULTURE  ;   CAUSES  FOR  IT  ;   CHOICE   OF  A  NUKSEBT,  AN. 
ITS  PROTECTION. 

But  from  low  shrubs,  if  thy  ambition  rise 
To  cultivate  the  larger  tree,  attend. 

From  seeds,  or  suckers,  layers,  or  sets,  arise 
Their  various  tribes  ;  for  now  exploded  stands 
The  vulgar  fable  of  spontaneous  birth, 
To  plant  or  animal.'     He,  then,  who,  pleased, 
In  Fancy's  eye  beholds  his  future  race 
Rejoicing  in  the  shades  their  grandsire  gave  ; 
Or  he  whose  patriot  views  extend  to  raise, 
In  distant  ages,  Britain's  naval  power  ; 
Must  first  prepare,  inclining  to  the  south, 
A  sheltered  nursery  ;  well  from  weeds,  from  shrub 
Cleared  by  the  previous  culture  of  the  plough. 
From  cattle  fenced,  and  every  peeling  tooth. 


Then  from  the  summit  of  the  fairest  tree, 
His  seed  selected  ripe,  and  sowed  in  rills 
On  nature's  fruitful  lap  :  the  harrow's  care 
Indulgent  covers  from  keen  frosts  that  pierce. 
Or  vermin  who  devour.     The  wintry  months 
In  embryo  close  the  future  forest  lies, 
And  waits  for  germination  :  but  in  spring. 
When  their  green  heads  first  rise  above  the  earth, 
And  ask  thy  fostering  hand  ;  then  to  their  roots 
The  light  soil  gently  move,  and  strew  around 
Old  leaves,  or  littered  straw,  to  screen  from  heat 
The  tender  infants.     Leave  not  to  vile  weeds 
This  friendly  office  ;  whoso  false  kindness  chokes. 
Or  starves  the  nurslings  they  pretend  to  shade. 

TRiSSPLiSTINO  OF  NURSLINGS  j  WHEN  AND  HOW. 

When  now  four  summers  have  beheld  their  youth 
Attended  in  the  nursery,  then  transplant. 
The  soil  prepared,  to  where  thy  future  grove 
Is  destined  to  uprear  its  leafy  head. 
Avoid  the  error  of  impatience.     Ue 
Who,  eager  to  enjoy  the  cooling  shade 
His  hands  shall  raise,  removes  at  vast  expense 
Tall  trees,  with  envy  and  regret  shall  see 
His  neighbor's  infant  plants  soon,  soon  outstrip 
The  tardy  loiterers  of  his  dwindled  copse. 


Aspiring  still,  shall  spread  their  powerful  arms. 
While  the  weak  puny  race,  obscured  below, 
Sickening,  die  off,  and  leave  their  victors  room. 


Nor  small  the  praise  the  skilful  planter  claims 
From  his  befriended  country.     Various  arts 
Borrow  from  him  materials.     The  soft  beech. 
And  close-grained  box,  employ  the  turner's  wheel, 
And  with  a  thousand  implements  supply 
Mechanic  skill.     Their  beauteous  veins  the  yew 
And  phyllerea  lend,  to  surface  o'er 
The  cabinet.     Smooth  linden  best  obeys 
The  carver's  chisel  :  best  his  curious  work 
Displays  in  all  its  nicest  touches.     Birch  — 
Ah  !  why  should  birch  supply  the  chair  ?  since  oft 
Its  cruel  twigs  compel  the  smarting  youth 
To  dread  the  hateful  seat.     Tough-bending  ash 
Gives  to  the  humble  swain  his  useful  plough, 
And  for  the  peer  his  prouder  chariot  builds. 
To  weave  our  baskets  the  soft  osier  lends 
His  pliant  twigs  :  staves  that  nor  shrink  nor  swell. 
The  cooper's  close-wrought  cask  to  chestnut  owes. 


The  sweet-leaved  walnut's  undulated  grain. 
Polished  with  care,  adds  to  the  workman's  art 
Its  varying  beauties.     The  tall,  towering  elm. 
Scooped  into  hollow  tubes,  in  secret  streams 
Convoys  for  many  a  mile  the  limpid  wave  ; 
Or  from  its  height,  when  humbled  to  the  ground. 
Conveys  the  pride  of  mortal  man  to  dust. 
And  last  the  oak,  king  of  Britannia's  woods, 
And  guardian  of  her  isle  !  whose  sons  robust. 
The  best  supporters  of  incumbent  weight. 
Their  beams  and  pillars  to  the  builder  give. 
Of  strength  immense  :  or  in  the  bounding  deep 
The  loose  foundations  lay  of  floating  walls, 
Impregnably  secure.     But  sunk,  but  fallen 
From  all  your  ancient  grandeur,  0  ye  groves  ! 
Beneath  whose  lofty,  venerable  boughs. 
The  Druid  erst  his  solemn  rites  performed. 
And  taught  to  di>-t:iiit  i.  iilin    l.i-    nr-rcd  lore, — 
Where  are  your  111  :i  1 1  i.   l.uttoserv 

Your  thanklesso.ini, I        ,1.     i    .i  i  i-liiiig  sees. 
Her  naked  forests  l,.n;iii^  i-i  >.ui  shade. 


But  if  thy  emulation's  generous  pride 
Would  boast  the  largest  timber  straight  and  strong! 
Thick  let  the  seedlings  in  their  native  beds 
Stand  unremoved  ;  so  shall  each  lateral  branch, 
Obstructed,  send  its  nourishment  to  raise 
The  towering  stem:  and  they  whose  vigorous  health 
Exalts  above  the  rest  their  lofty  heads, 


__. ,    yet  creative  energy  never  flags  ; 

preservation  is  perpetual  creation,  ana  seeds  and  eggs  are 
constantly  being  produced  by  the  ceaseless  love  and  wis- 
dom of  God.  where  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  existed. 


The  task,  the  glorious  task,  for  thee  remains, 
0  prince  beloved  !  for  thee  more  nobly  born 
Than  for  thyself  alone,  the  patriot  work 
Yet  unattempted  waits.     0  lot  not  pass 
The  fair  occasion  to  remotest  time 
Thy  name  with  praise,  with  honor  to  transmit ! 
So  shall  thy  country's  rising  fleets  to  thee 
Owe  future  triumph  ;  so  her  naval  strength, 
Supported  from  within,  shall  fix  thy  claim 
To  ocean's  sovereignty  ;  and  to  thy  ports, 


In  OTory  climate  of  tho  peopled  carth|^ 

Bear  oommorco  ;  fearless,  unresisted,  safe. 

Let  then  the  great  aiubitiun  fire  tliy  breast. 

For  this  thy  native  land  ;   rephiee  tho  lust 

Inhabitants  of  her  deserted  plains. 

Let  Thame  once  more  on  W  indsor's  lofty  hills 

Survey  young  forests  planted  by  thy  hand. 

Let  fair  Sabrina's  flood  again  behold 

Tho  Spaniard's '  terror  rise  renewed  ;  and  Trent, 

From  Sherwood's  ample  plains,  with  pride  convey 

Tho  bulwarks  of  her  country  to  tho  main. 


THK  POET'S  (DODSLET'S)   BlKTn-ri  .U  K   AS 

0  native  Sherwood,  \v.i\<]'y  u.  ir  thi  li:ird, 
Might  these  his  rural  ...  i^  -  r.  lui.i..   ..,.„. 
Boast  of  tall  grove-s,  il.;.r,  ..Ml.ii..-  .. ,  i  tl.y  [ 
Rose  to  their  tuneful  nuli.ii.v.     lUit,  uh  ! 
Beneath  the  feeble  efforts  of  a  muse 
Untutored  by  the  lore  of  Greece  or  Rome  ; 
A  stranger  to  the  fair  Ciistaliiui  spriiij;?, 
Whence  happier  port-  ..i  . n  n.  ..  .i..i\\ , 
And  the  sweet  ma;;i.' .'  i    .  m  i^,— 

The  weak  presumpt..'..  i   i  ii   ,     .  Kpirt 

Yet  sure  some  sacred  iia|.ui;u  ,:iiii  luj  l.itasl 
I  feel,  I  feel,  an  heavenly  guest  withiu  ! 
And  all-obedient  to  the  ruling  God, 
Tho  pUaaiug  task  which  ho  inspires  pursue. 


And  hence,  disdaining  low  and  trivial  things  ; 
Why  should  I  tell  of  him  wliose  obvious  art. 
To  drain  the  low  damp  meadow,  sloping  sinks 
A  hollow  trench  ;  which,  arched  at  half  its  depth. 
Covered  with  filtering  brush-wood,  furze,  or  broom, 
And  surfaced  o'er  with  earth,  in  secret  streams 
Draws  its  collected  moisture  from  the  glebe  ? 
Or  why  of  him,  who  o'er  his  sandy  fields, 
Too  dry  to  bear  the  sun's  meridian  beam. 
Calls  from  the  neighboring  hills  obsequious  springs, 
Which,  led  in  winding  currents  through  the  mead, 
Cool  the  hot  soil,  refresh  the  thirsty  plain. 
While  withered  plants  reviving  smile  around  ? 

LAXnSClPB-CiRDEN-ING  J    A    TISTEFILLT    LAID    OIT    FABM  ; 
WALKS  i  WALL-FBflTS,   ESCCLESTS. 

But  sing,  0  muse  !  the  swain,  the  happy  swain, 
Whom  taste  and  nature,  leading  o'er  his  fields, 
Conduct  to  every  rural  beauty.     See  ! 
Before  his  footsteps  winds  the  waving  walk, 
Here  gently  rising,  there  descending  slow. 
Through  the  tall  grove,  or  near  tho  water's  brink. 
Where  flowers  besprinkled  paint  the  shelving  bank. 
And  weeping  willows  bend  to  kiss  the  stream. 
Now  wandering  o'er  tho  lawn  he  roves,  and  now 
Beneath  the  hawthorn's  secret  shade  reclines  : 
Where  purple  violets  hang  their  bashful  heads, 
Where  yellow  cowslips,  and  the  blushing  pink, 
Their  mingled  sweets  and  lovely  hues 


1  The  officers  on  board  the  Spanish  fleet,  in  1888,  called 
the  Invincible  Arniaila,  had  it  in  tlieir  orders,  if  they  could 
not  subdue  the  islaiirt,  Ht  least  to  destroy  the  forest  of  Dean, 
which  is  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  river  Severn. 


Hero  sheltered  from  tho  north,  his  ripening  fruits 
Display  their  sweet  temptations  from  tho  wall, 
Or  from  tho  gay  espalier  :  while  below. 
His  various  esculents,  from  glowing  beds, 
Give  tlio  fair  promise  of  delicious  feasts. 


TliiTC  from  his  forming  hand  new  scenes  arise, 
The  fair  creation  of  his  fancy's  eye. 
Lo  !  bosomed  in  the  solemn,  shady  grove, 
Whose  reverend  branches  wave  on  yonder  hill. 
He  views  the  moss-grown  temple's  ruined  tower. 
Covered  with  creeping  ivy's  clustered  leaves  ;  ' 

Tho  mansion  seeming  of  some  rural  god,  ' 

Whom  nature's  choristers,  in  untaught  hymns 
Of  wild  yet  sweetest  harmony,  adore. 


A  PBOSPECT    OVER    AS    IMPROVED    ASD    CCLTITATED    LASD- 

BOSE,  ACACIA,  B0SE3,  noNEISCCKLK,  ME/.EBEOS,   LAIBU8- 
T1.STS,   LABCaSlM. 

From  the  bold  brow  of  that  aspiring  steep, 
Where  hang  tho  nibbling  flocks,  and  view  below 
Their  downward  shadows  in  the  gla.<sy  wave, 
What  pleasing  landscapes  spread  before  his  eye  ! 
Of  scattered  villages,  aud  winding  streams, 
And  meadows  green,  and  woods,  and  distant  spires. 
Seeming,  above  the  blue  horizon's  bound. 
To  prop  the  canopy  of  Heaven.     Now  lost 
Amidst  a  blooming  wilderness  of  shrubs, 
The  golden  orange,  arbute  ever  green. 
The  early-blooming  almond,  feathery  pine. 
Fair  opulus,'  to  spring,  to  autumn  dear. 
And  the  sweet  shades  of  varying  verdure  caught 
From  i-.lt  ......  i;.'.^  L'.i.lly  waving  branch, — 

Heedk.--  Ii.    «:....!..-  :   u  l.ile  the  grateful  scent8 

Ofswi-.l-l......  ....-.-.  I."i»-ysuckleswild, 

Regale  tlie  smell  ;  and  to  tho  enchanted  eyo 
Mezercon's  purple,  laurustinus  white. 
And  pale  laburnum's  pendent  flowers  display 
Their  different  beauties. 

LAWNS  ;  WATERFALLS  5   BAUST3  OP  HEDITATIOX. 

O'er  the  smooth-shorn  grass 
His  lingering  footsteps  leisurely  proceed, 
In  meditation  deep  :  —  when,  hark  !  the  sound 
Of  distant  water  steals  upon  his  ear  ; 
And  sudden  opens  to  his  pausing  eye 
Tho  rapid,  rough  cascade,  from  tho  rude  rock 
Down  dashing  in  a  stream  of  lucid  foam  : 
Then  glides  away,  meandering  o'er  tho  lawn, 
A  liquid  surface  ;  shining  seen  afar. 
At  intervals,  beneath  the  shadowy  trees  ; 
Till  lost  and  buried  in  tlie  distant  gruve. 
Wrapt  into  sacred  musing,  ho  reclines 
Beneath  tho  covert  of  embowering  shades  ; 
And,  painting  to  his  mind  tho  bustling  scenes 
Of  pride  and  bold  ambition,  pities  kings. 

1  The  pelder-rose,  a  marsh  shrub,  called  also  the  snow- 


64 


RURAL    POETRY.- 


APOSTROPHE  TO  THE    GENICS  OF  GARDENS  ',    PARADISE,  TH 
HESPERIDES,  CASTALIA,   TEMPB  ;     BRITISH    LANDSCAPES. 

Genius  of  gardens  !  Nature's  fairest  child  ! 
Thou  who,  inspired  by  the  directing  mind 
Of  Heaven,  <lidst  plan  the  scenes  of  Paradise  ! 


Ca>hilriiii  >|iiiim..  I  nil  tlir  r,iMi:iiil  ins  groves 

OlTompes  vale  :  (J  iili'  !■    111!'  n  l-u  hid? 
For  ages  where  have    I  unknown? 

Welcome  at  length,  till  I  '      -i  ' ilic  shore 

Of  Britain's  beautcuu-  i  l^       "ii-n    i ,,.  hint  plains, 
Where  hills  and  dales,  and  wunds  and  waters  join, 
To  aid  thy  pencil,  favor  thy  designs, 
And  give  thy  varying  landscapes  every  charm. 


Drive  then  Batavia's '  monsters  from  our  shades ; 
Nor  let  unhallowed  shears  profane  the  form, 
Which  Heaven's  own  hand,  with  symmetry  divine. 
Hath  given  to  all  the  vegetable  tribes. 
Banish  the  regular  deformity 
Of  ]ilans  by  line  and  compass,  rules  abhorred 
In  nature's  free  plantations  ;  and  restore 
Its  pleasing  wildness  to  the  garden  walk  ; 
The  calm  serene  recess  of  thoughtful  man, 
In  meditation's  silent,  sacred  hour. 


Anil,  I'l  *  ilii    |i  ■■^M-  "1  I  liv  steps  appears 
In  tin  1)11 1  I  ,; :    ;.  .1  round  the  land, 

Kiulir-i  in  (  Ki  IS!   I      I:,  „i!i.  "lis  model  seen  : 
Tlieie  thy  lii,-L  liii.nau,  iu  Uie  happy  shade 
To  nature  introduced,  the  goddess  wooed, 
And  in  sweet  rapture  there  enjoyed  her  charms. 
In  Richmond's  vencralile  woods  and  wilds. 

The  calm  retreat,  win  1.   «., I  h -ly, 

Unbending  from  his  111  I      i    ,   I  ii  i  1 1 1,  -  )ii_ace. 
Steals  a  few  moment-  i'    i.   li.L.    i,i      nn. 
On  Oatland's  brow,  when:  gi.uKkui  .,a,  enthroned. 
Smiling  on  beauty. 

THE  VALE  OF  ESBER  :    SOtlTHCOTE'S  GROUNDS  AND    HAGLET 


In  the  lovely  vale 
Of  Esher,  where  the  Mole  glides  lingering,  loth 
To  leave  such  scenes  of  sweet  siinpiieity. 
In  Woburn's=  ornamenti  d  lii  li^.  «li.  ri'  gay 
Variety,  where  minnliil  lulii-  nnl    IihIi-s,  [break, 
Where  lawns  and   l'ii  ii-,  mrl   "|iiiiin--  prospects 
AVitli  swfff  sin]-ivi.r.  n|i.ii  llir  wan.leling  eye. 
On   ll:,Ji  >■-   lull-,   liM,,il,,i   ),ndwild, 

^\  lirir  ilii-M^li  1  ■ill ■      1  IMS  of  hanging  woods, 

Anil  Milli'v-  -irini.  iMiil  iiirl-.^,  and  hollow  dales, 
AMiile  eeliu  talks,  and  nymphs  and  dryads  play, 
Thou  rov'st  enamored  ;  leading  by  the  hand 
Its  master,  who,  inspired  with  all  thy  art, 
A. 11-  1 1  I'lti.     til  what  nature  planned  so  fair. 


Hail,  sweet  retirement  '   Wi-->Innrs  ppnccfnl  seat ! 
Where,  lifted  fn mi  tin    n,,,,,!,  ;i,„l  ,,l!,„I^    ,,l;a'ed 
Beyond  the  deafen  II-  mill  il  Iniiniii  -iiili. 
The  Athenian  sa-r  '  lii<  liii|,|iy  fnllnn  irs  laii?;ht. 
That  pleasure  sprang  f  ruin  \iitue.  (iracious  Heaven! 
How  worthy  thy  divine  beneficence, 
This  fair  established  truth  !     Ye  blissful  bowers. 
Ye  voeal  groves,  whose  echoes  caught  his  lore, 

0  might  I  hear,  through  time's  long  tract  conveyed. 
The  moral  lessons  taught  beneath  your  shades  ! 
And,  lo  !  transported  to  the  sacred  scenes. 

Such  the  divine  enchantment  of  the  muse, 

1  see  the  sage  :  I  hear,  I  hear  his  voice. 


'  The  end  of  life  is  happiness  ;  the  means 
That  end  to  gain,  fair  virtue  gives  alone. 
From  the  vain  phantoms  of  delusive  fear. 
Or  strong  desire's  intemperance,  spring  the  woes 
Which  human  life  embitter.     0,  my  sons. 
From  error's  darkening  clouds,  from  groundless  fear 
Enfeebling  all  her  powers,  with  early  skill. 
Clear  the  bewildered  mind.     Let  fortitude 
Establish  in  your  breasts  her  steadfast  throne  ; 
So  shall  the  stings  of  evil  fix  no  wound  : 
Nor  dread  of  poverty,  nor  pain,  nor  grief, 
Nor  life's  disasters,  nor  the  fear  of  death. 
Shake  the  just  purpose  of  your  steady  souls. 
Tlie  golden  curb  of  temperance  next  prepare. 
To  rein  the  impetuous  sallies  of  desire. 

*  He  who  the  kindling  sparks  of  anger  checks, 
Shall  ne'er  with  fruitless  tears  in  vain  lament 
Its  flame's  destructive  rage.     Who  from  the  vale 
Ambition's  dangerous  pinnacle  surveys  ; 
Safe  from  the  blast  which  shakes  the  towering  pile. 
Enjoys  secure  repose,  nor  dreads  the  storm 
When  public  clamors  rise.     Who  cautious  turns 
From  lewd  temptation  smiling  in  the  eye 
Of  wantonness,  hath  burst  the  golden  bands 
Of  future  anguish  ;  hath  redeemed  his  frame 
From  early  feebleness,  and  dire  disease. 
Who  lets  the  griping  hand  of  avarice  pinch 
To  narrow  selfishness  the  social  heart, 
E.xcludes  fair  friendship,  charity,  and  love, 
From  their  divine  exertions  in  his  breast. 

MODERATION    TAUGHT  *,     WATER    AND    GABDEN-ROOTS,    HERBS 
AND  FRUITS,  SUFFICE   FOR  HEALTH  J   THE  CELESTIAL  VENUS. 

'  And  see,  my  friends,  this  garden's  little  bound, 
So  small  the  wants  of  nature,  well  supplies 
Our  board  with  plenty  ;  roots,  or  wholesome  pulse, 
Or  herbs,  or  flavored  fruits  ;  and  from  the  stream 
The  hand  of  moderation  fills  a  cup. 
To  thirst  delicious.     Hence  nor  fevers  rise, 
Nor  surfeits,  nor  the  boiling  Wood,  inflamed 
With  turbid  vinlrii.-,  t!ir  i ,  i,,-  ,IMi  ml- 


65 


Hear,  then,  and  weigh  the  moment  of  my  words :  — 
M'ho  thus  the  sensual  appetites  restrain, 
Knjoy  the  heavenly  Venus '  of  these  shades. 
Celestial  pleasure  ;  tranquil  and  secure, 
From  puin,  disease,  and  anxious  troubles  free.* 

CANTO    III. 


6t  liay-mnkinft.  A  mclhoil  of  preserving  liny  from  being 
mow-burnt,  or  Inking  lire.  Of  harvest,  ami  the  harvest- 
home.  The  praises  of  England  with  regard  to  its  various 
products.  Apples.  Hops.  Hemp.  Flax.  Conls.  Fuller's 
"    "■■       Iron.    Dyer's  herbs.    Escu- 


enrth.     Stone.   Leail. 

lents.   Mcillcinals.  Tranjtii 

earth  to  the  care  of  slieej),  cattle,  atal  horses.   Of  feeding 

sheep.   Of  their  diseases.   Slieep-sliearing.   Of  improving 

the  breed.  Of  the  dairy  and  its  products.  Of  horses.  The 

draught-horse,  road-horse,  liuntt 


PiSU-PBODCCTS  i  MOrnSO,   OAT-BJllJISO. 

'While  thus  at  case,  boucath  embellished  shades, 
We  rove  delighted  ;  lo  !  the  ripening  mead 
Calls  forth  the  laboring  hinds.     In  slanting  rows, 
With  still-approaching  step,  and  levelled  stroke, 
The  early  mower,  bending  o'er  his  scythe, 
Ljiys  low  the  slender  grass  ;  emblem  of  man, 
Falling  beneath  the  ruthless  hand  of  time. 
Then  follows  blithe,  equipped  with  fork  and  rake. 
In  light  array,  the  train  <if  nymphs  and  swains. 
Wide  o'er  the  field,  their  labor  seeming  sport. 
They  toss  the  withering  herbage.     Light  it  flies, 
Borne  on  the  wings  of  zephyr  ;  whose  soft  gale. 
Now  while  the  ascending  sun's  bright  beam  exhales 
The  grateful  sweetness  of  the  new-mown  hay. 
Breathing  refreshment,  fans  the  toiling  swain. 


And  soon  the  jocund  dale  and  echoing  hill 
Resound  with  merriment.     The  simple  jest. 
The  village  tale  of  scandal,  and  the  taunts 
Of  rude  unpolished  wit,  raise  sudden  bursts 
Of  laughter  from  beneath  the  spreading  oak. 
Whore,  thrown  at  case  and  sheltered  from  the  sun, 
The  plain  repast  and  wholesome  beverage  choor 
Their  spirits.     Light  as  air  they  spring,  renewed, 
To  social  labor  :  soon  the  ponderous  wain 
Moves  slowly  onwards  with  its  fragrant  load, 
And  swells  the  bam  capacious  :  or,  to  crown 
Their  toil,  large  tapering  pyramids  they  build, 
The  magazines  of  plenty,  to  insure 
From  winter's  want  tho  flocks  and  lowing  herds. 

HOW  TO  OBVIATE    TBK    Bi'-rBCTS  OF  A    SnoWEB  IN  WSTTISO 
THE  BAV  i  SPOSTASKOi;s  COMBCSTIOM. 

But  do  tho  threatening  clouds  precipitate 
Thy  work,  and  hurry  to  the  field  thy  team. 
Ere  the  sun's  heat,  or  penetrating  wind, 
Hath  drawn  its  moisture  from  tho  fading  grass? 
Or  hath  the  bursting  shower  thy  labors  drenched 

1  Epicurus  placed  in  hU  garden  a  statue  of  the  Venus 
Celeslis,  which  probably  he  might  intend  should  be  symbol- 
ical of  his  doctrine. 


With  sudden  inundation?     Ah,  with  caro 
Acoiunulato  thy  load,  or  in  the  mow. 
Or  on  tho  rising  riok.     Tho  smothered  damps, 
FermonttDg,  glow  within  ;   and  latent  sparks 
At  length  engendered,  kindle  by  degrees, 
Till,  wide  and  wider  spreading,  they  admit 
The  fatal  blast,  which  instantly  consumes, 
In  flames  resistless,  thy  collected  store. 
This  diro  disaster  to  avoid,  prepare 
A  hollow  basket,  or  tho  concave  round 
Of  some  capacious  vessel ;  to  its  sides 
Affix  a  triple  cord  :  then  let  tho  swains. 
Full  in  the  centre  of  thy  purposed  heap. 
Place  the  obtrusive  barrier  ;  raising  still 
As  they  advance,  by  its  united  bands, 
Tho  wide  machine.     Thus  leaving  in  tho  midst 
An  empty  space,  the  cooling  air  draws  in. 
And  from  tho  flame,  or  from  offensive  taints 
Pernicious  to  thy  cattle,  saves  their  food. 


rPOX   POVEBTT. 

And  now  the  ruler  of  the  golden  day 
From  the  fierce  Lion  glows  with  heat  intense  ; 
M'hilo  Ceres  in  the  ripening  field  looks  down 
In  smiles  benign.     Now  with  enraptured  eye 
Tho  end  of  all  his  toil,  and  its  reward, 
The  farmer  views.     Ah,  gracious  heaven  !  attend 
His  fervent  prayer  :  restrain  the  tempest's  rage, 
Tho  dreadful  blight  disarm  ;  nor  in  one  blast 
Tho  products  of  the  laboring  year  destroy  ! 
Yet  vain  is  heaven's  indulgence  ;  for  when  now 
In  ready  ranks  the  impatient  reapers  stand. 
Armed  with  the  scythe  or  sickle  :  —  echoes  shrill 
Of  winding  horns,  the  shouts  and  hallowings  loud 
Of  huntsmen,  and  the  cry  of  opening  hounds. 
Float  in  the  gale  melodious,  but  invade 
His  frighted  sense  with  dread.    Near  and  more  near 
Tho  unwelcome  sounds  approach  ;  and  sudden  o'er 
His  fence  the  tall  stag  bounds  :  in  closo  pursuit 
Tho  hunter  train,  on  many  a  noble  steed. 
Undaunted  follow  ;  while  the  eager  pock 
Burst  unresisted  through  the  yielding  hedge. 
In  vain,  unheard,  the  wretched  hind  exclaims  : 
The  ruin  of  his  crop  in  vain  laments  ; 
Deaf  to  his  cries,  they  traverse  tho  ripe  field 
In  cruel  exultation  ;  trampling  down 
Beneath  their  feet,  in  one  short  moment's  sport, 
The  peace,  the  comfort  of  his  future  year. 
Unfeeling  wealth  !  ah,  when  wilt  thou  forbear 
Thy  insults,  thy  injustice  to  the  poor? 
When  taste  the  bliss  of  nursing  in  thy  breast 
The  sweet  sensations  of  humanity  ? 
Yet  all  aro  not  destroyers  :  some  unspoiled 
By  fortune  still  preserve  a  feeling  heart. 

WBBAT-SnKAFl 


BTE  ;     OATS  i     THB 


Now  see  tho  yellow  fields,  with  laborers  spread. 
Resign  their  treasures  to  tho  reaper's  hand. 


66  RURAL   POETRY. 

Here  stands  in  comely  order  on  the  plain, 

'Mid  clustered  sheafs,  the  king  of  golden  corn. 

Unbearded  wheat,  support  of  human  life  ; 

There  rises  in  round  heaps  the  maltster's  hope. 

Grain  which  the  reaper's  care  solicits  best 

By  tempting  promises  of  potent  beer, 

The  joy,  the  meed  of  thirst-creating  toil ; 

The  poor  man's  clammy  fare '  the  sickle  reaps  ; 

The  steed's  light  provender  obeys  the  scythe. 

labor  and  mirth  united,  glow  beneath 

The  mid-day  sun  :  the  laughing  hinds  rejoice  : 

Their  master's  heart  is  opened,  and  his  eye 

Looks  with  indulgence  on  the  gleaning  poor. 

At  length,  adorned  with  boughs  and  garlands  gay. 

Nods  the  last  load  along  the  shouting  field. 

Now  to  the  God  of  harvest,  in  a  song, 

The  grateful  farmer  pays  accepted  thanks, 

With  joy  unfeigned  :  while  to  his  ravished  ear 

The  gratulations  of  assisting  swains 

Are  music.     His  exulting  soul  expands  : 

He  presses  every  aiding  hand  ;  ho  bids 

The  plenteous  feast,  beneath  some  spreading  tree, 

Load  the  large  board  ;   and  circulates  the  bowl. 

The  copious  bowl,  unmeasured,  unrestrained, 

A  free  libation  to  the  immortal  gods,' 

Who  crown  with  plenty  the  prolific  soil. 

APOSTROPHE  TO   GREAT    BRITAIN  ; 


Delineates  thought,  and  to  the  wondering  eye 
Embodies  vocal  air,  and  groups  the  sound. 


IING-STONE, 


Hail,  favored  island  !  happy  region,  hail  ! 
Whose  temperate  skies,  mild  air,  and  genial  dews, 
Enrich  the  fertile  glebe  ;  blessing  thy  sons 
With  various  products,  to  the  life  of  man 
Indulgent.     Thine  Pomona's  choicest  gift, 
The  tasteful  apple,  rich  with  racy  juice. 
Theme  of  thy  envied  song,  Silurian  bard  ; 
Affording  to  the  swains,  in  sparkling  cups, 
Delicious  beverage.     Thine,  on  Cantium's  hills, 
The  flowery  hop,  whose  tendrils  climbing  round 
The  tall  aspiring  pole,  bear  their  light  heads 
Aloft,  in  pendent  clusters  ;  which  in  malt's 
Fermenting  tuns  infused,  to  mellow  age 
Preserves  the  potent  draught.    Thine  too  the  plant. 
To  whose  tough,  stringy  stalks  thy  numerous  fleets 
Owe  their  strong  cordage  :  with  her  sister  stem, 
Her  fairer  sister,  whence  Minerva's  '  tribe, 
To  enfold  in  softness  beauty's  lovely  limbs. 
Present  their  woven  texture  :  and  from  whence, 
A  second  birth,  grows  the  papyrean  ■'leaf, 
A  tablet  firm,  on  which  the  painter  bard 


1  Rve  of  which  is  made  a  coarse,  clammy  kind  of  bread, 
used  "by  the  poorer  people  in  many  pnrU  of  England,  on 
account  of  its  clieapness.  It  is  a  favorite  bread  with  many 
in  the  United  States. 

2  The  author  acknowledges  the  God  of  the  Harvest,  a  few 
lines  above,  and  should  not  here  restore  an  usurped  domin 
ion  to  '  the  immortal  gods,'  long  since  happily  deceased  ; 
his  '  bowl,'  likewise,  is  too  '  unmeasured '  and  '  unrestrained' 
even  for  a  heathen  taste;  as  Epicurus  taught  at  the  end  of 
the  previous  canto. — J. 

8  Minerva  is  said  to  have  invented  the  art  of  weaving. 
<  The  pellicle  of  the  Egyptian  plant,  papyrus,  was   an- 
ciently used  for  writing  upon  ;  whence  the  name  of  paper. 


THE  BRrriSH  MIKES  ;  COAL,  FULLER'S  EA 

LIME,   LEAD,   IRQK  J   SMELTING  OF  IRON   ORE. 

With  various  blessings  teems  thy  fruitful  womb. 
Lo  !  from  the  depth  of  many  a  yawning  mine. 
Thy  fossil  treasures  rise.     Thy  blazing  hearths 
From  deep  sulphureous  pits,  consumeless  stores 
Of  fuel  boast.     The  oil-imbibing  earth," 
The  fuller's  mill  assisting,  safe  defies 
All  foreign  rivals  in  the  clothier's  art. 
The  builder's  stone  thy  numerous  quarries  hide  ; 
With  lime,  its  close  concomitant.     The  hills, 
The  barren  hills  of  Derby's  wildest  peak, 
In  lead  abound  ;  soft,  fusile,  malleable  ; 
Whose  ample  sheets  thy  venerable  domes. 
From  rough  inclement  storms  of  wind  and  rain, 
In  safety  clothe.     Devona's  ancient  mines, 
Whose  treasures  tempted  first  Phoenicia's  sons 
To  court  thy  commerce,  still  exhaustless,  yield 
The  valued  ore,  from  whence,  Britannia,  thou 
Thine  honored  ^  name  deriv'st.     Nor  want'st  thou 
Of  that  all-useful  metal,  the  support  [store 

Of  every  art  mechanic.     Hence  arise 
In  Dean's  large  forest  numerous  glowing  kilns, 
The  rough  rude  ore  calcining  ;  whence  conveyed 
To  the  fierce  furnace,  its  intenser  heat 
Melts  the  hard  mass,  which  flows  an  iron  stream, 
On  sandy  beds  below  :  and  stitfening  there, 
A  ponderous  lump,  but  to  the  hammer  tamed, 
Takes  from  the  forge,  in  bars,  its  final  form. 

FISHERIES  OF  BRITAIN;  BIRDS,  CATTLE;   FLOWERS  AND  FRCITS; 

But  the  glad  muse,  from  subterranean  caves 
Emerging,  views  with  wonder  and  delight 
What  numerous  products  still  remain  unsung. 
With  fish  abound  thy  streams;  thy  sheltering  woods 
To  fowl  give  friendly  covert ;  and  thy  plains 
The  cloven-footed  race,  in  various  herds, 
Range  undisturbed.     Fair  Flora's  sweetest  buds 
Blow  on  thy  beauteous  bosom  ;  and  her  fruits 
Pomona  pours  in  plenty  on  thy  lap. 

Thou  to  the  dyer's  tinging  cauldron  giv'st 
The  yellow-staining  weed,  luteola^; 
The  glastum''  brown,  with  which  thy  naked  sons 
In  ancient  time  their  hardy  limbs  distained  ; 
Nor  the  rich  rubia*  does  thine  hand  withhold. 


prohibited.  Dr.  Woodward  says  this  fossil  is  of 
more  value  to  England  than  the  mines  of  Peru  would  be. 

2  The  learned  antiquary,  Bocliart,  is  of  opinion  that  the 
Phcenicians,  coming  to  buy  tin  in  the  island  of  Albion,  gave 
it  the  name  of  Barat-Anac  ;  that  is,  the  land  or  country  of 
Tin  ;  which,  being  softened  by  the  Greeks  into  Britannia, 
was  adopted  by  the  Romans.  This  etymology  seems  to  be 
confirmed  by  the  Grecians  calling  the  isles  of  Scilly,  Cassl- 
terides,  which  signifies  in  Greek  the  same  as  Barat-Anac  in 
Phoinician.  —  Rapin. 

s  Wield,  commonly  called  dyer's  wood.  *  Woad. 

6  Madder,  which  is  used  by  the  dyers  for  making  the  most 
solid  and  richest  red  ;  and,  as  Mortimer  observes,  was 
thought  so  valuable  in  King  Charles  the  First's  time,  that 


SPRINa  —  APRIL. 


67 


PBODCCTS  or  BRITAIM. 


Grateful  and  salutary  spring  the  plants 
Which  crown  thy  numerous  gardens,  and  invito 
To  health  and  temperance,  in  the  simple  meal, 
Unstained  with  murder,  undefiled  with  blood, 
Unpoisoned  with  rich  sauces,  to  provoke 
Tho  unwilling  appetite  to  gluttony. 
For  this  the  bulbous  esculents  their  roots 
With  sweetness  fill  ;  for  this,  with  cooling  juice 
The  green  herb  spreads  its  leaves;  and  opening  buds, 
And  flowers  and  seeds,  with  various  flavors  tempt 
The  ensanguined  palato  from  its  savage  feast. 


,  LAVKVDEn,  MINT, 


TOE  HEDICIXAL  PLANTS  OF  BRITAIS  ; 
VALKRIAN,   ANGELICA,   CAMOMILE, 

Nor  hath  the  god  of  physio  and  of  day 
Forgot  to  shed  kind  influence  on  thy  plants 
Medicinal.     Lo  !  from  his  beaming  rays 
Their  various  energies  to  every  herb 
Imparted  flow.     lie  the  salubrious  leaf 
Of  cordial  sage,  the  purple-flowering  head 
Of  fragrant  lavender,  enlivening  mint. 
Valerian's  fetid  smell,  endows  benign 
With  their  cephalic  virtues.     He  the  root 
Of  broad  angelica,  and  tufted  flower 
Of  creeping  camomile,  impregnates  deep 
With  powers  carminative.     In  every  brake 
AVormwood  and  centaury  their  bitter  juice, 
To  aid  digestion's  sickly  powers,  refine. 


,  QVALITIES  OF  BRmSH  PLANTS  J  MABSH-MALL0W3, 
EEVXOO,  HTPEBICrM,  LIQIOBICE,  POPPY,  BAtTM,  SAFFBOS, 
THISTLE,  BOSS,   VIOLET. 

The  smooth  althffia  •  its  balsamic  wave 
Indulgent  pours.     Eryngo's  strengthening  root 
Surrounds  thy  sea-girt  isle,  restorative. 
Fair  Queen  of  Love,  to  thy  enfeebled  sons. 
Hypericum,'  beneath  each  sheltering  bush, 
Its  healing  virtue  modestly  conceals. 
Thy  friendly  soil  to  liquorice  imparts 
Its  dulcet  moisture,  whence  the  laboring  lungs 
Of  panting  asthma  find  a  sure  relief. 
The  scarlet  poppy,  on  thy  painted  fields, 
Bows  his  somniferous  head,  inviting  soon 
To  peaceful  slumber  the  disordered  mind  : 
Lo  !  from  the  balm's  exhilarating  leaf. 
The  moping  fiend,  black  melancholy,  flies  ; 
And  burning  febris,  with  its  lenient  flood. 
Cools  her  hot  entrails  ;  or  cmbathes  her  limbs 
In  sudorific  streams,  that  cleansing  flow 
From  saffron's  friendly  spring.     Thou  too  canst  boast 
The  blessed  thistle,'  whoso  rejective  power 
Believes  the  loaded  viscera  ;  and  to  thee 
The  rose,  the  violet,  their  emollient  leaves 
On  every  bosh,  on  every  bank,  display. 


These  are  thy  products,  fair  Britannia,  these 
Tho  copious  blessings,  which  thy  envied  sons, 
Divided  and  distinguished  from  the  world, 
Secure  and  free,  beneath  just  laws,  enjoy, 
Nor  dread  tho  ravage  of  destructive  war  ; 
Nor  black  contagion's  pestilential  breath  ;  [towns. 
Nor  rending  earth's  convulsions,  —  fields,  flocks, 
Swallowed  abrupt,  in  ruin's  frightful  jaws  ; 
Nor  worse,  far  worse  than  all,  the  iron  hand 
Of  lawless  power,  stretched  o'er  precarious  wealth, — 
Lands,  liberty,  and  life,  the  wanton  prey 
Of  its  enormous,  unresisted  gripe. 

But  further  now  in  vegetation's  paths,       [crops. 
Through  cultured  fields,  and  woods,  and  waving 
The  wearied  muse  forbears  to  wind  her  walk. 
To  flocks  and  herds  her  future  strains  aspire, 
And  let  tho  listening  hinds  instructed  hear 
The  closing  precepts  of  her  labored  song. 


Lo  !  on  the  other  side  yon  slanting  hill, 
Beneath  a  spreading  oak's  broad  foliage,  sits 
The  shepherd  swain,  and  patient  by  his  side 
His  watchful  dog  ;  while  round  the  nibbling  flocks 
Spread  their  white  fleeces  o'er  tho  verdant  slope, 
A  landscape  pleasing  to  the  painter's  eye. 
Mark  his  maternal  care.     The  tender  race. 
Of  heat  impatient,  as  of  pinching  cold 
Afraid,  he  shelters  from  the  rising  sun. 
Beneath  the  mountain's  western  side  ;  and  when 
The  evening  beam  shoots  eastward,  turning  seeks 
The  alternate  umbrage.     Now  to  the  sweetest  food 
Of  fallowed  fields  he  leads,  and  nightly  folds. 
To  enrich  the  exhausted  soil  :  defending  safe 
From  murderous  thieves,  and  from  the  prowling  fox. 
Their  helple: 


DISEASES  OF  SmiEP  J  MASGE   CURED  WITH  TOBACCO  ;  VEBMI 

His  skilful  eye 
Studious  explores  the  latent  ills  which  prey 
Upon  the  bleating  nation.     The  foul  mange 
Infectious,  their  impatient  foot,  by  oft 
Repeated  scratohings,  will  betray.     This  calls 
For  his  immediate  aid,  tho  spreading  taint 
To  stop.     Tobacco,  in  the  briny  wave 
Infused,  affords  a  wash  of  sovereign  use 
To  heal  the  dire  disease.     The  wriggling  tail 
Sure  indication  gives,  that,  bred  beneath, 
Devouring  vermin  lurk  :  these,  or  with  dust 
Or  deadened  lime  besprinkled  thick,  fall  off 
In  smothered  crowds. 

TOE  unuuLV  m  sukep  j  its  symptoms  asd  cvee. 
Diseases  numerous 
Assault  the  harmless  race  :  but  the  chief  fiend. 
Which  taints  with  rottenness  their  inward  frame, 
And  sweeps  them  from  the  plain  in  putrid  heaps, 
ho  smell, —  this,  this  demands 


RURAL    POETRY. DODSLEY. 


His  watchful  care.     If  he  perceives  the  fleece 
In  patches  lost";  if  the  dejected  eye 
Looks  pale  and  languid  ;  if  the  rosy  gums 
Change  to  a  yellow  foulness  ;  and  the  breath, 
Panting  and  short,  emits  a  sickly  stench  ; 
■Warned  by  the  fatal  symptoms,  he  removes 
To  rising  grounds  and  dry  the  tainted  flock  ; 
The  best  expedient  to  restore  that  health 
Which  the  full  pasture,  or  the  low  damp  moor 
Endangered.     But  if  hare  and  barren  hills, 
Or  dry  and  sandy  pl.ains,  too  far  removed. 
Deny  th,  ir  -.ud  --lie  spo«lily  prepares 
Rue's  l.iitr,  jui.T,  «iili  l.viue 


Injecti' 


brimstone  mixed, 
ih  from  an  horn 
rous  malady. 


Cautious  and  fearful, 
Recruit  their  flocks  ;  as 
The  tender  frame  hath 
Ambitious  should  ! 


vc-d. 


early  Spring 
le  wintry  storms 
But  he  whose  ail 
1  the  breed. 


Refulgent  Summer  now  his  hot  domain 
Hath  carried  to  the  tropic,  and  begins 
His  backward  journey.     Now  beneath  the  sun 
Mellowing  their  fleeces  for  the  impending  shears, 
The  woolly  people  in  full  clothing  sweat : 
When  the  smooth  current  of  a  limpid  brook 
The  shepherd  seeks,  and  plunging  in  its  waves 
The  frighted  innocents,  their  whitening  robes 
In  the  clear  stream  grow  pure.     Emerging  hence. 
On  littered  straw  the  bleating  flocks  recline 
Till  glowing  heat  shall  dry,  and  breathing  dews 
Perspiring  soft,  again  through  all  the  fleece 
Diffuse  their  oily  fatness.     Then  the  swain 
Prepares  the  elastic  shears,  and  gently  down 
The  patient  creature  hays  ;  divesting  soon 
Its  lightened  limbs  of  their  encumbering  load. 

S   ORTGIS   OF   BRITISH   COMMERCE. 


BRITISH  WOOL,  THE 

0  more  than  mines  of  gold,  than  diamonds  far 
More  precious,  more  important  is  the  fleece  ! 
This,  this  the  solid  base  on  which  the  sons 
Of  commerce  build,  exalted  to  the  sky, 
The  structure  of  their  grandeur,  wealth,  and  power. 
Hence  in  the  earliest  childhood  of  her  state, 
Ere  yet  her  merchants  spread  the  British  sail, 
To  earth  descending  in  a  radiant  cloud, 
Britannia  seized  the  invaluable  spoil. 
To  ocean's  verge  exulting  swift  she  flew  ; 
There,  on  the  bosom  of  the  bounding  wave. 
Raised  on  her  pearly  car,  fair  commerce  rode 
Sublime,  the  goddess  of  the  watery  world, 
On  every  coast,  in  every  clime  adored. 
High  waving  in  her  hand  the  woolly  prize, 
Britannia  hailed  and  beckoned  to  her  shore 
The  power  benign.     Invited  by  the  fleece, 
From  whence  her  penetrating  eyes  foresaw 
AVhat  mighty  honors  to  her  name  should  rise. 
She  beamed  a  gracious  smilo.    The  obedient  winds. 
Reined  by  her  hand,  conducted  to  the  beach 
Her  sumptuous  car.     But  more  convenient  place 
The  muse  shall  find,  to  sing  the  friendly  league. 
Which,  here  commenced,  to  time's  remotest  age 
1    Shall  bear  the  glory  of  the  British  sail. 


In  fruitful  autumn  stocks  the  bleating  field 
With  buxom  ewes,  that,  to  their  soft  desires 
Indulgent,  he  may  give  the  noblest  rams. 
Yet  not  too  early  in  the  genial  sport 
Invite  the  modest  ewe  ;  let  Michael's  feast 
Commemorate  the  deed  ;  lest  the  cold  hand 
Of  Winter  pinch  too  hard  the  uew-yeaned  lamb. 

HOW  TO   CHOOSE  A  RA.M  ',   GOOD   POINTS  ",    FIGHT. 

How  nice,  how  delicate  appears  his  choice. 
When  fixing  on  the  sire  to  raise  his  flock  ! 
His  shape,  his  marks,  how  curious  he  surveys  ! 
His  body  large  and  deep,  his  buttocks  broad, 
Give  indication  of  internal  strength  ; 
Be  short  his  leg,  yet  active  ;  small  his  head  ; 
So  shall  Lucina's  pains  less  pungent  prove, 
And  less  the  hazard  of  the  teeming  ewe  ! 
Long  be  his  tail,  and  large  his  wool-grown  ear  ; 
Thic\,  shining,  white,  his  fleece  ;  his  hazel  eye 
Large,  bold,  and  cheerful  ;  and  his  horns,  if  horns 
You  choose,  not  straight,  but  curving  round  and 

round 
On  either  side  his  head.     These  the  sole  arms 
His  inoffensive  mildness  bears  ;  not  made 
For  shedding  blood,  nor  hostile  war  ;  yet  these. 
When  love,    all-powerful,   swells   his  breast,  and 
Into  his  heart  new  courage,  these  he  aims,     [pours 
With  meditated  fury,  at  his  foe. 

In  glowing  colors,  here  the  tempted  muse 
Might  paint  the  rushing  conflict,  when,  provoked. 
The  rival  rams,  opposing  front  to  front. 
Spring  forth  with  desperate  madness  to  the  fight : 
But  as  deterred  by  the  superior  bard. 
Whose  steps,  at  awful  distance,  I  revere. 
Nor  dare  to  tread  ;  so  by  the  thundering  strife 
Of  his  majestic  fathers  of  the  herd. 
My  feebler  combatants  appalled  retreat. 

MlLCH  COWS  5  MILKING. 

At  leisure  now,  0  let  me  once  again, 
Once,  ere  I  leave  the  cultivated  fields, 
My  favorite  Patty,  in  her  dairy's  pride. 
Revisit  ;  and  the  generous  steeds  which  grace 
The  pastures  of  her  swain,  well  pleased,  survey. 
The  lowing  kine,  see,  at  their  'customed  hour, 
Wait  the  returning  pail.    The  rosy  maids. 
Crouching  beneath  their  sides,  in  copious  streams 
Exhaust  the  swelling  udder.     Vessels  large 
And  broad,  by  the  sweet  hand  of  neatness  cleaned, 
Meanwhile,  in  decent  order  ranged,  appear. 
The  milky  treasure,  strained  through  filtering  lawn, 
Intended  to  receive. 

pilRT  WORK  DESCRIBED  -,   PATTY  MAKING  EDTTEB. 

At  early  day. 
Sweet  slumber  shaken  from  her  opening  lids. 
My  lovely  Patty  to  her  dairy  hies  : 


SPRING  —  APRIL. 


Thoro  from  the  surface  of  expanded  bowls 
She  skims  the  floating  orcam,  and  to  her  churn 
Commits  the  rich  consistence  ;  nor  disdains, 
Though  soft  her  hand,  though  delicate  her  frame. 
To  urge  the  rural  toil  ;  fond  to  obtain 
The  country  housewife's  name  and  praise. 
Continued  agitation  sep'ratos  soon 
The  unctuous  particles  ;  with  gentler  strokes. 
And  artful,  soon  thoy  coalesce  ;  at  length. 
Cool  water  pouring  from  the  limpid  spring 
Into  a  smooth-glazed  vessel,  deep  and  wide. 
She  gathers  the  loose  fragments  to  an  heap  ; 
Which  in  the  cleansing  wave  well  wrought,  and 
To  one  consistent  golden  mass,  receives       [pressed 
The  sprinkled  seasoning,  and  of  parts,  or  pounds. 
The  fair  impression,  the  neat  shape  assumes. 

CBEESE-XIKINO. 

Is  cheese   her  care  ?     Warm  from  the  teat  she 
The  milky  flood.     An  acid  juice  infused,         [pours 
From  the  dried  stomach  drawn  of  suckling  calf,' 
Coagulates  the  whole.     Immediate  now 
Her  spreading  hands  bear  down  the  gathering  curd. 
Which  hard  and  harder  grows  ;  till,  clear  and  thin. 
The  green  whey  rises  separate.     Happy  swains  ! 
0,  how  I  envy  ye  the  luscious  draught. 
The  soft  salubrious  beverage  !     To  a  vat, 
The  size  and  fashion  which  her  taste  approves, 
She  bears  the  snow-white  heaps,  her  future  cheese  ; 
And  the  strong  press  establishes  its  form. 


But  nicer  cates,  her  dairy's  boasted  fare. 
The  jellied  cream,  or  custard,  daintiest  food, 
Or  cheese-cake,  or  the  cooling  syllabub. 
For  'I'hyrsis  she  prepares  ;  who  from  the  field. 
Returning,  with  the  kiss  of  love  sincere, 
Salutes  her  rosy  lip.     A  tender  look, 
Meantime,  and  cheerful  smiles  his  welcome  speak: 
Down  to  their  frugal  board  contentment  sits. 
And  calls  it  feasting.     Prattling  infants  dear 
Engage  their  fond  regard,  and  closer  tie 
The  baud  of  nuptial  love.     They,  happy,  feel 
Eaeh  other's  bliss,  and,  both  in  different  spheres 
Employed,  nor  seek  nor  wish  that  cheating  charm. 
Variety,  which  idlers  to  their  aid 
Call  iu,  to  make  the  length  of  lazy  lifo 
Drag  on  less  heavily.     Domestic  cares. 
Her  children  and  her  dairy,  well  divide 
The  appropriated  hours,  and  duty  makes 
Employment  pleasure.     He,  delighted,  gives 
Each  busy  season  of  the  rolling  year. 
To  raise,  to  feed,  to  improve  the  generous  horse  ; 
And  fit  for  various  use  his  strength  or  speed. 


Dull,  patient,  heavy,  of  large  limbs,  robust. 
Whom  neither  beauty  marks,  nor  spirits  fire  : 
Him,  to  the  servile  toil  of  dragging  slow 
The  burdened  carriage  ;  or  to  drudge  beneath 


A  ponderous  load  imposed,  his  justice  dooms. 
Yet,  straining  in  the  enormous  cjirs  which  crowd 
Thy  bustling  streets,  Augusta,  queen  of  trade, 
What  noble  beasts  are  scon  !  sweating  beneath 
Their  toil,  they  tremble  at  the  driver's  whip. 
Urged  with  malicious  fury  on  the  parts 
Where  feeling  lives  most  sensible  of  pain. 
Fell  tyrants,  hold  !  forbear  your  hell-born  rage  ! 
See  ye  not  every  sinew,  every  nerve. 
Stretched  e'en  to  bursting?     Villains!  —  but  the 
Quick  from  the  savage  rufiians  turns  her  eye,  [muse 
Frowning  indignant.     Steeds  of  hardier  kind. 
And  cool  though  sprightly,  to  the  travelled  road 
He  destines  ;  sure  of  foot,  of  steady  pace, 
Active,  and  persevering,  uncompelled. 
The  tedious  length  of  many  a  beaten  mile. 


But  not  alone  to  these  inferior  tribes 
The  ambitious  swain  confines  his  generous  breed. 
Hark  !  in  his  fields,  when  now  the  distant  sounds 
Of  winding  horns,  and  dogs,  and  huntmen's  shout, 
Awake  the  sense,  his  kindling  hunter  neighs  ; 
Quick  start  his  ears  erect,  his  beating  heart 
E.\ults,  his  light  limbs  bound,  he  bears  aloft. 
Raised  by  tunuiltuous  joy,  his  tossing  head  ; 
Aii'l  ;iII-liii|Mn.  rii  i",,r  the  well-knoivn  sport, 
L'  M     !       I  ill  ■   '      ,  ;iiid,  listening  to  the  cry, 
I'lii    J  I         1   t  nv  speed  the  chase. 

Str  '    . '  I  t!,  ■  jl  nil  Ih-  sweeps,  nor  hedge  nor  ditch 
Obstructs  his  eager  flight ;   nor  straining  hills, 
Nor  headlong  steeps  deter  the  vig'rous  steed  : 
Till  joined  at  length,  associate  of  the  sport, 
He  mingles  with  the  train,  stops  as  they  stop. 
Pursues  as  they  pursue,  and  all  the  wild, 
Enlivening  raptures  of  the  field  enjoys. 


Easy  in  motion,  perfect  in  his  form. 
His  boasted  lineage  drawn  from  steeds  of  blood. 
He  the  fleet  courser,  too,  exulting  shows. 
And  points  with  pride  his  beauties.     Neatly  set 
His  lively  head,  and  glowing  in  his  eye 
True  spirit  lives.     His  nostril  wide  inhales 
With  ease  the  ambient  air.     His  body  firm 
And  round  ;  upright  his  joints  ;  his  horny  hoofs 
Small,  shining,  light ;  and  large  his  ample  reach. 
His   limbs,    though   slender,    braced   with   sinewy 

strength, 
Declare  his  winged  speed.     His  temper  mild. 
Yet  high  his  mettled  heart.     Hence  in  the  race 
All  emulous,  he  hears  the  clashing  whips  ; 
He  feels  the  animating  shouts  ;  exerts 
With  eagerness  his  utmost  powers  ;  and  strains. 
And  springs,  and  flies,  to  reach  the  destined  go<u. 


But,  lo  !  the  boast,  the  glory  of  his  stalls. 
His  warrior  steed  appears.     What  comely  pridCj 
What  dignity,  what  grace,  attend  on  all 
His  motions  !     See  !  exulting  in  his  strength, 


70 


RURAL    POETRY. DODSLEY TTJSSER. 


He  paws  the  ground  impatient.     On  his  brow 

Courage  enthroned  sits,  and  animates 

His  fearless  eye.     He  bends  his  arched  crest, 

His  mane  loose-flowing,  ruflies  in  the  wind, 

Clothing  his  chest  with  fury.     Proud,  he  snorts, 

Champs  on  the  foaming  bit,  and  prancing  high, 

Disdainful  seems  to  tread  the  sordid  earth. 

Yet  hears  he  and  obeys  his  master  voice. 

All  gentleness  :  and  feels,  with  conscious  pride. 

His  dappled  neck  clapped  with  a  cheering  hand. 

THE  CAVALRY  CHARGE     DESCRIBED  ;     THE   DCTKE    OF   CUMBER- 

But  when  the  battle's  martial  sounds  invade 
His  ear,  when  drums  and  trumpets  loud  proclaim 
The  rushing  onset ;  when  thick  smoke,  when  fire, 
Burst  thundering  from  the  cannon's  awful  mouth  ; 
Then  all  inspired  he  kindles  into  flame  ! 
Intrepid,  neighs  aloud  ;  and,  panting,  seems 
Impatient  to  express  his  swelling  joys 
Unutterable.     On  danger's  brink  he  stands. 
And  mocks  at  fear.     Then  springing  with  delight. 
Plunges  into  the  wild  confusion.     Terror  flies 
Before  his  dreadful  front ;  and  in  his  rear 
Destruction  marks  her  bloody  progress.     Such, 
Such  was  the  steed  thou,  Cumberland,  bestrod'st, 
When  black  rebellion  fell  beneath  thy  hand, 
Rome  and  her  papal  tyranny  subdued. 


On  great  Cullodeu's  memorable  field.  [throne 

Such  thine,  unconquered  Marlborough,  when  the 
Of  Louis  tottered,  and  thy  glittering  steel 
On  Blenheim's  plain  iihmortal  trophies  reaped. 

TRIBUTE  TO  THE  KING  ;    ENGLAND  IS  WAR  AND  PEACE  J   FARM- 


And  such,  0  prince  !  *  great  patron  of  my  theme. 
Should  e'er  insidious  France  again  presume 
On  Europe's  freedom,  such,  though  all  averse 
To  slaughtering  war,  thy  country  shall  present 
To  bear  her  hero  to  the  martial  plain, 
Armed  with  the  sword  of  justice.     Other  cause 
Ne'er  shall  ambition's  sophistry  persuade 
Thine  honor  to  espouse.     Britannia's  peace  ; 
Her  sacred  rights  ;  her  just,  her  equal  laws  : 
These,  these  alone,  to  cherish  or  defend. 
Shall  raise  thy  youthful  arm,  and  wake  to  war. 
To  dreadful  war,  the  British  lion's  rage. 

But  milder  stars  on  thy  illustrious  birth 
Their  kindest  influence  shed.     Beneath  the  smile 
Of  thy  indulgence,  the  protected  arts 
Lifting  their  graceful  heads  —  her  envied  sail 
Fair  commerce  spreading  to  remotest  climes  — 
And  plenty  rising  from  the  encouraged  plough  — 
Shall  feed,  enrich,  adorn,  the  happy  land. 


tiusscr's   "l^pil's   iitsir 


aiiBriK 


*     *     If  April  be  dripping,  then  do  I  not  hate, 
For  him  that  hath  little,  his  fallowing  late  ; 
Else  otherwise,  fallowing  timely  is  best. 
For  saving  of  cattle,  of  plough,  and  the  rest. 
Be  suer  of  plough  to  be  ready  at  hand. 
Ere  oompas'  ye  spread  that  on  hillocks  did  stand  ; 
Lest  drying,  so  lying,  do  make  it  decay. 
Ere  ever  much  water  do  wash  it  away.     *     * 
Get  into  thy  hop-yard  with  plenty  of  poles, 
Among  those  same  hillocks  divide  them  by  doles. 
Three  poles  to  a  hillock  (I  pass  not  how  long). 
Shall  yield  thee  more  profit,  set  deeply  and  strong. 
Sell  bark  to  the  tanner  ere  timber  ye  fell ; 
Cut  low  by  the  ground,  else  do  ye  not  well. 
In  breaking,  save  crooked,  for  mill  and  for  ships  ; 
And  ever,  in  hewing,  save  carpentei-'s  chips. 
First  see  it  well  fenced,  ere  hewers  begin  ; 
Then  see  it  well  stadled,''  without  and  within  ;   *  * 
Leave  growing  for  stadles  the  likest  and  best. 
Though  seller  and  buyer  dispatched  the  rest.    *    * 

1  2  '  Cotnnas  '  means  compost  manure.    To  '  stadle '  is, 


Save  elm,  ash,  crab-tree,  for  cart  and  for  plough  ; 

Save  step  for  a  stile,  of  the  crotch  of  the  bough  : 

Save  hazel  for  forks,  save  sallow  for  rake  ; 

Save  hulver  ^  and  thorn,  thereof  flail  to  make.  *  * 

The  land  is  well  hearted,  with  help  of  the  fold, 

For  one  or  two  crops,  if  so  long  it  will  hold. 

If  shepherd  would  keep  them  from  'stroying  of  corn, 

The  walk  of  his  sheep  might  the  better  be  borne. 

Where  stones  be  1 

Make  servant  con 

By  daily  so  doing  have  plenty  ye  shall. 

Both  handsome  for  paving,  and  good  for  a  wall. 

From  April  beginning,  till  Andrew  =  be  past. 

So  long  with  good  huswife  her  dairy  doth  last  ; 

Good  milch-cow  and  pasture  good  husbands  provide, 

The  res'due,  good  huswives  know  best  how  to  guide. 

Ill  huswife,  unskilful,  to  make  her  own  cheese, 

Through  trusting  of  others,  has  this  for  her  fees  : 

Her  milk-pan  and  cream-pot  so  slabbered  and  sost,^ 

That  butter  is  wanting,  and  cheese  is  half  lost.  *  * 


J  antique  r 


for  holly. 
November  30.     '  Sost '  means  sn-illed  J 
word  still  heard  in  New  England. 


liinil   ''*SMi\tis  for 


^P 


BLOOMFIELD'S    "  ABNER    AND    THE 
WIDOW  JONES.'' 

Well!  I'm  dotonuiDed  ;  that's  enough  :  — 
Gee,  Bayard  !  move  your  poor  old  bones  ; 

I  'U  take  to-morrow,  smooth  or  rough, 
To  go  and  court  the  Widow  Jones. 

Our  master  talks  of  stable-room, 
And  younger  horses  on  his  grounds  ; 

'T  is  easy  to  foresee  thy  doom,  — 

Bayard,  thou  'it  go  to  feed  the  hounds. 

But  could  I  win  the  widow's  hand, 

I  'd  make  a  truce  'twixt  death  and  thee  ; 

For  thou  upon  tho  best  of  land 

Shouldst  feed,  and  live  and  die  with  me. 

And  must  tho  pole-axe  lay  theo  low  ? 

And  will  they  pick  thy  poor  old  bones  ? 
No  —  hang  me  if  it  shall  bo  so, 

If  I  can  win  the  Widow  Jones. 

Twirl  went  his  stick  ;  his  curly  pato 

A  bran-new  hat  uplifted  bore  ; 
And  Abner,  as  he  leapt  the  gate, 

Had  never  looked  so  gay  before. 

And  every  spark  of  love  revived 

That  had  perplexed  him  long  ago. 
When  busy  folks  and  fools  contrived 

To  make  his  Mary  answer  —  No. 

But  whether,  freed  from  recent  vows. 
Her  heart  had  back  to  Abuer  flown, 

And  marked  him  for  a  second  spouse, 
In  truth  is  not  exactly  known. 

Howbeit,  as  he  came  in  sight. 

She  turned  her  from  the  garden  stile, 

And  downward  looked  with  pure  delight, 
With  half  a  sigh  and  half  a  smile. 

She  heard  his  sounding  step  behind  ; 

The  blush  of  joy  crept  up  her  cheek. 
As  cheerly  floated  on  the  wind, 

'  Hoi !  Mary  Jones  —  what,  won't  you  speak  ? ' 

Then,  with  a  look  that  ne'er  deceives. 
She  turned,  but  found  her  courage  fled  ; 

And  scolding  sparrows  from  tho  eaves 
Peeped  forth  upon  the  stranger's  head. 

Down  Abner  sat,  with  glowing  heart. 

Resolved,  whatever  might  betide, 
To  speak  his  mind,  —  no  other  art 

He  ever  knew,  or  ever  tried. 


And  gently  twitching  Mary's  hand, — 
The  bench  hod  ample  room  for  two,  — 

His  first  word  made  her  understand 
The  ploughman's  errand  was  to  woo. 

*  My  Mary  —  may  I  call  thee  so  ? 

For  many  a  happy  day  wo  've  seen, 
And  if  not  mine,  ay,  years  ago, 

M''hose  vrii»  the  fault  ?  —  you  might  have  been. 

*  All  that 's  gone  by  :  but  I  'vo  been  musing, 

And  vowed,  and  hoi>e  to  keep  it  true, 
That  she  shall  be  my  own  heart's  choosing, 
Whom  I  call  wife.  —  Hey,  what  say  you  ? 

*  And  as  I  drove  my  plough  along, 

And  felt  the  strength  that 's  in  my  arm, 
Ten  years,  thought  I,  amidst  my  song, 

I  'vc  been  head-man  at  Harewood  farm. 
'And,  now  my  own  dear  Mary's  free, 

Wlioin  T  have  loved  this  many  a  day, 
Who  knows  but  ^he  may  think  on  me  ? 

I  '11  go  hear  what  sho  has  to  say. 

*  Perhaps  that  little  stock  of  land 

She  holds,  but  knows  not  how  to  till, 
Will  suffer  in  the  widow's  hand, 

And  make  poor  Mary  poorer  still. 
'That  scrap  of  land,  with  one  like  her, 

How  we  might  live  !  and  be  so  blest ! 
And  who  should  Jlary  Jones  prefer  ? 

Why,  surely,  him  who  loves  her  best  ! 

'  Therefore,  I  'm  come  to  night,  sweet  wench, 

I  would  not  idly  thus  intrude,'  — 
Mary  looked  downward  on  the  bench, 

O'crpowered  by  lovo  and  gratitude. 
Sho  leaned  her  head  against  the  vine, 

With  quickening  sobs  of  silent  bliss  : 
Till  Abner  cried,  '  You  must  bo  mine  ; 

You  must,*  —  and  sealed  it  with  a  kis5. 

Sho  talked  of  shame,  and  wiped  her  cheek  ; 

But  what  had  shame  with  them  to  do, 
Who  nothing  meant  but  truth  to  speak. 

And  downright  honor  to  pursue  ? 
His  eloquence  improved  apace, 

As  manly  pity  filled  his  mind  ; 
'  You  know  poor  Bayard  ;  here 's  tho  case,  — 

He  's  past  his  labor,  old,  and  blind  : 
'  If  you  and  I  should  but  agree 

To  settle  here  for  good  and  all, 
Could  you  give  all  your  heart  to  me, 

And  grudge  that  poor  old  rogue  a  stall  ! 


72 


RURAL  POETRY. BLOOMFIELD. 


'  I  '11  buy  him,  for  the  dogs  shall  ne 

Set  tooth  upon  a  friend  so  true  ; 
He  '11  not  live  long,  but  I  forever 


Shall  know  ; 


the  beast  1 


'  'jMongst  all  I  've  known  of  ploughs  and  carts, 
And  ever  since  I  learned  to  drive. 

He  was  not  matched  in  all  these  parts  ; 
There  was  not  such  a  horse  alive  ! 

*  Ready  as  birds  to  meet  the  mom. 

Were  all  his  efforts  at  the  plough  ; 
Then,  the  mill-brook  with  hay  or  corn. 

Good  creature  !  how  he  'd  spatter  through  ! 

*  He  was  a  horse  of  mighty  power, 

Compact  in  frame,  and  strong  of  limb  ; 
Went  with  a  chirp  from  hour  to  hour  ; 

Whip-cord  !  't  was  never  made  for  him. 
'  I  left  him  in  the  shafts  behind, 

His  fellows  all  unhooked  and  gone  ; 
He  neighed,  and  deemed  the  thing  unkind. 

Then,  starting,  drew  the  load  alone  ! 
'  But  I  might  talk  till  pitch-dark  night, 

And  then  have  something  left  to  say  ; 
But,  Mary,  am  I  wrong  or  right. 

Or,  do  I  throw  my  words  away  ? 
'  Leave  me,  or  take  me  and  my  horse  ; 

I  've  told  thee  truth,  and  all  I  know  : 
Truth  should  breed  truth  ;  that  comes  of  course 

If  I  sow  wheat,  why,  wheat  will  grow. 
'  Yes,  Abner,  but  thus  soon  to  yield, 

Neighbors  would  fleer  and  look  behind  'em 
Though,  with  a  husband  in  the  field, 

Perhaps,  indeed,  I  should  not  mind  'em. 

*  I  've  known  your  generous  nature  well. 

My  first  denial  cost  me  dear  ; 
How  this  may  end  we  cannot  tell, 

But,  as  for  Bayard,  bring  him  here.' 
'  Bless  thee  for  that  ! '  the  ploughman  cried. 

At  once  both  starting  from  the  seat ; 
He  stood  a  guardian  by  her  side. 

But  talked  of  home,  —  't  was  growing  late. 
Then  step  for  step  within  his  arm. 

She  cheered  him  down  the  dewy  way  ; 
And  no  two  birds  upon  the  farm 

E'er  prated  with  more  joy  than  they. 
What  news  at  home  ?     The  smile  he  wore 

One  little  sentence  turned  to  sorrow  ; 
An  order  met  him  at  the  door, 

'  Take  Bayard  to  the  dogs  to-morrow.' 
Yes,  yes,  thought  he,  and  heaved  a  sigh  ; 

Die  when  he  will  he  's  not  your  debtor  : 
I  must  obey,  and  he  must  die,  — 

That 's  if  I  can't  contrive  it  better. 
He  left  his  Mary  late  at  night. 

And  had  succeeded  in  the  main  ; 
No  sooner  peeped  the  morning  light 

But  he  was  on  the  road  again  ! 


Suppose  she  should  refuse  her  hand  ? 

Such  thoughts  will  come,  I  know  not  why  ; 
Shall  I,  without  a  wife  or  land, 

Want  an  old  horse  ?  —  then,  wherefore  buy  ? 
From  bush  to  bush,  from  stile  to  stile. 

Perplexed  he  trod  the  fallow  ground. 
And  told  his  money  all  the  while. 

And  weighed  the  matter  round  and  round. 
'I'll  borrow,'  that's  the  best  thought  yet ; 

Mary  shall  save  the  horse's  life.  — 
Kind-hearted  wench  !  what,  run  in  debt 

Before  I  know  she  'II  be  my  wife  ? 
These  women  won't  speak  plain  and  free.  — 

Well,  well,  I  '11  keep  my  service  still  ; 
She  has  not  said  she  'd  marry  me. 

But  yet  I  dare  to  say  she  will. 
But  while  I  take  this  shay-brained  course. 

And  like  a  fool  run  to  and  fro, 
Master,  perhaps,  may  sell  the  horse  ! 

Therefore,  this  instant  home  I  '11  go. 
The  nightly  rain  had  drenched  the  grove, 

He  plunged  right  on  with  headlong  pace  ; 
A  man  but  half  as  much  in  love 

Perhaps  had  found  a  cleaner  place. 
The  day  rose  fair  ;  with  team  a-field. 

He  watched  the  farmer's  cheerful  brow  ; 
And  in  a  lucky  hour  revealed 

His  secret  at  his  post,  —  the  plough. 
And  there  without  a  whine  began, 

'  Master,  you  '11  give  me  your  advice  ; 
I  'm  going  to  marry  —  if  I  can  — 

And  want  old  Bayard  ;  what 's  his  price  ? 
'  For  Maty  Jones  last  night  agreed. 

Or  near  upon  't,  to  be  my  wife  : 
The  horse's  value  I  don't  heed, 

I  only  want  to  save  his  life.' 
'  Buy  him,  hey  !     Abner,  trust  me,  I 

Have  not  the  thought  of  gain  in  view  ; 
Bayard's  best  days  we  've  seen  go  by  ; 

He  shall  be  cheap  enough  to  you.' 
The  wages  paid,  the  horse  brought  out. 

The  hour  of  separation  come  ; 
The  farmer  turned  bis  chair  about,  — 

*  Good  fellow,  take  him,  — take  him  home. 
•  You  're  welcome,  Abner,  to  the  beast. 

For  you  've  a  faitnful  servant  been  ; 
They  '11  thrive,  I  doubt  not  in  the  least, 

Who  know  what  work  and  service  mean.' 
The  maids  at  parting,  one  and  all. 

From  different  windows  different  tones, 
Bade  him  farewell  with  many  a  bawl, 

And  sent  their  love  to  Mary  Jones. 
He  waved  his  hat,  and  turaed  away, 

When  loud  the  cry  of  children  rose  ; 
'  Abner,  good-by  ! '  they  stopt  their  play  ; 

'  There  goes  poor  Bayard  !  —  there  he  goes  !  * 


SPRING  —  APRIL. 


73 


Half  ohokcd  with  joy,  with  lovo,  and  pridO; 

IIo  now  with  duintj  clover  fed  him, 
Now  took  a  short  triumphant  ride, 

And  then  again  got  down  and  led  him. 

And  hobbling  onward  up  the  hill, 

The  widow's  house  was  full  in  sight. 
He  pulled  the  bridle  harder  still, 

'  Como  on,  we  shan't  bo  there  to-night.' 
She  met  them  with  a  smile  so  sweet. 

The  stable-door  was  open  thrown  ; 
The  blind  horse  lifted  high  his  feet, 

And,  loudly  snorting,  laid  him  down. 

0,  Vietory  !  from  that  stock  of  laurels 
You  keep  so  snug  for  camps  and  thrones. 

Spare  us  one  twitj  from  all  their  quarrels. 
For  Abuer  and  the  AVidow  Jones. 


TICKELL-S  "LCCY  AND  COLIN.' 

A    BALLAD. 
Of  Leinster,  famed  for  maidens  fair. 

Bright  Lucy  was  the  grace  : 
Nor  e'er  did  Liffcy's  limpid  stream 

Reflect  so  fair  a  face. 

Till  luckless  love  and  pining  care 

Impaired  her  rosy  hue. 
Her  coral  lips  and  damask  cheeks, 

And  eyes  of  glossy  blue. 

0,  have  you  seen  a  lily  pale, 
"When  beating  rains  descend  ? 

So  drooped  the  slow-consuming  maid. 
Her  life  now  near  its  end. 

By  Lucy  warned,  of  flattering  swains 

Take  heed,  you  easy  fair  ; 
Of  vengeance  due  to  broken  vows, 

Ye  perjured  swains,  beware. 

Three  times,  all  in  the  dead  of  night, 

A  bell  was  heard  to  rjng. 
And  shrieking  at  her  window  thrico 

A  raven  flapped  his  wing. 

Too  well  the  love-lorn  maiden  knew 

The  solemn  boding  sound. 
And  thus  in  dying  words  bespoko 

The  virgins  weeping  round  : 

I  hear  a  voice  you  cannot  hear. 
Which  says  I  must  not  stay  ; 

I  see  a  hand  you  cannot  see, 
Which  beckons  me  away. 

By  a  false  heart  and  broken  vows. 

In  early  youth  I  die  : 
Am  I  to  blame  because  his  bride 

Is  thrice  as  rich  as  I  ? 


Ah,  Colin  !  give  not  her  thy  vows, 

Vows  duo  to  me  alone  ; 
Nor  thou,  fond  maid,  receive  the  kiss. 

Nor  think  him  all  thy  own. 

To-morrow  in  the  church  to  wed. 

Impatient,  both  prepare  ; 
But  know,  fond  maid,  and  know,  false  man. 

That  Lucy  will  be  there  ! 

There  bear  my  corse,  ye  comrades,  bear. 
The  bridegroom  blithe  to  meet ; 

He  in  hia  wedding  trim  ao  gay, 
I  in  my  winding  ahect. 

She  spoke,  sho  died  !  —  her  corso  was  home. 
The  bridegroom  blithe  to  meet  — 

Ho  in  his  wedding  trim  so  gay, 
She  in  her  winding  sheet. 

Then  what  were  perjured  Colin's  thoughts? 

How  were  those  nuptials  kept  ? 
The  bridemen  flocked  round  Lucy  dead. 

And  all  the  village  wept. 

f^niTi    i   II.  -1i  ihii  ,  remorse,  despair, 


From  the  vain  bride  —  all,  bride  no  more  ! 

The  varying  crimson  fled  ; 
When,  stretched  before  her  rival's  corse, 

She  saw  her  husband  dead. 

He  to  his  Lucy's  new-made  grave. 
Conveyed  by  trembling  swains. 

One  mould  with  her,  beneath  one  sod. 
Forever  now  remains. 

Oft  at  this  grave  the  constant  hind 

And  plighted  maid  are  seen  ; 
With  garlands  gay,  and  true-love  knota. 

They  deck  the  sacred  green. 

But,  swain  forsworn  !  whoe'er  thou  art. 

This  hallowed  spot  forbear  ; 
Remember  Colin's  dreadful  fate, 

And  fear  to  meet  him  there. 


BLOOMFIELD'S  "  FAKENHAM   GHOST." 

The  lawns  were  dry  in  Enston  park  ;  — 
Here  truth  •  inspires  my  tale  — 

The  lonely  footpath,  still  and  dark. 
Led  over  hill  and  dale. 

Benighted  was  an  ancient  dame. 

And  fearful  haste  she  made 
To  gain  the  vaie  of  Fakenham, 

And  hail  its  willow  shade. 


10 


RURAL  POETRY.  —  BLOOMFIELD. 


Her  footsteps  knew  no  idle  stops, 

But  followed  faster  still  ; 
And  echoed  to  the  darksome  copse 

That  whispered  on  the  hill  ; 

Where  clam'rous  rooks,  yet  scarcely  hushed, 

Bespoke  a  peopled  shade. 
And  many  a  wing  the  foliage  brushed, 

And  hovering  circuits  made. 

The  dappled  herd  of  grazing  deer, 

That  sought  the  shades  by  day, 
Now  started  from  her  path  with  fear, 

And  gave  the  stranger  way. 

Darker  it  grew  ;  and  darker  fears 

Came  o'er  her  troubled  mind, 
When  now,  a  short  quick  step  she  hears 

Come  patting  close  behind. 

She  turned  ;  it  stopped  —  naught  could  she  st 

Upon  the  gloomy  plain  ! 
But  as  she  strove  the  sprite  to  flee. 

She  heard  the  same  again  ! 

Now  terror  seized  her  quaking  frame  ; 

For,  where  the  path  was  bare, 
The  trotting  Ghost  kept  on  the  same  ! 

She  muttered  many  a  prayer. 

Yet  once  again,  amidst  her  fright, 

She  tried  what  sight  could  do  ; 
When  through  the  cheating  glooms  of  night, 

A  monster  stood  in  view  ! 

Regardless  of  whate'er  she  felt, 

It  followed  down  the  plain  ! 
She  owned  her  sins,  and  down  she  knelt. 

And  said  her  prayers  again. 

Then  on  she  sped,  and  hope  grew  strong  — 

The  white  park  gate  in  view  ; 
Which  pushing  hard,  so  long  it  swung. 

That  Ghost  and  all  passed  through  ! 

Loud  fell  the  gate  against  the  post ! 

Her  heart-strings  like  to  crack  ; 
For  much  she  feared  the  grisly  Ghost 

Would  leap  upon  her  back  ! 

Still  on,  pat,  pat,  the  goblin  went. 

As  it  had  done  before  :  — 
Her  strength  and  resolution  spent, 

She  fainted  at  the  door. 

Out  came  her  husband  much  surprised,  — 

Out  came  her  daughter  dear  ; 
Good-natured  souls  !  all  unadvised 

Of  what  they  had  to  fear  ! 


The  candle's  gleam  pierced  through  the  night, 

Some  short  space  o'er  the  green. 
And  there  the  little  trotting  sprite 

Distinctly  might  be  seen. 

An  Ass's  Foal  had  lost  its  dam 

Within  the  spacious  park. 
And,  simple  as  the  playful  lamb. 

Had  followed  in  the  dark. 

No  goblin  he  ;  no  imp  of  sin  ; 

No  crimes  had  ever  known. 
They  took  the  shaggy  stranger  in, 

And  reared  him  as  their  own. 

His  little  hoofs  would  rattle  roimd 

Upon  the  cottage  floor  ; 
The  matron  learned  to  love  the  sound 

That  frightened  her  before. 

A  favorite  the  Ghost  became, 

And  't  was  his  fate  to  thrive  ; 
And  long  he  lived  and  spread  his  fame. 

And  kept  the  joke  alive. 

For  many  a  laugh  went  through  the  vale. 

And  some  conviction  too  :  — 
Each  thought  some  other  goblin  tale, 

Perhaps,  was  just  as  true. 


BLOOMFIELD'S   '*  ROSY   HANNAH." 

A  SPRING  o'erhung  with  many  a  flower. 

The  gray  sand  dancing  in  its  bed, 
Embanked  beneath  a  hawthorn  bower. 

Sent  forth  its  waters  near  my  head  : 
A  rosy  lass  approached  my  view  ; 

I  caught  her  blue  eye's  modest  beam  : 
The  stranger  nodded  *  how  d'  ye  do  !  ' 

And  leaped  across  the  infant  stream. 
The  water  heedless  passed  away  : 

With  me  her  glowing  image  staid  ; 
I  strove,  from  that  auspicious  day, 

To  meet  and  bless  the  lovely  maid. 
I  met  her  where,  beneath  our  feet. 

Through  downy  moss,  the  wild  thyme  grew; 
Nor  moss  elastic,  flowers  though  sweet, 

Matched  Hannah's  cheek  of  rosy  hue. 

I  met  her  where  the  dark  woods  wave. 

And  shaded  verdure  skirts  the  plain  ; 
And  when  the  pale  moon,  rising,  gave 

New  glories  to  her  cloudy  train. 
From  her  sweet  cot  upon  the  moor 

Our  plighted  vows  to  Heaven  are  flown  ; 
Truth  made  me  welcome  at  her  door, 

And  Rosy  Hannah  is  my  own. 


Jiicr's   plural   llocins. 


"GRONGAR  inLL.' 


Silent  Nymph  !  with  curious  eyo, 
Who  the  purple  evening  Ho 
On  the  mountain's  lonely  van, 
Beyond  the  noise  of  busy  man. 
Painting  fair  the  form  of  things. 
While  the  yellow  linnet  sings, 
Or  the  tuneful  nightingale 
Charms  the  forest  with  her  tnle  ; 
Come,  with  all  thy  various  hues. 
Come,  and  aid  thy  sister  JIuse  ; 
Now,  while  Phoebus,  riding  high, 
Gives  lustre  to  the  land  and  sky, 
Grongar  Hill'  invites  my  song. 
Draw  the  landscape  bright  and  strong  ; 
Grongar  !  in  whose  mossy  cells 
Sweetly  musing  Quiet  dwells  ; 
Grongar  !  in  whose  silent  shade. 
For  the  modest  muses  made. 
So  oft  I  have,  the  evening  still. 
At  the  fountain  of  a  rill, 
Sat  upon  a  flowery  bed, 
With  my  hand  beneath  my  iicad  ; 
While  strayed  my  eyes  o'er  Towy's  2  flooc 
Over  mead  and  over  wood. 
From  house  to  house,  from  hill  to  hill. 
Till  Contemplation  had  her  fill. 

THE  PROSPECT  WIOESrSO  wriH  THE  ASCENT. 

About  his  checkered  sides  I  wind. 
And  leave  his  brooks  and  meads  behind. 
And  groves  and  grottos  where  I  lay. 
And  vistos  shooting  beams  of  day. 
Wide  and  wider  spreads  the  vale. 
As  circles  on  a  smooth  canal  : 
The  mountains  round,  —  unhappy  fate. 
Sooner  or  later,  of  all  height !  — 
Withdraw  their  summits  from  the  skies, 
And  lessen  as  the  others  rise. 
Still  the  prospect  wider  spreads, 
Adds  a  thousand  woods  and  meads  ; 
Still  it  widens,  widens  still. 
And  sinks  the  newly-risen  hill. 


Now  I  gain  the  mountain's  brow  ; 
What  a  landscape  lies  below  ! 
No  clouds,  no  vapors  intervene  ; 
But  the  gay,  the  open  scene. 
Does  the  face  of  nature  show 


In  all  the  hues  of  heaven's  bow  ; 
And,  swelling  to  embrace  the  light, 
Spreads  around  beneath  the  sight. 

Old  castles  on  the  cliflij  arise. 
Proudly  towering  in  the  skies  ; 
Kushing  from  the  woods,  the  spires 
Seem  from  hence  ascending  fires  : 
Half  his  beams  Apollo  sheds 
On  the  yellow  mountain  heads, 
Gilds  the  fleeces  of  the  flocks, 
And  glitters  on  the  broken  rooks. 


Below  me  trees  unnumbered  rise, 
Beautiful  in  various  dyes  : 
The  gloomy  pine,  the  poplar  blue. 
The  yellow  beech,  the  sable  3*ew, 
The  slender  fir  that  taper  grows, 
The  stunly  oak  with  broad-spread  boughs 
And  beyond  the  purple  grove. 
Haunt  of  Phillis,  queen  of  love  ! 
Gaudy  as  the  opening  dawn. 
Lies  a  l<mg  and  level  lawn, 
On  which  a  dark  hill,  steep  and  high,' 
Holds  and  charms  the  wandering  eye. 
Deep  are  his  feet  in  Towy's  flood  ; 
His  sides  are  clothed  with  waving  wood  ; 
And  ancient  towers  crown  his  brow. 
That  cast  an  awful  look  below  ; 
Whose  ragged  walls  the  ivy  creeps. 
And  with  her  arms  from  falling  keeps  ; 
So  both  a  safety  from  the  wind 
On  mutual  dependence  find. 


'Tis  now  the  raven's  bleak  abode, 
'T  is  now  the  apartment  of  the  toad  ; 
And  there  the  fox  securely  feeds. 
And  there  the  poisonous  adder  breeds. 
Concealed  in  ruins,  moss,  and  weeds  ; 
While,  ever  and  anon,  there  falls 
Huge  heaps  of  hoary,  mouldered  walls. 
Yet  Time  has  seen,  that  lifts  the  low, 
And  level  lays  the  lofty  brow,  — 
Has  seen  this  broken  pile  complete, 
Big  with  the  vanity  of  state. 
But  transient  is  the  smile  of  Fato  ! 
A  little  rule,  a  little  sway, 
A  sunbeam  in  a  winter's  day. 
Is  all  the  proud  and  mighty  have 
Between  the  cradle  and  the  grave. 

And  sec  the  rivers,  how  they  run 
Through  woods  and  meads,  in  shade  and  s 
1  Dlnevaur  CasUe. 


76 


KURAL    POETRY. 


Sometimes  swift,  sometimes  slow, 
Wave  succeeding  wave,  tliey  go 
A  various  journey  to  tlie  deep, 
Lilie  liuman  life,  to  endless  sleep  ! 
Thus  is  nature's  vesture  wrought. 
To  instruct  our  wandering  thought ; 
Thus  she  dresses  green  and  gay, 
To  disperse  our  cares  away. 


Ever  charming,  ever  new, 
When  win  the  landscape  tire  the  view  ? 
The  fountain's  fall,  the  river's  flow. 
The  woody  valleys,  warm  and  low  ; 
The  windy  summit,  wild  and  high, 
Roughly  rushing  on  the  sky  ! 
The  pleasant  seat,  the  ruined  tower, 
The  naked  rock,  the  shady  bower  ; 
The  town  and  village,  dome  and  farm, 
Each  gives  each  a  double  charm. 
As  pearls  upon  an  Ethiop's  arm. 


See  on  the  mountain's  southern  side, 
Where  the  prospect  opens  wide. 
Where  the  evening  gilds  the  tide 
How  close  and  small  the  hedges  lie  ! 
What  streaks  of  meadows  crosi 
A  step,  methinks,  may  pass  the  strei 
So  little  distant  dangers  seem  ; 
So  we  mistake  the  future's  face, 
Eyed  through  Hope's  deluding  glass. 
As  yon  summits  soft  and  fair, 
Clad  in  colors  of  the  air, 
Which,  to  those  who  journey  near, 
Barren,  brown,  and  rough,  appear  ; 
Still  we  tread  the  same  coarse  way  ; 
The  present 's  still  a  cloudy  day. 


eye! 


D,  WELL-TO.VKD  LIFE. 

0  may  I  with  myself  agree, 
And  never  covet  what  I  see  1 
Content  me  with  an  humble  shade, 
Jly  passions  tamed,  my  wishes  laid  ; 
For  while  our  wishes  wildly  roll. 
We  banish  quiet  from  the  soul  : 
'T  is  thus  the  busy  beat  the  air. 
And  misers  gather  wealth  and  care. 


Now,  ev'n  now,  my  joys  run  high, 
As  on  the  mountain-tui-f  I  lie  ; 
While  the  wanton  zephyr  sings, 
And  in  the  vale  perfumes  his  wings  ; 
While  the  waters  murmur  deep  ; 
While  the  shepherd  charms  his  sheep  ; 
AVhile  the  birds  unbounded  fly. 
And  with  music  fill  the  sky  ; 
Now,  ev'n  now,  my  joys  run  high. 
Be  full,  ye  courts  !  be  great,  who  will  ; 
Search  for  Peace  with  all  your  skill  ; 
Open  wide  the  lofty  door, 


Seek  her  on  the  marble  floor  : 

In  vain  ye  search,  she  is  not  there  ; 

In  vain  ye  search  the  domes  of  Care  ! 

Grass  and  ffowors  Quiet  treads. 

On  the  meads  and  mountain-heads, 

Along  with  Pleasure  close  allied. 

Ever  by  each  other's  side  ; 

And  often,  by  the  murmuring  rill. 

Hears  the  thrush,  while  all  is  still 

Within  the  groves  of  Grongar  Hill. 


"COUNTRY   WALK." 

The  morning 's  fair  ;   the  lusty  sun 
With  ruddy  cheek  begins  to  run. 
And  early  birds,  that  wing  the  skies, 
Sweetly  sing  to  see  him  rise. 

I  am  resolved,  this  charming  day, 
In  the  open  field  to  stray. 
And  have  no  roof  above  my  head, 
But  that  whereon  the  gods  do  tread. 
Before  the  yellow  barn  I  see 
A  beautiful  variety 
Of  strutting  cocks,  advancing  stout. 
And  flirting  empty  chatf  about  : 
Hens,  ducks,  and  geese,  and  all  their  brood, 
And  turkeys  gobbling  for  their  food. 
While  rustics  thrash  the  wealthy  floor, 
And  tempt  them  all  to  crowd  the  door. 


What  a  fair  face  does  Nature  show  ! 
Augusta  !  wipe  thy  dusty  brow  ; 
A  landscape  wide  salutes  my  sight 
Of  shady  vales  and  mountains  bright ; 
And  azure  heavens  I  behold. 
And  clouds  of  silver  and  of  gold. 
And  now  into  the  fields  I  go. 
Where  thousand  flaming  flowers  glow. 
And  every  neighboring  hedge  I  greet, 
With  honeysuckles  smelling  sweet. 
Now  o'er  the  daisy -meads  I  stray, 
And  iiiiri  iiiih.  ;is  I  pace  my  way, 

Sim. 1 1\  -ii -:  "11  the  eye, 

A  mul.-i  ,:;lhliii-  Miioothly  by. 
Which  sliuws  with  what  an  easy  tide 
The  moments  of  the  happy  glide  : 
Here,  finding  pleasure  after  pain. 
Sleeping,  I  see  a  wearied  swain  ; 
While  his  full  scrip  lies  open  by, 
That  does  his  healthy  food  supply. 
Happy  swain  !  sure  happier  far 
Than  lolty  kings  and  princes  are  ! 
Enjoy  sweet  sleep,  which  shuns  the  crown 
With  all  its  easy  beds  of  down. 
soon;  shade;  iiiitps. — sii-esce  apostropoized. ■ 

The  sun  now  shows  his  noontide  blaze, 
And  sheds  around  me  burning  rays. 


SPRING  —  APRIL. 


77 


A  little  ouward,  and  I  go 
luto  the  shade  that  groves  bestow, 
Aud  on  green  moss  I  lay  me  down, 
That  o'er  the  root  of  oak  has  grown  ; 
Where  all  is  silent,  but  some  Hood, 
That  sweetly  raurraui-s  in  the  wood  ; 
But  birds  that  warble  in  the  sprays. 
And  oharm  even  Silence  with  their  lays. 
0  !  powerful  Silence  !  how  you  reign 
In  the  poet's  busy  brain  ! 
His  numerous  thoughts  obey  the  calls 
Of  the  tuneful  water-falls  ; 
Like  moles,  whene'er  the  coast  is  clear, 
They  rise  before  thoo  without  fear. 
And  range  in  parties  hero  and  there. 


Some  wildly  to  Parnassus  wing. 
And  view  the  fair  Castalian  spring. 
Where  they  behold  a  lonely  well 
Where  now  no  tuneful  Muses  dwell. 
But  now  and  then  a  slavish  liiud 
Paddling  the  troubled  pool  they  find. 

Some  trace  the  pleasing  paths  of  joy. 
Others  the  blissful  scene  destroy  ; 
In  thorny  tracks  of  sorrow  stray, 
And  pine  for  Clio  far  away. 
But  stay  — methinks  her  lays  I  hoar. 
So  smooth  !  so  sweet !  so  deep  !  so  clear  ! 
No,  it  is  not  her  voice  I  find  ; 
'T  is  but  the  echo  stays  behind. 

Some  meditate  Ambition's  brow. 
And  the  black  gulf  that  gapes  below  ; 
Some  peep  in  courts,  and  there  they  see 
The  sneaking  tribe  of  Flattery  : 
But,  striking  to  the  car  and  eye, 
A  nimble  deer  comes  bounding  by  ! 
When  rushing  from  yon  rustling  spray 
n  made  them  vanish  all  away. 

SCXSET  ;   BREATH   OF   UrENMSG  ;   THS   OLD   M.LS'S   COT, 
GARDEN,   BllMlK,   CABBAGES. 

I  rouse  me  up,  and  on  I  rove  ; 
'T  is  more  than  time  to  loavo  the  grove. 
The  sun  declines,  the  evening  breeze 
Begins  to  whisper  through  the  trees  ; 
And  as  I  leave  the  sylvan  gloom. 
As  to  the  glare  of  day  I  come. 
An  old  man's'smoky  nest  I  see 
Leaning  on  an  aged  tree. 
Whose  willow  walls,  and  furzy  brow, 
A  little  garden  sway  below  : 
Through  spreading  beds  of  blooming  green. 
Matted  with  herbage  sweet  and  clean, 
A  vein  of  water  limps  along. 
And  makes  them  ever  green  and  young. 
Here  he  puffs  upon  his  spade. 
And  digs  up  cabbage  in  the  shade  : 
His  tattered  rags  are  sable  brown. 
His  beard  and  hair  are  hoary  grown  ; 
The  dying  sap  descends  apace. 
And  leaves  a  withered  hand  and  face. 


po9T*a  auKST 


Up  Grongar  Hill  I  labor  now, 

And  catch  at  lost  his  bushy  brow. 

0  !  how  fresh,  how  pure,  the  air  ! 

Lot  mo  breathe  a  little  here. 

Where  am  I,  Nature  ?    I  descry 

Thy  magazine  before  me  lie. 

Temples  !  and  towns  !  and  lowers  !  and  woods  ! 

And  hills  !  and  vales  !  and  fields  !  and  floods  ! 

Crowding  before  me,  edged  around 

With  naked  wilds  and  barren  ground. 

See,  below,  the  pleasant  dome. 
The  poet's  pride,  the  poet's  home. 
Which  tho  sunbeams  shine  upon 
To  the  even  from  the  dawn. 
Sec  her  woods,  where  echo  talks. 
Her  giudous  trim,  her  terrace  walks, 
Ilur  wildernesses,  fragrant  brakes, 
Hor  gluDuiy  bowers  and  shining  lakes. 
Keep,  ye  gods  !  this  humble  seat 
Forever  plca.sant,  private,  neat. 


Si'r     \ 

,„,!,.,  1., 11,  u| 

■ising  steer 

Ali-i. 

It   ln,,k 

vnd  deep  : 
pyramid, 

Bcni'iit 

1  a  verdant  f.. 

rest  hid  ; 

On  whi 

ee  high  top  th 

ere  rises  gr 

The  mighty  remnant 

of  a  seat. 

1  gree 


•d  br. 


Frowns  upon  the  vale  below. 

Look  upon  that  flowery  plain, 
How  the  sheep  surround  their  swain. 
How  they  crowd  to  hear  his  strain  ! 
All  careless  with  his  legs  across. 
Leaning  on  a  bank  of  moss. 
He  spends  his  empty  hours  at  play. 
Which  fly  as  light  as  down  away. 

And  there  behold  a  bloomy  mead, 
A  silver  stream,  a  willow  shade. 
Beneath  tho  shade  a  fisher  stand. 
Who,  with  the  angle  in  his  hand. 
Swings  the  nibbling  fry  to  land. 

as  OHADES   or   KVESISO.  —  DSrOKED    OXEX   LOWISO. — 
SHEPHERDS.  — COTIiGE   FIRES    UOirTED. 

In  blushes  the  descending  sun 
Kisses  the  streams  while  slow  they  run  ; 
And  yonder  hill  remoter  grows, 
Or  dusky  clouds  do  interpose. 
Tho  fields  are  left,  the  laboring  hind 
liis  weary  oxen  does  unbind  ; 
And  vocal  mountains,  as  they  low, 
Reecho  to  the  vales  below  ; 
Tho  jocund  shepherds  piping  oomo, 
And  drive  the  herd  before  them  homo  ; 
And  now  begin  to  light  their  fires. 
Which  send  up  smoke  in  curling  spires  ; 
While  with  light  hearts  all  homeward  tend. 
To  Abergasnoy' I  descend.     •     •     • 
The  name  of  a  seat  belonging  to  the  author's  brother. 


salms  of  |raist  Ux  g|iil 


DIVINE  SOVEREIGNTY.' 


Quid  pi-iu 
Laudibus 
Qui  mare 


Jehovah  reigns  ;  let  every  nation  hear, 
And  at  liis  footstool  bow  with  holy  fear  ; 
Let  heaven's  high  arches  echo  with  his  name, 
And  the  wide-peopled  earth  his  praise  proclaim  ; 
Then  send  it  down  to  hell's  deep  glooms  resounding, 
Through  all  her  caves  in  dreadful  murmurs  sounding. 


He  rules  with  wide  and  absolute  command 
O'er  the  broad  ocean  and  the  steadfast  land  : 
Jehovah  reigns,  unbounded  and  alone, 
And  all  creation  hangs  beneath  his  throne  : 
He  reigns  alone  :  let  no  inferior  nature 
Usurp  or  share  the  throne  of  the  Creator. 

He  saw  the  struggling  beams  of  infant  light 
Shoot  through  the  massy  gloom  of  ancient  night; 
His  spirit  hushed  the  elemental  strife, 
And  brooded  o'er  the  kindling  seeds  of  life  : 
Seasons  and  months  began  the  long  procession. 
And  measured  o'er  the  year  in  bright  s 


The  joyful  sun  sprung  up  the  ethereal  way, 
Strong  as  a  giant,  as  a  bridegroom  gay  ; 
And  the  pale  moon  diffused  her  shadowy  light 
Superior  o'er  the  dusky  brow  of  night  ; 
Ten  thousand  glittering  lamps  the  skies  adorning. 
Numerous  as  dew-drops  from  the  womb  of  morning. 

Earth's  blooming  face   with   rising  flowers  He 
dressed. 

And  spread  a  verdant  mantle  o'er  her  breast; 

Then  from  the  hollow  of  his  hand  He  pours 

The  circling  waters  round  her  winding  shores, 
The  now-born  world  in  their  cool  arms  embracing. 
And  with  soft  murmurs  still  her  banks  caressing. 

At  length  she  rose  complete  in  finished  pride. 
All  fair  and  spotless,  like  a  virgin  bride  : 
Fresh  with  untarnished  lustre  as  she  stood. 
Her  Maker  blessed  his  work,  and  called  it  good; 
The  morning  stars,  with  joyful  acclamation. 
Exulting  sung,  and  hailed  the  new  creation. 

Yet  this  fair  world,  the  creature  of  a  day,  [away; 
Though  built  by  God's   right  hand,  must  pass 


And  long  oblivion  creep  o'er  mortal  things, 
The  fate  of  empires,  and  the  pride  of  kings  : 
Eternal  night  shall  veil  their  proudest  story, 
And  drop  the  curtain  o'er  all  human  glory. 

The  sun  himself,  with  weary  clouds  oppressed. 
Shall  in  his  silent,  dark  pavilion  rest ; 
His  golden  urn  shall  broke  and  useless  lie. 
Amidst  the  common  ruins  of  the  sky  ! 
The  stars  rush  headlong  in  the  wild  commotion, 
And  bathe  their  glittering  foreheads  in  the  ocean. 

But  fixed,  0  God  !  forever  stands  thy  throne  ; 

Jehovah  reigns,  a  universe  alone  ; 

The  eternal  fire  that  feeds  each  vital  flame. 

Collected  or  diffused,  is  still  the  same. 
He  dwells  within  his  own  unfathomed  essence. 
And  fills  all  space  with  his  unbounded  presence. 

But,  0  !  our  highest  notes  the  theme  debase, 
And  silence  is  our  least  injurious  praise  : 
Cease,  cease  your  songs,  the  daring  flight  control, 
Revere  Him  in  the  stillness  of  the  soul  ; 
With  silent  duty  meekly  bend  before  Him, 
And  deep  within  your  inmost  hearts  adore  Him. 


ADDISON'S   "TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM.' 


PASTORAL   ON 


DIVINE  PKOVIDENOE. 


The  Lord  my  pasture  shall  prepare, 
And  feed  me  with  a  shepherd's  eare  ; 
His  presence  shall  my  wants  supply. 
And  guard  me  with  a  watchful  eye  ; 
My  noon-day  walks  He  shall  attend, 
And  all  my  midnight  hours  defend. 

When  in  the  sultry  glebe  I  faint. 
Or  on  the  thirsty  mountain  pant, 
To  fertile  vales  and  dewy  meads 
My  weary,  wandering  steps  He  leads, 
Where  peaceful  rivers,  soft  and  slow, 
Amid  the  verdant  landscape  flow. 

Though  in  the  paths  of  death  I  tread. 
With  gloomy  horrors  overspread. 
My  steadfast  heart  shall  fear  no  ill. 
For  Thou,  0  Lord,  art  with  me  still ; 
Thy  friendly  crook  shall  give  me  aid, 
And  guide  me  through  the  dreadful  shade. 


SPRING-MAY. 


(Toliijici-'s    "6;irl) 


en 


Few  lovers  of  llR-OiUiitr.v.  My'tamc  hare,  (iccupalions 
of  a  retired  gentleman  in  Iiis  parden.  Pruning.  Fram- 
ing. Greenhouse.  Sowing  of  flower-seeds.  Tlie  country 
preferable  to  tiie  town,  even  in  winter.  Reasons  why  it 
is  deserted  at  that  season.  Ruinous  effects  of  --'-- 
and  of  expensive  improvement.  Boole 
apostrophe  to  the  metropolis. 


As  ono,  who  long  in  thickets  and  in  brakes 
Kntangled,  winds  now  this  way  and  now  that, 
Ilis  devious  course  unccrtivin,  seeking  homo  ; 
Or,  having  long  in  miry  ways  been  foiled 
And  sore  discomfited,  from  slough  to  slough 
Plunging,  and  half-despairing  of  escape  ; 
If  chance  at  length  he  finds  a  greensward  smooth 
And  faithful  to  the  foot,  his  spirits  rise, 
Ho  chernipa  brisk  his  ear-creoting  steed. 
And  winds  his  way  with  pleasure  and  with  case  ; 
So  I,  designing  other  themes,  and  called 


To  adorn  the  Sofa  with  eulogium  due, 
To  tell  its  slumbers,  and  to  paint  its  dreams, 
Have  rambled  wide  :  in  country,  city,  seat 
Of  academic  fame  (howc'cr  <lescrvcd), 
Long  held,  and  scarcely  disengaged  at  la^t. 
But  now  with  pleasant  pace  a  cieanlier  road 
I  mean  to  tread.     I  feel  myself  at  large. 
Courageous,  and  refreshed  for  future  toil. 
If  toil  await  mo,  or  if  dangers  new. 

THS  TiSK  OP  REPROVISa   FOLLT  LITTLE  BOPKFCL. 

Since  pulpits  fail,  and  sounding-boards  reflect 
Most  part  an  empty  ineffectual  sound, 
M'hat  chance  that  I,  to  fame  so  little  known. 
Nor  conversant  with  men  or  manners  much. 
Should  speak  to  purpose,  or  with  better  hope 
Crack  the  satirio  thong  ?     'T  were  wiser  far 
For  me,  enamored  of  sequestered  scenes 
And  charmed  with  rural  beauty,  to  repose. 
Where  chance  may  throw  mo  beneath  elm  or  vine 
My  languid  limbs,  when  summer  sears  tho  plains, 
Or,  when  rough  winter  rages,  on  the  soft 
And  sheltered  Sofa,  while  the  nitrous  air 
Feeds  a  blue  flame,  and  makes  a  cheerful  hearth  ; 
There,  undisturbed  by  foily,  and  apprised 


80 


RURAL    POETRY. COWPER. 


How  great  the  danger  of  disturbing  her, 
To  muse  in  silence,  or  at  least  con6nc 
Remarks,  that  gall  so  many,  to  the  few 
My  partners  in  retreat.     Disgust  concealed 
Is  ofttimes  proof  of  wisdom,  wlien  the  fault 
Is  obstinate,  and  cure  beyond  our  reach. 

DOUESTIO  HAPPINESS  DESCRIBED  AND  EULOGIZED. 

Domestic  happiness,  thou  only  bliss 
Of  Paradise,  that  hast  survived  the  fall ! 
Though  few  now  taste  thee  unimpaired  and  pure, 
Or,  tasting,  long  enjoy  thee  !  too  infirm. 
Or  too  incautious,  to  preserve  thy  sweets 
Unmixed  with  drops  of  bitter,  which  neglect 
Or  temper  sheds  into  thy  crystal  cup  ; 
Thou  art  the  nurse  of  virtue  ;  in  thine  arms 
She  smiles,  appearing,  as  in  truth  she  is. 
Heaven-born,  and  destined  to  the  skies  again. 
Thou  art  not  known  where  pleasure  is  adored, 
That  reeling  goddess  with  the  zoneless  waist 
And  wandering  eyes,  still  leaning  on  the  arm 
Of  novelty,  her  fickle,  frail  support ; 
For  thou  art  meek  and  constant,  hating  change. 
And  finding,  in  the  calm  of  truth-tried  love, 
Joys  that  her  stormy  raptures  never  yield. 


Forsaking  thee,  what  shipwreck  have  we  made 
Of  honor,  dignity,  and  fair  renown  ! 
Till  prostitution  elbows  us  aside 
In  all  our  crowded  streets  ;  and  senates  seem 
Convened  for  purposes  of  empire  less. 
Than  to  release  the  adult'ress  from  her  bond. 
The  adult'ress  !  what  a  theme  for  angry  verse  ! 
"What  provocation  to  the  indignant  heart, 
That  feels  for  injured  love  !  but  I  disdain 
The  nauseous  task  to  paint  her  as  she  is. 
Cruel,  abandoned,  glorying  in  her  shame  ! 
No  :  —  let  her  pass,  and  charioted  along. 
In  guilty  splendor,  shake  the  public  ways  ; 
The  frequency  of  crimes  has  washed  them  white  ! 
And  verse  of  mine  shall  never  brand  the  wretch, 
AV^hom  matrons  now  of  character  unsmirched. 
And  chaste  themselves,  are  not  ashamed  to  own. 


Virtue  and  vice  had  bound'ries  in  old  time. 
Not  to  be  passed  :  and  she,  that  had  renounced 
Her  sex's  honor,  was  renounced  herself 
By  all  that  prized  it ;  not  for  prudery's  sake. 
But  dignity's,  resentful  of  the  wrong. 
'T  was  hard  perhaps  on  here  and  there  a  waif, 
Desirous  to  return,  and  not  received  : 
But  'twas  a  wholesome  rigor  in  the  main. 
And  taught  the  unblemished  to  preserve  with  care 
That  purity,  whoso  loss  was  loss  of  all. 
Men  too  were  nice  in  honor  in  those  days, 
And  judged  offenders  well.     Then  he  that  sharped, 
And  pocketed  a  prize  by  fraud  obtained. 
Was  marked  and  shunned  as  odious.     He  that  sold 
His  country,  or  was  slack  when  she  required 


His  every  nerve  in  action  and  at  stretch. 
Paid,  -with  the  blood  that  he  had  basely  spared, 
The  price  of  his  default. 


But  now  —  yes,  now 
We  are  become  so  candid  and  so  fair, 
So  liberal  in  construction,  and  so  rich 
In  Christian  charity  (good-natured  age  !), 
That  they  are  safe,  sinners  of  either  sex,         [bred. 
Transgress  what  laws  they  may.    Well  dressed,  well 
Well  equipaged,  is  ticket  good  enough 
To  pass  us  readily  through  every  door. 
Hypocrisy,  detest  her  as  we  may 
(And  no  man's  hatred  ever  wronged  her  yet), 
May  claim  this  merit  still  —  that  she  admits 
The  worth  of  what  she  mimics  with  such  care, 
And  thus  gives  virtue  indirect  applause  ; 
But  she  has  burnt  her  mask,  not  needed  here, 
Where  vice  has  such  allowance,  that  her  shifts 
And  specious  semblances  have  lost  their  use. 


I  was  a  stricken  deer,  that  left  the  herd 
Long  since.     With  many  an  arrow  deep  infixed 
My  panting  side  was  charged,  when  I  withdrew 
To  seek  a  tranquil  death  in  distant  shades. 
There  was  I  found  by  One,  who  had  Himself 
Been  hurt  by  the  archers.     In  his  side  He  bore, 
And  in  his  hands  and  feet,  the  cruel  scars. 
With  gentle  force  soliciting  the  darts. 
He  drew  them-forth,  and  healed,  and  bade  me  liv 
Since  then,  with  few  associates,  in  remote 
And  silent  woods  I  wander,  far  from  those 
My  former  partners  of  the  peopled  scene  ; 
With  few  associates,  and  not  wishing  more. 
Here  much  I  ruminate,  as  much  I  may. 
With  other  views  of  men  and  manners  now 
Than  once,  and  others  of  a  life  to  come. 


I  see  that  all  are  wanderers,  gone  astray 
Each  in  his  own  delusions  ;   they  are  lost 
In  chase  of  fancied  happiness,  still  wooed 
And  never  won.     Dream  after  dream  ensues  ; 
And  still  they  dream  that  they  shall  still  succeed. 
And  still  are  disappointed.     Rings  the  world 
With  the  vain  stir.     I  sum  up  half  mankind. 
And  add  two  thirds  of  the  remaining  half. 
And  find  the  total  of  their  hopes  and  fears 
Dreams,  empty  dreams.     The  million  flit  as  gay. 
As  if  created  only  like  the  fly. 
That  spreads  his  motley  wings  in  the  eye  of  noon. 
To  sport  their  season  and  be  seen  no  more. 
The  rest  are  sober  dreamers,  grave  and  wise. 
And  pregnant  with  discoveries  new  and  rare. 


Some  write  a  narrative  of  wars,  and  feats 
Of  heroes  little  known  ;  and  call  the  rant 
A  history  :  describe  the  man,  of  whom 
His  own  coevals  took  but  little  note. 


SPRING  —  MAY. 


And  paint  his  person,  character,  and  views. 
As  they  had  known  him  from  liis  mother's  womb. 
They  disentangle  from  the  puzzled  skein, 
In  which  obscurity  has  wrapped  them  up, 
The  threads  of  politic  and  shrewd  design. 
That  ran  through  all  his  purposes,  and  ohargo 
Ilis  mind  with  meanings  that  ho  never  had. 
Or,  having,  kept  concealed. 

pmLosopmo  spkculatiovs  is  geologt  and  cosuogokt 


Some  drill  and  boro 
The  solid  earth,  and  from  the  strata  there 
Extract  a  register,  by  which  we  learn. 
That  He  who  made  it,  and  revealed  its  date 
To  Jloses,  was  mistaken  in  its  age. 
Some,  more  acute,  and  moro  industrious  still. 
Contrive  creation  ;  travel  nature  up 
To  the  sharp  peak  of  her  sublimest  height. 
And  tell  us  whence  the  stars  ;  why  some  are  fixed. 
And  planetary  some  ;  what  gave  them  first 
Rotation,  from  what  fountain  flowed  their  light. 
Great  contest  follows,  and  much  learned  dust 
Involves  the  combatants  ;  each  claiming  truth, 
And  truth  disclaiming  both. 

FOLUES  OF  THE  '  LKARNED  *  ASJ)  THE  *  SCIENTISTS.* 

And  thus  they  spend 
The  little  wick  of  life's  poor  shallow  lamp 
In  playing  tricks  with  nature,  giving  laws 
To  distant  worlds,  and  trifling  in  their  own. 
Is't  not  a  pity  now,  that  tickling  rheums 
Should  ever  tease  the  lungs  and  blear  the  sight 
Of  oracles  like  these  ?     Great  pity,  too. 
That,  having  wielded  the  elements,  and  built 
A  thousand  systems,  each  in  his  own  way, 
They  should  go  out  in  fume,  and  be  forgot  ? 
Ah,  what  is  life  thus  spent?  and  what  are  they 
But  frantic,  who  thus  spend  it?  all  for  smoke  — 
Eternity  for  bubbles  proves  at  last 
A  senseless  bargain. 

THE  DAY  OF  JUDGMEST.  —  BOOTLESS  TOIL. 

When  I  see  such  games. 
Played  by  the  creatures  of  a  Power,  who  swears 
That  He  will  judge  the  earth,  and  call  the  fool 
To  a  sharp  reckoning,  that  has  lived  in  vain  ; 
And  when  I  weigh  this  seeming  wisdom  well, 
And  prove  it  in  the  infallible  result 
So  hollow  and  so  false  —  I  feci  my  heart 
Dissolve  in  pity,  and  account  the  learned. 
If  this  be  learning,  most  of  all  deceived. 
Great  crimes  alarm  the  conscience,  but  it  sleeps 
While  thoughtful  man  is  plausibly  amused. 
Defend  mo  therefore,  common  sense,  say  I, 
From  reveries  so  airy,  from  the  toil 
Of  dropping  buckets  into  empty  wells. 
And  growing  old  in  drawing  nothing  up  ! 

SYMPATHY   WITH   ERRING   HCMAXITY. 

'Twere  well,  says  one  sage  erudite,  profound. 
Terribly  arched,  and  aquiline  his  nose, 


And  overbuilt  with  most  impending  brows, 

'Twere  well,  could  you  permit  the  world  to  live 

As  the  world  pleases:  what's  the  world  to  you?  — 

Much.     I  was  born  of  woman,  and  drew  milk 

As  sweet  as  charity  from  human  breasts. 

I  think,  articulate,  I  laugh,  and  weep, 

And  exercise  alt  functions  of  a  man. 

How  then  should  I  and  any  man  that  lives 

Bo  strangers  to  each  other  ?   Pierce  my  vein. 

Take  of  the  crimson  stream  meandering  there. 

And  catechise  it  well  ;  apply  thy  glass. 

Search  it,  and  prove  now  if  it  be  not  blood 

Congenial  with  thine  own  :  and,  if  it  be, 

M'hat  edge  of  subtlety  canst  thou  suppose 

Keen  enough,  wise  and  skilful  as  thou  art. 

To  cut  the  link  of  brotherhood,  by  which 

One  common  Maker  bound  mo  to  the  kind? 

True  ;   I  am  no  proficient,  I  confess, 

In  arts  like  yours.     I  cannot  call  the  swift 

And  perilous  lightnings  from  the  angry  clouds. 

And  bid  them  hide  themselves  in  earth  beneath  ; 

I  cannot  analyze  the  air,  nor  catch 

The  parallax  of  yonder  luminous  point. 

That  seems  half  quenched  in  the  immense  abyss  : 

Such  powers  I  boast  not  — neither  can  I  rest 

A  silent  witness  of  the  headlong  rage. 

Or  heedless  folly,  by  which  thousands  die. 

Bone  of  my  bone,  and  kindred  oouls  to  mine. 

LIMITS  ABE  SET  TO  HUMAN    KNOWLEDGE.  —  CONCEIT  OP 
BLIND  SCIENCE. 

God  never  meant  that  man  should  scale  the  hoav- 
By  strides  of  human  wisdom  in  His  works,      [ens, 
Though  wondrous  :  He  commands  us  in  his  Word 
To  seek  Him  rather  whore  his  mercy  shines. 
The  mind,  indeed,  enlightened  from  above. 
Views  Him  in  all  ;  ascribes  to  the  grand  Cause 
The  grand  effect  ;  acknowledges  with  joy 
His  manner,  and  with  rapture  tastes  his  stylo. 
But  never  yet  did  philosophic  tube. 
That  brings  tho  planets  home  into  the  eye 
Of  observation,  and  discovers,  else 
Not  visible,  his  family  of  worlds. 
Discover  Him  that  rules  them  ;  such  a  veil 
Hangs  over  mortal  eyes,  blind  from  the  birth. 
And  dark  in  things  divine.     Full  often  too 
Our  wayward  intellect,  tho  more  we  learn 
Of  Nature,  overlooks  her  Author  more  ; 
From  instrumental  causes  proud  to  draw 
Conclusions  retrograde,  and  mad  mistake. 

SCIENCE  MCST  BE  RELICIOCS  ■ 


But  if  his  Word  once  teach  us,  shoot  a  ray 
Through  all  the  heart's  dark  chambers,  and  reveal 
Truths  undiscerned  but  by  that  holy  light. 
Then  all  is  plain.     Philosophy,  baptized 
In  tho  pure  fountain  of  eternal  love. 
Has  eyes  indeed  ;  and  viewing  all  she  sees 
As  meant  to  indicate  a  God  to  man, 
Gives  Wm  his  praise,  and  forfeits  not  her  own. 
Learning  has  borne  such  fruit  in  other  days 


82 


RURAL    POETRY. COWPER. 


On  all  her  branches  ;  piety  has  found 

Friends  in  the  friends  of  science,  and  true  prayer 

Has  flowed  from  lips  wet  with  Castalian  dews. 


Such  was  thy  wisdom,  Newton,  childlike  sago  ! 
Sagacious  reader  of  the  works  of  God, 
And  in  his  Word  sagacious.     ,Snch  too  thine, 
Milton,  whose  genius  had  angelic  wings, 
And  fed  on  manna  !    And  such  thine,  in  whom 
Our  British  Themis  gloried  with  just  cause, 
Immortal  Hale  !  for  deep  discernment  praised, 
And  sound  integrity,  not  more  than  famed 
For  sanctity  of  manners  undefiled. 

VIRTUE  ALONE  BLOOMS  PERENNIALLY. 

All  flesh  is  grass,  and  all  its  glory  fades 
Like  the  fair  flower  dishevelled  in  the  wind  ; 
Riches  have  wings,  and  grandeur  is  a  dream. 
The  man  we  celebrate  must  find  a  tomb. 
And  we  that  worship  him  ignoble  graves. 
Nothing  is  proof  against  the  general  curse 
Of  vanity,  that  seizes  all  below. 
The  only  amaranthine  flower  on  earth 
Is  virtue  ;  the  only  lasting  treasure,  truth. 


.  —  HUMiLrrv. 


But  what  is  truth  ?   'T  was  Pilate's  question  put 
To  Truth  itself,  that  deigned  him  no  reply. 
And  wherefore  ?  will  not  God  impart  his  light 
To  them  that  ask  it  ?  —  Freely  —  't  is  his  joy. 
His  glory,  and  his  nature,  to  impart. 
But  to  the  proud,  uncandid,  insincere. 
Or  negligent  inquirer,  not  a  spark. 
What 's  that,  which  brings  contempt  upon  a  book, 
And  him  who  writes  it,  though  the  style  be  neat, 
The  method  clear,  and  argument  exact  ? 
That  makes  a  minister  in  holy  things 
The  joy  of  many,  and  the  dread  of  more. 
His  name  a  theme  for  praise  and  for  reproach  ?  — 
That,  while  it  gives  us  worth  in  God's  account, 
Depreciates  and  undoes  us  in  our  own  ? 
What  pearl  is  it,  that  rich  men  cannot  buy, 
That  learning  is  too  proud  to  gather  up  ; 
But  which  the  poor,  and  the  despised  of  all. 
Seek  and  obtain,  and  often  find  unsought? 
Tell  me  —  and  I  will  tell  thee  what  is  truth. 

RCRAL,  DOMESTIC   LIFE.  —  ITS  ADVANTAGES. 

0  friendly  to  the  best  pursuits  of  man, 
Friendly  to  thought,  to  virtue,  and  to  peace, 
Domestic  life,  in  rural  pleasure  passed  ! 
Few  know  thy  value,  and  few  taste  thy  sweets  ; 
Though  many  boast  thy  favors,  and  affect 
To  understand  and  choose  thee  for  their  own. 
But  foolish  man  foregoes  his  proper  bliss, 
Even  as  his  first  progenitor,  and  quits. 
Though  placed  in  Paradise  (for  earth  has  still 
Some  traces  of  her  youthful  beauty  left). 
Substantial  happiness  for  transient  joy. 


Scenes  formed  for  contemplation,  and  to  nurse 
The  growing  seeds  of  wisdom  ;  that  suggest. 
By  every  pleasing  image  they  present. 
Reflections  such  as  meliorate  the  heart. 
Compose  the  passions,  and  exalt  the  mind  ; 
Scenes  such  as  these  'tis  his  supreme  delight 
To  fill  with  riot,  and  defile  with  blood. 
Should  some  contagion,  kind  to  the  poor  brutes 
We  persecute,  annihilate  the  tribes. 
That  draw  the  sportsman  over  hill  and  dale. 
Fearless,  and  rapt  away  from  all  his  cares  ; 
Should  never  game-fowl  hatch  her  eggs  again. 
Nor  baited  hook  deceive  the  fish's  eye  ; 
Could  pageantry,  and  dance,  and  feast,  and  song. 
Be  quelled  in  all  our  summer-months'  retreats  ; 
How  many  self-deluded  nymphs  and  swains. 
Who  dream  they  have  a  taste  for  fields  and  groves 
Would  find  them  hideous  nurseries  of  the  spleen, 
And  crowd  the  roads,  impatient  for  the  town  ! 


They  love  the  country,  and  none  else,  who  seek 
For  their  own  sake  its  silence,  and  its  shade. 
Delights  which  who  would  leave,  that  has  a  heart 
Susceptible  of  pity,  or  a  mind 
Cultured  and  capable  of  sober  thought, 
For  all  the  savage  din  of  the  swift  pack. 
And  clamors  of  the  field  ?     Detested  sport. 
That  owes  its  pleasures  to  another's  pain  ; 
That  feeds  upon  the  sobs  and  dying  shrieks 
Of  harmless  nature,  dumb,  but  yet  endued 
With  eloquence,  that  agonies  inspire. 
Of  silent  tears  and  heart-distending  sighs  ? 
Vain  tears,  alas  !  and  sighs,  that  never  find 
A  corresponding  tone  in  jovial  souls  ! 
Well  —  one  at  least  is  safe. 


One  sheltered  hare 
Has  never  heard  the  sanguinary  yell 
Of  cruel  man,  exulting  in  her  woes. 
Innocent  partner  of  my  peaceful  home, 
Whom  ten  long  years'  experience  of  my  care 
Has  made  at  least  familiar  ;  she  has  lost 
Much  of  her  vigilant  instinctive  dread, 
Not  needful  here,  beneath  a  roof  like  mine. 
Yes  —  thou  mayest  eat  thy  bread,  and  lick  the  hand 
That  feeds  thee  ;  thou  mayest  frolic  on  the  floor 
At  evening,  and  at  night  retire  secure 
To  thy  straw  couch,  and  slumber  unalarmed  ; 
For  I  have  gained  thy  confidence,  have  pledged 
All  that  is  human  in  me,  to  protect 
Thine  unsuspecting  gratitude  and  love. 
If  I  survive  thee,  I  will  dig  thy  grave  ; 
And,  when  I  place  thee  in  it,  sighing  say, 
I  knew  at  least  one  hare  that  had  a  friend.^ 


Cowper  tamed  8 


SPRING — MAT. 


KMPLOTUSXTS  OF  . 

How  various  his  employments,  whom  the  world 
Culls  idle  ;  and  who  justly  in  return 
Esteems  that  busy  world  an  idler  too  ! 
Friends,  books,  a  garden,  and  perhaps  his  pen, 
Delightful  industry  enjoyed  at  home. 
And  nature  in  her  cultivated  trim, 
Dressed  to  his  taste,  inviting  him  abroad  — 
Can  he  want  occupation,  who  hoa  these  ? 
Will  he  be  idle,  who  has  much  t'  enjoy? 
Me,  therefore,  studious  of  laborious  ease, 
Not  slothful,  happy  to  deceive  the  time, 
Not  waste  it,  and  aware  that  human  life 
Is  but  a  loan  to  be  repaid  with  use. 
When  He  shall  call  his  debtors  to  account. 
From  whom  are  all  our  blessings,  business  finds 
Even  here  :  while  sedulous  I  seek  t'  improve, 
At  least  neglect  not,  or  leave  unemployed, 
The  mind  Ho  gave  me  ;  driving  it,  though  slack 
Too  oft,  and  much  impeded  in  its  work 
By  causes  not  to  be  divulged  in  vain. 
To  its  just  point  — the  service  of  mankind. 

CTILrrY  TO  OTHBBS  THB  BEST  AIM. 

He,  that  attends  to  his  interior  self, 
That  has  a  heart,  and  keeps  it  ;  has  a  mind 
That  hungers,  and  supplies  it ;  and  who  seeks 
A  social,  not  a  dissipated  life. 
Has  business  ;  feels  himself  engaged  t'  achieve 
No  unimportant,  though  a  silent,  task. 
A  life  all  turbulence  and  noise,  may  seem, 
To  him  that  leads  it,  wise,  and  to  be  praised  ; 
But  wisdom  is  a  pearl  with  most  success 
Sought  in  still  water,  and  beneath  clear  skies. 
Ho  that  is  ever  occupied  in  storms. 
Or  dives  not  for  it,  or  brings  up  instead, 
Vainly  industrious,  a  disgraceful  prize. 

THE  MOBSINO  OF  THE  VIRTUOUS  MAN  OF  LETSURB. 

The  morning  finds  the  self-sequestered  man 
Fresh  for  his  task,  intend  what  task  he  may. 
Whether  inclement  seasons  recommend 
His  warm  but  simple  home,  where  he  enjoys 
With  her,  who  shares  his  pleasures  and  his  heart. 
Sweet  converse,  sipping  calm  the  fragrant  lymph, 
Which  neatly  she  prepares  ;  then  to  his  book 
Well  chosen,  and  not  sullenly  perused 
In  selfish  silence,  but  imparted  oft, 
As  aught  occurs,  that  she  may  smile  to  hear, 
Or  turn  to  nourishment,  digested  well. 


Or  if  the  garden,  with  its  many  cares. 
All  well  repaid,  demand  him,  he  attends 
The  welcome  call,  conscious  how  much  the  hand 
Of  lubbard  labor  needs  his  watchful  eye, 
Oft  loitering  lazily,  if  not  o'erseen. 
Or  misapplying  his  unskilful  strength. 
Nor  does  be  govern  only  or  direct, 
But  much  performs  himself.     No  works,  indeed, 
That  ask  robust,  tough  sinews,  bred  to  toil. 


Servile  employ  ;  but  such  as  may  amuse. 
Not  tire,  demanding  rather  skill  than  force. 


I'rond  of  his  well-spread  walls,  ho  views  his  trees. 
That  meet  (no  barren  interval  between). 
With  pleasure  more  than  ev'n  their  fruits  afford  ; 
Which,  save  himself  who  trains  them,  none  can  feel. 
These  therefore  are  his  own  peculiar  charge  ; 
No  meaner  hand  may  discipline  the  shoots, 
None  but  his  steel  approach  them.     What  is  weak, 
Distempered,  or  has  lost  prolific  powers, 
Impaired  by  age,  his  unrelenting  hand 
Dooms  to  the  knife  :  nor  does  he  spare  the  soft 
And  succulent,  that  feeds  its  giant  growth 
But  barren,  at  th'  expense  of  neighboring  twigs 
Less  ostentatious,  and  yet  studded  thick 
With  hopeful  gems. 


The  rest,  no  portion  left 
That  may  disgrace  his  art,  or  disappoint 
Large  expectation,  he  disposes  neat 
At  measured  distances,  that  air  and  sun. 
Admitted  freely,  may  aflford  their  aid. 
And  ventilate  and  warm  the  swelling  buds. 
Hence  summer  has  her  riches,  autumn  hence. 
And  hence  even  winter  fills  his  withered  hand 
With  blushing  fruits,  and  plenty  not  his  own. 


Fair  recompense  of  labor  well  bestowed. 
And  wise  precaution  ;  which  a  clime  so  rudo 
Makes  needful  still,  whose  spring  is  but  the  child 
Of  churlish  winter,  in  her  froward  moods 
Discovering  much  the  temper  of  her  sire. 
For  oft,  as  if  in  her  the  stream  of  mild 
Maternal  nature  had  reversed  its  course, 
She  brings  her  infants  forth  with  many  smiles  ; 
But,  once  delivered,  kills  them  with  a  frown. 
He  therefore,  timely  warned,  himself  supplies 
Her  want  of  care,  screening  and  keeping  warm 
The  plenteous  bloom,  that  no  rough  blast  may  sweep 
His  garlands  from  the  boughs.     Again,  as  oft 
As  the  sun  peeps,  and  vernal  airs  breathe  mild. 
The  fence  withdrawn,  ho  gives  them  every  beam. 
And  spreads  his  hopes  before  the  blaze  of  day. 


To  raise  the  prickly  and  green-coated  gourd. 
So  grateful  to  the  palate,  and  when  rare 
So  coveted,  else  base  and  disesteemed  — 
Food  for  the  vulgar  merely  —  is  an  art 
That  toiling  ages  have  but  just  matured,  — 
And  at  this  moment  unassaycd  in  song. 
Yet  gnats  have  had,  and  frogs  and  mice,  long  since, 
Their  eulogy  :  those  sang  the  Mantuan  bard, 
And  these  the  Grecian,  in  ennobling  strains  ; 
And  in  thy  numbers,  Philips,  shines  for  aye 
The  solitary  shilling.     Pardon,  then, 
To  sage  dispensers  of  poetio  fame. 


RURAL    POETRY. COWPER. 


■leaf 


The  ambition  of  one  meaner  far,  whose  powers. 
Presuming  an  attempt  not  less  sublime, 
Pant  for  the  praise  of  dressing  to  the  taste 
Of  critic  appetite,  no  sordid  fare, 
A  cucumber,  while  costly  yet  and  scarce. 

THE  HOT-BED  FOR  CUCUVBERS.  —  HOW  MADE. 

The  stable  yields  a  stercoraceous  heap, 
Impregnated  with  quick  fermenting  salts, 
And  potent  to  resist  the  freezing  blast  • 
For,  ere  the  beech  and  elm  have  cast  t 
Deciduous,  when  now  November  dark 
Checks  vegetation  in  the  torpid  plant 
Exposed  to  his  cold  breath,  the  task  begins. 
Warily  therefore,  and  with  prudent  heed. 
He  seeks  a  favored  spot  ;  that  where  he  builds 
The  agglomerated  pile,  his  frame  may  front 
The  sun's  meridian  disk,  and  at  the  back 
Enjoy  close  shelter,  wall,  or  reeds,  or  hedge 
Impervious  to  the  wind.     First  he  bids  spread 
Dry  fern  or  littered  hay,  that  may  imbibe 
Th'  ascending  damps  ;  then  leisurely  impose. 
And  lightly,  shaking  it  with  agile  hand 
From  the  full  fork,  the  saturated  straw. 
What  longest  binds  the  closest  forms  secure 
The  shapely  side,  that  as  it  rises  takes. 
By  just  degrees,  an  overhanging  breadth. 
Sheltering  the  base  with  its  projected  eaves  ; 
Th'  uplifted  frame,  compact  at  every  joint. 
And  overlaid  with  clear  translucent  glass. 
He  settles  next  upon  the  sloping  mount, 
Whose  sharp  declivity  shoots  off  secure 
From  the  dashed  pane  the  deluge  as  it  falls. 
He  shuts  it  close,  and  the  first  labor  ends. 
Thrice  must  the  voluble  and  restless  earth 
Spin  round  upon  her  axle,  ere  the  warmth. 
Slow  gathering  in  the  midst,  through  the  square 
Diffused,  attain  the  surface  :  when,  behold  !    [mass 
A  pestilent  and  most  corrosive  steam. 
Like  a  gross  fog  Bceotian,  rising  fast. 
And  fast  condensed  upon  the  dewy  sash, 
Asks  egress  ;  which  obtained,  the  overcharged, 
And  drenched  conservatory,  breathes  abroad. 
In  volumes  wheeling  slow,  the  vapor  dank  ; 
And,  purified,  rejoices  to  have  lost 
Its  foul  inhabitant.     But  to  assuage 
The  impatient  fervor,  which  it  first  conceives 
Within  its  reeking  bosom,  threatening  death 
To  his  young  hopes,  requires  discreet  delay. 
Experience,  slow  preceptress,  teaching  oft 
The  way  to  glory  by  miscarriage  foul. 
Must  prompt  him,  and  admonish  how  to  catch 
The  auspicious  moment,  when  the  tempered  heat. 
Friendly  to  vital  motion,  may  afford 
Soft  fomentation,  and  invite  the  seed. 


CCClJBIIlEn.6EED. 

The  seed,  selected  wisely,  plump  and  smooth. 
And  glossy,  he  commits  to  pots  of  size 
Diminutive,  well  filled  with  well-prepared 


And  fruitful  soil,  that  has  been  treasured  long, 

And  drank  no  moisture  from  the  dripping  clouds. 

These  on  the  warm  and  genial  earth,  that  hides 

The  smoking  manure,'  and  o'erspreads  it  all. 

He  places  lightly,  and,  as  time  subdues 

The  rage  of  fermentation,  plunges  deep 

In  the  soft  medium,  till  they  stand  immersed. 

Then  rise  the  tender  germs,  upstarting  quick. 

And  spreading  wide  their  spongy  lobes  ;   at  first 

Pale,  wan,  and  livid  ;  but  assuming  soon. 

If  fanned  by  balmy  and  nutritious  air. 

Strained  through  the  friendly  mats,  a  vivid  green. 

THE  CUCUMBER-PLANT  '    ITS  FLOWERS   AND   FERTILIZATION. 

Two  leaves  produced,  two  rough  indented  leaves. 
Cautious  he  pinches  from  the  second  stalk 
A  pimple,  that  portends  a  future  sprout. 
And  interdicts  its  growth.  Thence  straight  succeed 
The  branches,  sturdy  to  his  utmost  wish  ; 
Prolific  all,  and  harbingers  of  more. 
The  crowded  roots  demand  enlargement  now. 
And  transplantation  in  an  ampler  space. 
Indulged  in  what  they  wish,  they  soon  supply 
Large  foliage,  o'ershadowing  golden  flowers. 
Blown  on  the  summit  of  th'  apparent  fruit. 
These  have  their  sexes  !  and,  when  summer  shinefi, 
The  bee  transports  the  fertilizing  meal 
From  flower  to  flower,  and  even  the  breathing  air 
Wafts  the  rich  prize  to  its  appointed  use. 
Not  so  when  winter  scowls.     Assistant  art 
Then  acts  in  nature's  office,  brings  to  pass 
The  glad  espousals,  and  insures  the  crop. 

COSTLINESS  OF   HOT-HOUSE  CULTURE  AND   FRUITS. 

Grudge  not,  ye  rich  (since  luxury  must  have 
His  dainties,  and  the  world's  more  numerous  half 
Lives  by  contriving  delicates  for  you). 
Grudge  not  the  cost.     Ye  little  know  the  cares, 
The  vigilance,  the  labor,  and  the  skill, 
That  day  and  night  are  exercised,  and  hang 
Upon  the  ticklish  balance  of  suspense. 
That  ye  may  garnish  your  profuse  regales 
With  summer  fruits  brought  forth  by  wintry  suns. 
Ten  thousand  dangers  lie  in  wait  to  thwart 
The  process.     Heat  and  cold,  and  wind  and  steam. 
Moisture  and  drought,  mice,  worms,  and  swarming 
Minute  as  dust,  and  numberless,  oft  work       [flies, 
Dire  disappointment,  that  admits  no  cure. 
And  which  no  care  can  obviate.     It  were  long. 
Too  long,  to  tell  the  expedients  and  the  shifts. 
Which  he  that  fights  a  season  so  severe 
Devises,  while  ho  guards  his  tender  trust ; 
And  oft  at  last  in  vain.     The  learned  and  wise 
Sarcastic  would  exclaim,  and  judge  the  song 
Cold  as  Its  theme,  and  like  its  theme  the  fruit 
Of  too  much  labor,  worthless  when  produced. 

THE  GREEN-HOUSE.  —  HS   PLANTS  DESCRIBED. 

Who  loves  a  garden  loves  a  green-house  too. 
Unconscious  of  a  less  propitious  clime. 
There  blooms  exotic  beauty,  warm  and  snug. 


SPRING  —  MAT. 


85 


While  the  winds  whistle,  and  the  snows  descend. 

The  spiry  myrtle  with  unwithcring  leaf 

Shines  there,  and  flourishes.     The  golden  boast 

Of  Portugal  and  western  India  there, 

The  ruddier  orange,  and  the  paler  lime, 

Peep  through  their  polished  folioge  at  the  storm, 

And  seem  to  smile  at  what  they  need  not  fear. 

The  amomum  there  with  intermingling  flowers 

And  cherries  hangs  her  twigs.     Geranium  boasts 

Her  crimsoi!  honors  ;  and  the  spangled  beau, 

Ficoides,  glitters  bright  the  winter  long. 

All  plants,  of  every  leaf,  that  can  endure 

The  winter's  frown,  if  screened  from  his  shrewd  bite, 

Live  there,  and  prosper.     Those  Ausonia  claims, 

Levantine  regions  these  ;  the  Azores  send 

Their  jessamine,  her  jessamine  remote 

Caffraia  :  foreigners  from  many  lands. 

They  form  one  social  shade,  as  if  convened 

By  magio  summons  of  the  Orphean  lyre. 


ARKASOEMEST  OF  EXOTICS  IS  THE  GREES-UOCSE. 

Yet  just  arrangement,  rarely  brought  to  pass 
But  by  a  master's  hand,  disposing  well 
The  gay  diversities  of  leaf  and  flower. 
Must  lend  its  aid  to  illustrate  all  their  charms, 
And  dress  the  regular  yet  various  scene. 
Plant  behind  plant  aspiring,  in  the  van 
The  dwarfish  ;  in  the  rear  retired,  but  still 
Sublime  above  the  rest,  the  statelier  stand. 
So  once  were  ranged  the  sons  of  ancient  Rome, 
A  noble  show  !  while  Roscius  trod  the  stage  ; 
And  so,  while  Garrick,  as  renowned  as  he. 
The  sons  of  Albion  ;  fearing  each  to  lose 
Some  note  of  Nature's  music  from  his  lips. 
And  covetous  of  Shakspeare's  beauty,  seen 
In  every  flash  of  his  far-beaming  eye. 
Nor  taste  alone  and  well-contrived  display 
Suffice  to  give  the  marshalled  ranks  the  grace 
Of  their  complete  effect. 

LABORIOUS    CARES    OF 


Much  yet  remains 
Unsung,  and  many  cares  are  yet  behind. 
And  more  laborious  ;  cares  on  which  depends 
Their  vigor,  injured  soon,  not  soon  restored. 
The  soil  must  be  renewed,  which,  often  washed, 
Loses  its  treasure  of  salubrious  salts. 
And  disappoints  the  roots  ;  the  slender  roots 
Close  interwoven,  where  they  meet  the  vase 
Must  smooth  be  shorn  away  ;  the  sapless  branch 
Must  fly  before  the  knife  ;  the  withered  leaf 
Most  bo  detached,  and  where  it  strews  the  floor 
Swept  with  a  woman's  neatness,  breeding  else 
Contagion,  and  disseminating  death. 
Discharge  but  these  kind  offices,  —  and  who 
Would  spare,  that  loves  them,  offices  like  those  ?  — 
Well  they  reward  the  toil.     The  sight  is  pleased. 
The  scent  regaled,  each  odorif  *rous  leaf. 
Each  opening  blossom,  freely  breathes  abroad 
Its  gratitude,  and  thanks  him  with  its  sweets. 


So  manifold,  all  plea-sing  in  their  kind. 
All  healthful,  are  the  employs  of  rural  life. 
Reiterated  as  the  wheel  of  time 
Runs  round  ;  still  ending,  and  beginning  still. 
Nor  ore  those  all.     To  deck  the  shapely  knoll, 
That,  softly  swelled  and  gayly  dressed,  appears 
A  flowery  island  from  the  dark  green  lawn 
Emerging,  must  be  deemed  a  labor  due 
To  no  mean  hand,  and  asks  the  touch  of  taste. 
Hero  also  grateful  mixture  of  well-matched 
And  sorted  hues,  each  giving  each  relief. 
And  by  contrasted  beauty  shining  more  — 
Is  needful.   Strength  may  wield  the  ponderous  spade 
May  turn  the  clod,  and  wheel  the  compost  home  ; 
But  elegance,  chief  grace  the  garden  shows 
And  most  attractive,  is  the  fair  result 
Of  thought,  the  creature  of  a  polished  mind. 


Without  it  all  is  Gothic  as  the  scene 
To  which  the  insipid  citizen  resorts. 
Near  yonder  heath  ;  where  industry  misspent. 
But  proud  of  his  uncouth,  ill-chosen  task. 
Has  mode  a  heaven  on  earth ;  with  suns  and  moons 
Of  close-rammed  stones  has  charged  the  encumbered 
And  faiily  laid  the  zodiac  in  the  dust.  [soil. 


He,  therefore,  who  would  see  his  flowers  disposed 
Sightly  and  in  just  order,  ere  ho  gives 
The  beds  the  trusted  treasure  of  their  seeds, 
Forecasts  the  future  whole  j  that  when  the  scene 
Shall  break  into  its  preconceived  display, 
Each  for  itself  and  all  as  with  one  voice 
Conspiring,  may  attest  his  bright  design. 
Nor  even  then,  dismissing  as  performed 
His  pleasant  work,  may  he  suppose  it  done. 


Few  self-supported  flowers  endure  the  wind 
Uninjured,  but  expect  the  upholding  aid 
Of  the  smooth-shaven  prop  ;   and,  neatly  tied. 
Are  wedded  thus,  like  beauty  to  old  age. 
For  interest  sake,  the  living  to  the  dead. 
Some  clothe  the  soil  that  feeds  them,  far  diffused 
And  lowly  creeping,  modest  and  yet  fair. 
Like  virtue,  thriving  most  whore  little  seen  : 
Some,  more  aspiring,  catch  the  neighbor  shrub 
With  clasping  tendrils,  and  invest  his  branch. 
Else  unadorned,  with  many  a  gay  festoon 
And  fragrant  chaplet,  recompensing  well 
The  strength  they  borrow  with  the  grace  they  lend. 


All  hate  the  rank  society  of  weeds. 
Noisome,  and  ever  greedy  to  exhaust 
The  impoverished  earth  ;  an  overbearing  race. 
That,  like  the  multitude  made  faction  mad, 
Disturb  good  order,  and  degrade  true  worth. 


RURAL    POETRY. COWPER. 


0,  blest  seclusion  from  a  jarring  world, 
MTiich  he,  thus  occupied,  enjoys  !     Retreat 
Cannot  indeed  to  guilty  man  restore 
Lost  innocence,  or  cancel  follies  past ; 
But  it  has  peace,  and  much  secures  the  mind 
From  all  assaults  of  evil  ;  proving  still 
A  faithful  barrier,  not  o'erleoped  with  ease 
By  vicious  custom,  raging  uncontrolled 
Abroad,  and  desolating  public  life. 
When  fierce  temptation,  seconded  within 
By  traitor  appetite,  and  armed  with  darts 
Tempered  in  hell,  invades  the  throbbing  breast. 
To  combat  may  be  glorious,  and  success 
Perhaps  may  crown  us  ;  but  to  fly  is  safe. 
Had  I  the  choice  of  sublunary  good, 
What  could  I  wish,  that  I  possess  not  here?  [peace, 
Health,  leisure,   means  to  improve  it,  friendship. 
No  loose  or  wanton,  though  a  wandering,  muse. 
And  constant  occupation  without  care. 

DISSIPATED  MINDS  CANNOT  ENJOY  SECLUSION. 

Thus  blessed  I  draw  a  picture  of  that  bliss  ; 
Hopeless,  indeed,  that  dissipated  minds. 
And  profligate  abusers  of  a  world 
Created  fair  so  much  in  vain  for  them. 
Should  seek  the  guiltless  joys  that  I  describe. 
Allured  by  my  report  :  but  sure  no  less, 
That  sflf-condemned  they  must  neglect  the  prize, 
And  what  they  will  not  taste  must  yet  approve. 
IVhat  we  admire  we  praise  ;  and,  when  we  praise. 
Advance  it  into  notice,  that,  its  worth 
Acknowledged,  others  may  admire  it  too. 
I  therefore  recommend,  though  at  the  risk 
Of  popular  disgust,  yet  boldly  still, 
The  cause  of  piety  and  sacred  truth, 
And  virtue,  and  those  scenes,  which  God  ordained 
Should  best  secure  them,  and  promote  them  most ; 
Scenes  that  I  love,  and  with  regret  perceive 
Forsaken,  or  through  folly  not  enjoyed. 

ALL  MAT  SHARE  IN  NATCBe'S  CHARMS.  —  VASHTL 

Pure  is  the  nymph,  though  liberal  of  her  smiles, 
And  chaste,  though  unconfined,  whom  I  extol. 
Not  as  the  prince  in  Shushan,  when  he  called. 
Vain-glorious  of  her  charms,  his  Vashti  forth. 
To  grace  the  full  pavilion.     His  design 
Was  but  to  boast  his  own  peculiar  good, 
Which  all  might  view  with  envy,  none  partake. 
My  charmer  is  not  mine  alone  ;  my  sweets. 
And  she  that  sweetens  all  my  bitters  too, 
Nature,  enchanting  nature,  in  whose  form 
And  lineaments  divine  I  trace  a  hand 
That  errs  not,  and  find  raptures  still  renewed, 
Is  free  to  all  men  —  universal  prize. 


Strange  that  so  fair  a  creature  should  yet  want 
Admirers,  and  be  destined  to  divide 
With  meaner  objects  e'en  the  few  she  finds  ! 


Stript  of  her  ornaments,  her  leaves  and  flowers, 

She  loses  all  her  influence.     Cities  then 

Attract  us,  and  neglected  nature  pines 

Abandoned,  as  unworthy  of  our  love. 

But  are  not  wholesome  airs,  though  unperfumed 

By  roses  ;  and  clear  suns,  though  scarcely  felt ; 

And  groves,  if  unharmonious,  yet  secure 

From  clamor,  and  whose  very  silence  charms  — 

To  be  preferred  to  smoke,  to  the  eclipse. 

That  metropolitan  volcanoes  make. 

Whose  Stygian  throats  breathe  darkness  all  day  long ; 

And  to  the  stir  of  commerce,  driving  slow. 

And  thundering  loud,  with  his  ten  thousand  wheels  ? 

^  "  [  A   CAUSE  AND   AN  EFFECT   OF  A  DISTASTE 


They  would  be,  were  not  madness  in  the  head, 
And  folly  in  the  heart ;  were  England  now. 
What  England  was,  plain,  hospitable,  kind. 
And  undebauched.     But  we  have  bid  farewell 
To  all  the  virtues  of  those  better  days. 
And  all  their  honest  pleasures.     Mansions  once 
Knew  their  own  masters  ;  and  laborious  hinds, 
Who  had  survived  the  father,  served  the  son. 
Now  the  legitimate  and  rightful  lord 
Is  but  a  transient  guest,  newly  arrived. 
As  soon  to  be  supplanted. 


He,  that  saw 
His  patrimonial  timber  cast  its  leaf, 
Sells  the  last  scantling  and  transfers  the  price 
To  some  shrewd  sharper,  ere  it  buds  again. 
Estates  are  landscapes,  gazed  upon  a  while. 
Then  advertised,  and  auctioneered  away,     [charged 
The  country  starves,  and  they,  that  feed  the  o'er- 
And  surfeited,  lewd  town  with  her  fair  dues. 
By  a  just  judgment  strip  and  starve  themselves. 
The  wings,  that  waft  our  riches  out  of  sight, 
Grow  on  the  gamester's  elbows  ;  and  the  alert 
And  nimble  motion  of  those  restless  joints. 
That  never  tire,  soon  fans  them  all  away. 

FASHIONABLE  COUNTRY  PALACES.—  '  MR.  CAPABILITY  BROWN.' 

Improvement  too,  the  idol  of  the  age. 
Is  fed  with  many  a  victim.     Lo,  he  comes  ! 
The  omnipotent  magician.  Brown,  appears  ! 
Down  falls  the  venerable  pile,  the  abode 
Of  our  forefathers  —  a  grave  whiskered  race. 
But  tasteless.     Springs  a  palace  in  its  stead. 
But  in  a  distant  spot ;  where  more  exposed 
It  may  enjoy  the  advantage  of  the  north, 
And  aguish  east,  till  time  shall  have  transformed 
Those  naked  acres  to  a  sheltering  grove.  — 
He  speaks.     The  lake  in  front  becomes  a  lawn  ; 
Woods  vanish,  hills  subside,  and  valleys  rise  ; 
And  streams,  as  if  created  for  his  use. 
Pursue  the  track  of  his  directing  wand. 
Sinuous  or  straight,  now  rapid  and  now  slow. 
Now  murmuring  soft,  now  roaring  in  cascades  — 
Even  as  he  bids  !     The  enraptured  owner  smiles. 


BiSKRirrrcT  TiiBOOon  nnLOiso. 
'Tis  finished,  and  yet,  finished  as  it  seems. 
Still  wants  a  grace,  the  loveliest  it  could  show, 
A  mind  to  satisfy  the  enormous  cost. 
Drained  to  the  last  poor  item  of  his  wealth, 
lie  sighs,  depart"!,  and  leaves  the  accomplished  plan, 
'I'luit  he  has  touched,  retouched,  many  a  long  day 
Liiburid,  anil  many  a  night  pursued  in  dreams. 
Just  when  it  meets  his  hopes,  and  proves  the  heaven 
Ho  wanted,  —  for  a  wealthier  to  enjoy  ! 

THS  RUINED    BUILDER    BECOMES  TBE  POLrriCAL  PBOFLIOATB. 


And  now  perhaps  the  glorious  hour  is  come, 
When,  having  no  stake  left,  no  pledge  to  endear 
Her  interest-s,  or  that  gives  her  sacred  cause 
A  moment's  operation  on  his  love, 
lie  burns  with  most  intense  and  tiagrant  zeal 
To  servo  his  country.     Ministerial  grace 

!  chest ; 


rthy  1 


Deals  him  o 

jt  mnne 

V  from  the 

Or,  if  that  I, 

ill.   1.. 

Suppli..lH- 
To  bo  rfli.' 
Well  maii.i : 

';.;!::;, 

}Ei. 

coRRupnox. 

0  innocent,  compared  with  arts  like  those. 
Crape,  and  cocked  pistol,  and  the  whistling  ball 
Sent  through  the  traveller's  temples  !   He,  that  finds 
One  drop  of  Heaven's  sweet  mercy  in  his  cup, 
Can  dig,  beg,  rot,  and  perish,  well  content. 
So  he  may  wrap  himself  in  honest  rags 
At  his  last  gasp  ;  but  could  not,  for  a  world. 
Fish  up  his  dirty  and  dependent  bread 
From  pools  and  ditches  of  the  commonwealth. 
Sordid  and  sickening  at  his  own  success. 

WH.4T    CAUSES    PEOPLE    LONDON  ;    A    MORAL  CESS-POOL. 

Ambition,  avarice,  penury  incurred 
By  endless  riot,  vanity,  the  lust 


Of  pleasure  and  variety,  despatch, 

As  duly  as  the  swallows  disappear. 

The  world  of  wandering  knights  and  squires  to  town. 

Ixindon  ingulfs  them  all  !     The  shark  is  there. 

And  the  shark's  prey;  the  spendthrift,  and  the  leech 

That  sucks  him  :  there  the  sycophant,  and  he 

Who,  with  bareheaded  and  obsequious  bows. 

Begs  a  warm  ofiice,  doomed  to  a  cold  jail 

And  groat  per  diem,  if  his  patron  frown. 

The  I.  \>  i     \iarTii-,  ri=  if  in  golden  pomp 

M'cr-'    '  I  I     i:  r\  rry  statesman's  door, 

*  Jlilt  '  tnrtunes  mtndcd  hrre* 

Thif.  ill.   iL'  .'ijiiii-  iluit  sully  and  eclipse 

The  clmrms  (.f  onturo.     'T  is  the  eruel  gripe 

That  lean,  hard-handed  poverty  inflicts. 

The  hope  of  better  things,  the  chance  to  win, 

The  wish  to  shine,  the  thirst  to  be  amused, 

That  at  the  sound  of  Winter's  hoary  wing 

Unpeople  all  our  counties  of  such  herds 

Of  fluttering,  loitering,  cringing,  begging,  loose. 

And  wanton  vagrants,  as  make  London,  vast 

And  boundless  as  it  is,  a  crowded  coop. 

APOSTBOPire  TO  LOSDOS. 

0  thou,  resort  and  mart  of  all  the  earth  ! 
Checkered  with  all  compleiions  of  mankind, 
And  spotted  with  all  crimes  ;  in  whom  I  see 
Much  that  I  love,  and  more  that  I  admire, 
And  all  that  I  abhor  ;  thou  freckled  fair, 
That  pleasest  and  yet  shockest  me,  I  can  laugh, 
And  I  can  weep,  can  hope,  and  can  despond. 
Feel  wrath,  and  pity,  when  I  think  on  thee  ! 
Ten  righteous  would  have  saved  a  city  once. 
And  thou  hast  many  righteous.  —  Well  for  thee  — 
That  salt  preserves  thee  ;  more  corrupted  else. 
And  therefore  more  obno.xious,  at  this  hour. 
Than  Sodom,  in  her  day,  had  power  to  be, 
For  whom  God  heard  his  Abraham  plead  in  vain. 


mW'  m.^  ^ 


lastorals  for  Mn 


AIKIN'S    "WISH." 

AN    IDYL. 
Though  time  has  not  sprinkled  his  frost  on  my  head, 
Yet  some  of  its  blossoming  honors  are  shed  ; 
And  I  hope  I  remember,  without  being  told. 
If  wo  live  long  enough,  that  we  all  must  grow  old. 

So  let  me  set  down  in  a  humor  for  musing. 
Since  nothing  is  easier  than  wishing  and  choosing. 
And  gravely  consider  what  life  I  'd  commence, 
Should  I  reach  to  some  fifteen  or  twenty  years  hence. 
The  young  ones  swarmed  out,  and  all  likely  to  thrive. 
And  something  still  left  to  maintain  the  old  hive  ; 
I  'd  retire  with  my  dame  to  a  vill  of  my  own, 
Where  we  'd  nestle  together,  like  Darby  and  Joan. 
On  the  slope  of  a  hillock  be  placed  my  retreat. 
With  a  wood  at  the  back,  and  a  stream  at  its  feet ; 
In  front  be  a  meadow,  rich,  verdant,  and  gay, 
Where  my  horse  and  a  cow  may  find  pasture  and  hay. 

A  garden,  be  sure,  I  must  not  be  without. 
With  walls  or  high  hedges  well  fenced  all  about. 
All  blushing  with  fruit,  and  all  fragrant  with  flowers. 
With  dry  gravel-walks,  and  with  sweet,  shady  bowers. 
For  my  house,  if 't  is  lightsome  and  roomy  and  warm, 
Fit  to  take  in  a  friend,  and  to  keep  out  a  storm, 
I  care  not  a  straw  whether  brick,  stone,  or  plaster  ; 
And  if 't  is  old-fashioned,  why,  so  is  the  master. 

Of  poultry  and  pigeons  't  is  needless  to  speak. 
How  my  geese  they  shall  cackle,  my  sucking-pigs 
All  this  is  essential  to  good  country  fare  ;    [squeak  ; 
And  't  is  not  my  intention  to  live  upon  air. 
So  much  for  externals  ;  — and  now  to  myself, 
A  thing  more  important  than  dainties  and  pelf ; 
For  it  signifies  little  how  clever  the  plan. 
If  the  source  of  enjoyment  be  not  in  the  man. 

Unambitious  by  nature,  pacific  and  cool, 
I  have  not  many  turbulent  passions  to  rule, 
And,  when  rightly  matured  by  reflection  and  age, 
I  may  put  on  the  semblance,  at  least,  of  a  sage. 
But  let  me  beware  lest  I  sink,  in  the  close. 
Too  soon  in  the  arms  of  lethargic  repose. 
My  heart  void  of  feeling,  of  fancy  my  head. 
And  to  each  warm  emotion  as  cold  as  the  dead. 

0  sweet  sensibility  !  soul  of  the  soul ! 
Ill  purchased  the  wisdom  that  thee  must  control  : 
Of  thy  kindly  spirit  when  once  we  're  bereft. 
In  life  there  is  nothing  worth  living  for  left. 


Then  let  it  be  ever  the  chief  of  my  art 
To  foster  a  generous  glow  in  my  heart ; 
Give  way  to  efiusions  of  friendship  and  love, 
And  the  palsy  of  age  from  my  bosom  remove. 

My  boys  and  their  spouses,  my  girl  and  her  mate, 
Shall  come  when  they  please,  and  ne'er  knock  at  the 

gate  ; 
And  at  Christmas  we  '11  revel  in  mirth  and  good  cheer, 
Though  we  live  poorer  for  it  the  rest  of  the  year. 

An  old  friend  from  the  town  shall  sometimes  take  a 
And  spend  the  day  with  me  in  sociable  talk  ;  [walk, 
We  '11  discuss  knotty  matters,  compare  what  we  've 

And,  warmed  with  a  bottle,  move  gayly  to  bed. 


Wh 


renings  grow  long,  and  we're  gloomy  at 

To  vary  the  scene,  'mongst  my  neighbors  I'll  roam; 
See  how  the  world  passes,  collect  all  the  news. 
And  return  with  a  load  of  new  books  and  reviews. 

In  short,  't  is  the  sum  of  my  wish  and  desire. 
That  cheerfulness  ever  my  breast  should  inspire  ; 
Let  my  purse  become  light,  and  my  liquor  run  dry. 
So  my  stock  of  good  spirits  hold  out  till  I  die. 


nmg 


0  ask  in  the  finishing  scene, 

1  approving,  a  bosom  serene, 
To  rise  from  life's  banquet  a  satisfied  guest. 
Thank  the  Lord  of  the  feast,  and  in  hope  go  to  rest. 


MOSCHUS'S   "  CHOICE.' 

AN    IDYL. 


TRAKSLATED   BY   J. 


CHAPMAN, 


When  on  the  wave  the  breeze  soft  kisses  flings, 
I  rouse  my  fearful  heart,  and  long  to  be 
Floating  at  leisure  on  the  tranquil  sea  ; 

But  when  the  hoary  ocean  loudly  rings. 

Arches  his  foamy  back,  and  spooming  swings 
Wave  upon  wave,  his  angry  swell  I  flee  : 
Then  welcome  land  and  sylvan  shad^  to  me, 

Where,  if  a  gale  blows,  still  the  pine-tree  sings. 

Hard  is  his  life  whose  nets  the  ocean  sweep, 
A  bark  his  house,  shy  fish  his  slippery  prey  ; 

But  sweet  to  me  the  unsuspicious  sleep 

Beneath  a  leafy  palm,  —  the  fountain's  play, 

That  babbles  idly,  or  whoso  tones,  if  deep, 
Delight  the  rural  ear,  and  not  affray. 


0111  nil  i((c's 


"l\\in)    fvimcs. 


nOBBENOL,  OR  RURAL  GAMES. 


Proposition.  Invocation  to  Mr.  John  Philips,  author  of  the 
'Cirler'  poem.  Description  of  ttie  vale  of  Evesham. 
The  seat  of  Hohliinol.     Hobbinol,  n  great  man  in  his  vil- 

one  only  son.  Young  Hobbinors  education ;  bred  up 
with  (ianderetta,  his  ne.ir  relation.  Vourm  Hobbinol  and 
Ganderetta  chosen  Kill-  ii.!'*)  i,  rMiy.  Her  ilresa 
and  attendanU.    Tli.-  M        I-  ^m -clillo,  the  tid- 

dlnary  performance,     i-  ;    > m  the  llik'h- 

lands.  Milonides,  nia-i' 1  :  '.  i  i-  h  .  iplines  tlie  mol)  ; 
he  proclaims  the  several  prizes,  iiis  speech.  Pastorel 
takes  up  the  belt.  Ilis  cliaracter,  heroic  tlKure,  and  con- 
fidence. Hobbinol,  by  permission  of  Ganderetta,  accepts 
the  challenge,  and  vaulta  into  the  ring.  His  honorable 
behavior.  Escapes  a  scowerinp.  Gunderetta's  agony. 
Pastorel  foil  " 


Wn.\T  old  Menalcas  at  his  feast  revealed 
I  sing,  strange  feats  of  ancient  prowess,-  deeds 
Of  high  renown,  —  while  all  his  listening  guests 
With  eager  joy  received  the  pleasing  tale. 

0  thou  !  2  who  late  on  Vaga's  fiowery  banks 
Slumbering  secure,  with  stirom  »  well  bedewed. 
Fallacious  cask,  in  sacred  dreams  wert  taught 
By  ancient  seers  and  Merlin,  prophet  old. 
To  raise  ignoble  themes  with  strains  sublime, — 
Be  thou  my  guide  ;  while  I  thy  track  pursue 
With  wing  unequal,  through  the  wide  expanse 
i  range,  and  emulate  thy  flights. 


In  that  rich  vale,^  where  with  Dobunian  fields,^ 
Cornavian  «  borders  meet,  far-famed  of  old 
For  Montfort's  ^  hapless  fate,  undaunted  earl  ; 
AVhero  from  her  fruitful  urn  Avona  s  pours 
Uer  kindly  torrent  on  the  thirsty  glebe. 
And  pillages  the  hills  to  enrich  the  plains  ; 

1  This  poem  is  intended,  says  the  antlmr,  in  lii-  pn  far 

'as  a  satire  against   the   lu.xury.  j '"  ' ' 

quarrelsome  temper,  of  the  middliriL-  - 


thought  immoral,  are  ii. 

2  Mr.    John     Philips 

*  The    vale    of    Evesh 


On  whoso  luxuriant  banks  flowers  of  all  hues 
Start  up  .spontaneous,  and  the  teeming  soil 
With  hasty  shoots  prevents  its  owner's  prayer  : 
The  pampered  wanton  steer,  of  the  sharp  axe 
Regardless,  that  o'er  his  devoted  head 
lianas  menacing,  crops  his  delicious  bane, 
Nor  knows  the  price  is  life  ;  with  envious  eyo 
His  laboring  yoke-fellow  beholds  his  plight. 
And  deems  him  blest,  while  on  his  languid  nook, 
In  solemn  sloth,  ho  tugs  the  lingering  plough. 
So  blind  are  mortals,  of  each  other's  state 
Misjudging,  self-deceived. 

SQmRB  HOBDIXOL. 

Here,  as  supremo, 
Stem  Hobbinol  in  rural  plenty  reigns 
O'er  wide-extended  fields,  his  large  domain. 
The  obsequious  villagers  [him  mark]  submiss, 
Observant  of  his  eye,  or  when  with  seed 
To  impregnate  earth's  fat  womb,  or  when  to  bring 
With  clam'rous  joy  the  bearded  harvest  home. 


Here,  when  the  distant  sun  lengthens  the  nights, 
When  the  keen  frosts  the  shivering  farmer  warn 
To  broach  his  mellow  cask,  and  frequent  blasts 
Instruct  the  crackling  billets  how  to  blaze,  — 
In  his  warm  wicker-chair,  whose  pliant  twigs 
In  close-embraces  joined,  with  spacious  arch 
Vault  this  thick-woven  roof,  tho  bloated  churl 
Loiters  in  state  ;  each  arm  reclined  is  propped 
With  yielding  pillows  of  the  softest  down. 
In  mind  composed,  from  short  coeval  tube 
He  sucks  the  vapors  bland  ;  thick  curling  clouds 
Of  smoke  around  his  reeking  temples  play  ; 
Joyous  he  sits,  and  impotent  of  thought 
Puffs  away  care  and  sorrow  from  his  heart. 
How  vain  tho  pomp  of  kings  !  look  down,  ye  groat, 
And  view  with  envious  eye  the  downy  nest. 
Where  soft  repose  and  calm  contentment  dwell, 
Uubribed  by  wealth  and  unrestrained  by  power. 


One  son  alone  had  blest  his  bridal  bed. 
Whom  good  Calista  bore  ;  nor  long  survived 
To  share  a  mother's  joys,  but  left  the  babo 
To  his  paternal  care.     An  orphan  niece, 
Near  the  same  time,  his  dying  brother  sent 
To  claim  his  kind  support.     Tho  helpless  pair 
In  the  same  cradle  slept,  nursed  up  with  caro 
By  tho  same  tender  hand,  on  tho  same  breasts 
Alternate  himg  with  joy  ;  till  reason  downed, 
And  a  now  light  broke  out  by  slow  degrees. 


RURAL    POETRY. 


■  SOMERVILLE. 


CHILDHOOD   AND   fATHEIiHOOD. 

Then  on  the  floor  the  pretty  wantons  played, 
Gladding  the  farmer's  heart  with  growing  hopes 
And  pleasures  erst  unfelt.     Whene'er  with  cares 
Oppressed,  when  wearied,  or  alono  ho  dozed. 
Their  harmless  prattle  soothed  his  troubled  soul. 
Say,  Hobbinol,  what  ecstasies  of  joy 
Thrilled  through  thy  veins,  when,  climbing  for  a  kiss, 
With  little  palms  they  stroked  thy  grisly  beard. 
Or  round  thy  wicker  whirled  their  rattling  cars  ! 


Thus  from  their  earliest  days  bred  up,  and  trained 
To  mutual  fondness,  with  their  stature  grew 
The  thriving  passion.     What  love  can  decay 
That  roots  so  deep  !     Now  ripening  manhood  curled 
On  the  gay  stripling's  chin  :  her  panting  breasts. 
And  trembling  blushes  glowing  on  her  cheeks. 
Her  secret  wish  betrayed.     She  at  each  mart 
All  eyes  attracted  ;  but  her  faithful  shade. 
Young  Hobbinol,  ne'er  wandered  from  her  side. 
A  frown  from  him  dashed  every  rival's  hopes. 
For  he,  like  Peleus'  son,  was  prone  to  rage, 
Inexorable,  swift  like  him  of  foot, 
With  ease  could  overtake  his  dastard  foe, 
Nor  spared  the  suppliant  wretch. 


And  now  approached 
Those  merry  days,  when  all  the  nymphs  and  swains, 
In  solemn  festivals  and  rural  sports. 
Pay  their  glad  homage  to  the  blooming  Spring. 
Young  Hobbinol  by  joint  consent  is  raised 
To  imperial  dignity,  and  in  his  hand 
Bright  Ganderetta  tripped  the  jovial  queen 
Of  Maia's  gaudy  month,  profuse  of  flowers. 

THE  QUEEN   OF   THE   MAY. 

From  each  enamelled  mead,  the  attendant  nymphs 
Loaded  with  odorous  spoils,  from  these  select 
Each  flower  of  gorgeous  dye,  and  garlands  weave 
Of  parti-colored  sweets  ;  each  busy  hand 
Adorns  the  jocund  queen  :  in  her  loose  hair, 
That  to  the  winds  in  wanton  ringlets  plays. 
The  tufted  cowslips  breathe  their  faint  perfumes. 
On,  her  refulgent  brow,  as  crystal  clear. 
As  Parian  marble  smooth,  Narcissus  hangs 
His  drooping  head,  and  views  his  image  there  — 
Unhappy  flower  !    Pansies  of  various  hue. 
Iris,  and  hyacinth,  and  asphodel. 
To  deck  the  nymph  their  richest  liveries  wear, 
And  lavish  all  their  pride.     Not  Flora's  self 
More  lovely  smiles,  when  to  the  dawning  year 
Her  opening  bosom  heavenly  fragrance  breathes. 

THE  GATBEBING  UPON  THE   LAWN  ;    INKANCr  AND  AGE  ; 

See  on  yon  verdant  lawn  the  gathering  crowd 
Thickens  amain  ;  the  buxom  nymphs  advance 
Ushered  by  jolly  clowns  :  distinctions  cease, 
Lost  in  the  common  joy,  and  the  bold  slave 


Leans  on  his  wealthy  master  unreproved  : 
The  sick  no  pains  can  feel,  no  wants  the  poor. 
Round  his  fond  mother's  neck  the  smiling  babe 
Exulting  clings  ;  hard,  by,  decrepid  age. 
Propped  on  his  staEf,  with  anxious  thought  resolves 
His  pleasures  past,  and  oasts  his  grave  remarks 
Among  the  heedless  throng.     The  vigorous  youth 
Strips  for  the  combat,  hopeful  to  subdue 
The  fair  one's  long  disdain  ;  by  valor  now 
Glad  to  convince  her  coy,  erroneous  heart. 
And  prove  his  merit  equal  to  her  charms. 
Soft  pity  pleads  his  cause  ;  blushing  she  views 
His  brawny  limbs,  and  his  undaunted  eye, 
That  looks  a  proud  defiance  on  his  foes. 
Resolved  and  obstinately  firm  he  stands  ; 
Danger  nor  death  he  fears,  while  the  rich  prize 
Is  victory  and  love. 

THE  FIDDLER   A  WARWORN  SOLDIER. 

On  the  large  bough 
Of  a  thick-spreading  elm  Twangdillo  sits  : 
One  leg  on  Ister's  banks  the  hardy  swain 
Left,  undismayed  ;  Bellona's  lightning  scorched 
His  manly  visage,  but  in  pity  left 
One  eye  secure.     He  many  a  painful  bruise 
Intrepid  felt,  and  many  a  gaping  wound, 
For  brown  Kate's  sake,  and  for  his  country's  weal  : 
Yet  still  the  merry  bard  without  regret 
Bears  his  own  ills  ;  and  with  his  sounding  shell. 
And  comic  phiz,  relievos  his  drooping  friends. 
Hark,  from  aloft  his  tortured  catgut  squeals, 
He  tickles  every  string,  to  every  note 
He  bends  his  pliant  neck,  his  single  eye 
Twinkles  with  joy,  his  active  stump  beats  time  : 
Let  but  this  subtle  artist  softly  touch 
The  trembling  chords,  the  faint,  expiring  swain 
Trembles  no  less,  and  the  fond,  yielding  maid 
Is  tweedled  into  love. 

THE   MAT-DAY   DANCE. —ORPHEUS. 

See  with  what  pomp 
The  gaudy  bands  advance  in  trim  array  ! 
Love  beats  in  every  vein,  from  every  eye 
Darts  his  contagious  flames.  They  frisk,  they  bound  ; 
Now  to  brisk  airs,  and  to  the  speaking  strings 
Attentive,  in  mid  way  the  sexes  meet ; 
Joyous  their  adverse  fronts  they  close,  and  press 
To  strict  embrace,  as  resolute  to  force 
And  storm  a  passage  to  each  other's  heart : 
Till  by  the  varying  notes  forewarned,  they  back 
Recoil  disparted  :  each  with  longing  eyes 
Pursues  his  mate  retiring,  till  again 
The  blended  sexes  mix  ;  then  hand  in  hand 
Fast  locked,  arouftd  they  fly,  or  nimbly  wheel 
In  mazes  intricate.     The  jocund  troop, 
Pleased  with  their  grateful  toil,  incessant  shako 
Their  uncouth,  brawny  limbs,  and  knock  their  heels 
Sonorous  ;  down  each  brow  the  trickling  balm 
In  torrents  flows,  exhaling  sweets  refresh 
The  gazing  crowd,  and  heavenly  fragrance  fills 
The  circuit  wide.     So  danced  in  days  of  yore. 


SPRING  —  MAY. 


When  Orphous  played  a  lesson  to  the  brutes, 
The  IL-itcning  savages;  the  speckled  pard 
Dandled  the  kid,  and  with  the  bounding  roe 
The  lion  gambolled. 


But  what  heavenly  muso 
With  equal  lays  shall  Gandurotto  sing. 
When,  goddess-liko,  she  skims  the  verdant  plain, 
Gracefully  gliding?  every  ravished  eye 
The  nymph  attracts,  and  every  heart  she  wounds, — 
Thoo  most,  transported  Hobbinol !  Lo,  now. 
Now  to  thy  opening  arms  she  scuds  along, 
With  yielding  blushes  glowing  on  hor  cheeks. 
And  eyes  that  sweetly  languish  ;  but  too  soon, 
Too  soon,  alas  !  she  flies  thy  vain  embrace. 
But  flics  to  bo  pursued  ;  nimbly  she  trips, 
And  darts  a  glance  so  tender  as  she  turns. 
That,  with  new  hopes  relieved,  thy  joys  revive. 
Thy  stature  's  raised,  and  thou  art  more  than  man  ! 
Thy  stately  port,  and  more  majestic  oir. 
And  every  sprightly  motion  speaks  thy  love. 

THE  GAMES.  —  THE  DJ0PIPE3.  —  THE  MASTER  OF  THE  lUXO. 

To  the  loud  bagpipe's  solemn  voice  attend, 
Whose  rising  winds  proclaim  a  storm  is  nigh. 
Harmonious  blasts  !  that  warm  the  frozen  blood 
Of  Caledonia's  sons  to  love  or  war. 
And  cheer  their  drooping  hearts,  robbed  of  tho  sun's 
Enlivening  ray,  that  o'er  the  snowy  Alps 
Reluctant  peeps,  and  speeds  to  better  climes. 

Forthwith,  in  hoary  majesty  appears 
One  of  gigantic  size,  but  visage  wan, 
Milonides  the  strong,  renowned  of  old 
For  feats  of  arms,  but  bending  now  with  years. 
His  trunk  unwieldy  from  the  verdant  turf 
Ho  rears  deliberate,  and  with  his  plant 
Of  toughest,  virgin  oak,  in  rising  aids 
His  trembling  limbs  ;  his  bald  and  wrinkled  front, 

V-  •'-■■'-]  I  I    i'  •  i-,  .■■   I  ■•,  ■'    ].  I   !iii|fd  strokes 

•^'■"-I'^'i-  !'"■  "'""'i.  -"'I  ' -  'I n.-lewide. 

.Stern  iiibitor  !  like  sumu  huge  rock  ho  stands. 
That  breaks  the  incumbent  waves  ;  they  thronging 

In  troops  confused,  and  rear  their  foaming  heads 
Each  above  each,  but  from  superior  force 
Shrinking  repelled,  compose  of  stateliest  view 
A  liquid  theatre. 

THE  PRIZES  PROCLAIMED  BY  MILOSIDES. 

With  hands  uplift 
And  voice  stentorian,  he  proclaims  aloud 
Each  rural  prize.     '  To  him  whose  active  foot 
Foils  his  bold  foe,  and  rivets  him  to  earth, 
This  pair  of  gloves,  by  curious  virgin  hands    [gold. 
Embroidered,  seamed  with  silk,  and  fringed  with 
To  him,  who  best  tho  stubborn  hilts  can  wield. 
And  bloody  marks  of  his  displeasure  leave 


On  his  opponent's  head,  this  beaver  white, 
With  silver  edging  graced  and  scarlet  plume. 
Ye  taper  maidens  !  whoso  impetuous  speed 
Outflies  the  roe,  nor  bends  tho  tender  grass, 
See  here  this  prize,  this  rich-laced  smuck  behold. 
White  as  your  bosoms,  as  your  kisses  soft.       [gra 
Blest   nymph  !    whom  bounteous  [Fate's)  peeulii 
Allots  this  pompous  vest,  and  worthy  deems 
To  win  a  virgin  and  to  wear  a  bride.' 

THE  MOUNTAIN  CHAMPION,  PASTORBL. 

The  gifts  refulgent  dazzle  all  the  crowd. 
In  speechless  admiration  fixed,  unmoved  ; 
E'en  ho  who  now  each  glorious  palm  displays 
In  sullen  silence  views  his  battered  limbs, 
And  sighs  his  vigor  spent.     Not  so  appalled 
Young  I'astorel,  for  active  strength  renowned  : 
Him  Ida  bore,  a  mountain  shepherdess  ; 
On  the  bleak  wold  tho  new-born  infant  lay 
Exposed  to  winter  snows  and  northern  blasts 
Severe.     As  heroes  old,  who  from  great  Jove 
Derive  their  proud  descent,  so  might  ho  boast 
His  line  paternal  :  but  bo  thou,  my  muse  ! 
No  leaky  blab,  nor  painful  umbrage  give 
To  wealthy  squire,  or  doughty  knight,  or  peer 
Of  high  degree.     Him  every  shouting  ring 
In  triumph  croivned,  him  every  champion  feared 
From  Kiftsgate  to  remotest  Henbury.' 
High  in  tho  midst  tho  brawny  wrestler  stands, 
A  stately-towering  object ;  the  tough  belt 
Measures  his  ample  breast,  and  shades  around 
His  shoulders  broad  ;  proudly  secure  he  kens 
Tho  tempting  prize,  in  bis  presumptuous  thought 
Already  gained  ;  with  partial  look  the  crowd 
Approve  his  claim. 


But  Hobbinol,  enraged. 
To  see  tho  important  gifts  so  cheaply  won. 
And  uncontested  honors  tamely  lost, 
With  lowly  reverence  thus  accosts  his  queen. 
'  Fair  goddess  !  be  propitious  to  my  vows, 
Smile  on  thy  slave,  nor  Hercules  himself 
Shall  rob  us  of  this  palm  ;  that  boaster  vain 
Far  other  port  shall  learn.'    She,  with  a  look 
That  pierced  his  inmost  soul,  smiling,  applauds 
His  generous  ardor,  with  aspiring  hope 
Distends  his  breast,  and  stirs  tho  man  within  : 
Yet  much,  alas  !  she  fears,  for  much  she  loves. 
So  from  her  arms  tho  Paphian  queen  dismissed 
The  warrior  god,  on  glorious  slaughter  bent. 
Provoked  his  rogo,  and  with  her  eye  inflamed 
Her  haughty  paramour.     Swift  as  the  winds 
Dispel  tho  fleeting  mists,  at  once  he  strips 
His  royal  robes  ;  and  with  a  frown  that  chilled 
Tho  blood  of  tho  proud  youth,  active  ho  bounds 
High  o'er  the  heads  of  multitudes  reclined  : 
But,  OS  beseemed  one,  whose  plain  honest  heart, 


■Thet 


1  of  two  hundreds  In  Olouccslershire. 


92 


RURAL    POETKT. SOMERVILLE. 


Nor  passion  foul,  nor  malice  dark  as  hell, 
But  honor  pure  and  love['s  fond  flame]  had  fired, 
His  hand  presenting,  on  his  sturdy  foe 
Disdainfully  he  smiles  ; 


Then,  quick  as  thought. 
With  his  left  hand  the  belt,  and  with  his  right 
His  shoulder  seized,  fast  griping  ;    his  right  foot 

essayed 
The  champion's  strength  ;  but  firm  he  stood, 
Fixed  as  a  mountain  ash,  and  in  his  turn 
Repaid  the  bold  affront ;  his  horny  fist 
Fast  on  his  back  he  closed,  and  shook  in  air 
The  cumb'rous  load.     Nor  rest  nor  pause  allowed, 
Their  watchful  eyes  instruct  their  busy  feet ; 
They  pant,  they  heave  ;    each  nerve,  each  sinew 

strained. 
Grasping  they  close,  beneath  each  painful  gripe 
The  livid  tumors  rise,  in  briny  streams 
The  sweat  distils,  and  from  their  battered  shins 
The  clotted  gore  distains  the  beaten  ground. 
Each  swain  his  wish,  each  trembling  nymph  conceals 
Her  secret  dread  ;  while  every  panting  breast 
Alternate  fears  and  hopes  depress  or  raise. 


J  OF  THE  WRESTLIN 


KOPE-DANCER. 


Thus  long  in  dubious  scale  the  contest  hung, 
Till  Pastorel,  impatient  of  delay. 
Collecting  all  his  force,  a  furious  stroke 
At  his  left  ankle  aimed  ;  'twas  death  to  fall, 
To  stand  impossible.     0,  Ganderetta ! 
What  horrors  seize  thy  soul  !     On  thy  pale  cheeks 
The  roses  fade.     But  wavering  long  in  air, 
Nor  firm  on  foot,  nor  as  yet  wholly  fallen. 
On  his  right  knee  he  slipped,  and  nimbly  scaped 
The  foul  disgrace.     Thus  on  the  slackened  rope 
The  wingy-footed  artist,  frail  support ! 
Stands  tottering;  now,  in  dreadful  shrieks,  the  crowd 
Lament  his  fate,  and  yield  him  lost : 
He  on  his  hams,  or  on  his  brawny  rump, 
Sliding  secure,  derides  their  vain  distress. 


Up  starts  the  vigorous  Hobbinol  undismayed. 
From  mother  earth,  like  old  Anteus,  raised 
With  might  redoubled.     Clamor  and  applause 
Shake  all  the  neighboring  hills  ;   Avona's  banks 
Return  him  loud  acclaim  :  with  ardent  eyes. 
Fierce  as  a  tiger  rushing  from  his  lair. 
He  grasped  the  wrist  of  his  insulting  foe. 
Then  with  quick  wheel  oblique  his  shoulder  point 
Beneath  his  breast  he  fixed,  and  whirled  aloft 
High  o'er  his  head  the  sprawling  youth  he  flung  : 
The  hollow  ground  rebellowed  as  he  fell. 
The  crowd  press  forward  with  tumultuous  din  ; 
Those  to  relieve  their  faint,  expiring  friend, 
With  gratulations  these.    Hands,  tongues,  and  caps. 
Outrageous  joy  proclaim,  shrill  fiddles  squeak, 
Hoarse  bag-pipes  roar,  and  Ganderetta  smiles. 


The  fray.  Tonsorio,  Colip,  Hildebrand,  Cuddy,  Cinda- 
raxa,  Talgol,  Avaro,  Cabljin,  Collakin,  Mundungo.  Sir 
Rhadamanth,  the  justice,  attended  with  his  guards,  comes 
to  quell  the  fray.  Rhadamauth's  speech  ;  tumult  ap- 
peased. Gorgonias,  the  butcher,  takes  up  the  hilts  ;  his 
character.  The  Kiftsgatians'  coDsternation  ;  they  look 
wistfully  on  Hobbinol  ;  his  speech.  The  cudgel-playing. 
Gorgonius  knocked  down  ;  falls  upon  Twangdillo  •,  the 
fiddler's  distress  j  his  lamentation  over  his  broken  fiddle. 


Long  while  an  universal  hubbub  loud. 
Deafening  each  ear,  had  drowned  each  accent  mild  ; 
Till  biting  taunts,  and  harsh,  opprobrious  words 
Vile  utterance  found.     How  weak  are  human  minds! 
How  impotent  to  stem  the  swelling  tide, 
And  without  insolence  enjoy  success  ! 
The  vale-inhabitants,  proud,  and  elate 
With  victory,  know  no  restraint,  but  give 
A  loose  to  joy.     Their  champion,  Hobbinol, 
Vaunting  they  raise  above  that  earth-born  race 
Of  giants  old,  who,  piling  hills  on  hills, 
Pelion  on  Ossa,  with  rebellious  aim 
Made  war  on  Jove.     The  sturdy  mountaineers. 
Who  saw  their  mightiest  fallen,  and  in  his  fall 
Their  honors  past  impaired,  their  trophies,  won 
By  their  proud  fathers,  who  with  scorn  looked  down 
Upon  the  subject  vale,  sullied,  despoiled. 
And  levelled  with  the  dust,  —  no  longer  bear 
The  keen  reproach. 


But  as  when  sudden  fire 
Seizes  the  ripened  grain,  whose  bending  ears 
Invite  the  reaper's  hand,  the  furious  god 
In  sooty  triumph  dreadful  rides,  upborno 
On  wings  of  wind,  that  with  destructive  breath 
Feed  the  fierce  flames ;  from  ridge  to  ridge  he  bounds 
Wide  wasting,  and  pernicious  ruin  spreads  : 
So  through  the  crowd  from  breast  to  breast  swift  flew 
The  propagated  rage  ;  loud,  volleyed  oaths, 
Like  thunder  bursting  from  a  cloud,  gave  signs 
Of  wrath  awaked.     Prompt  fury  soon  supplied 
With  arms  uncouth ;  and  tough,  well-seasoned  plants 
Weighty  with  lead  infused,  on  either  host 
Fall  thick  and  heavy  ;  stools  in  pieces  rent. 
And  chairs,  and  forms,  and  battered  bowls,  are  hurled 
With  fell  intent ;  like  bombs  the  bottles  fly 
Hissing  in  air,  their  sharp-edged  fragments  drenched 
In  the  warm  spouting  gore  ;  heaps  driven  on  heaps 
Promiscuous  lie. 


COUN. 

Tonsorio  now  advanced 
On  the  rough  edge  of  battle  :  his  broad  front 
Beneath  his  shining  helm  secure,  as  erst 
Was  thine,  Mambrino,  stout  Iberian  knight !  — 
Defied  the  rattling  storm,  that  on  his  head 
Fell  innocent.     A  table's  ragged  frame 
In  his  right  hand  he  bore,  Herculean  club  ! 
Crowds,  pushed  on  crowds,  before  his  potent  arm, 
Fled  ignominious  ;  havoc  and  dismay 


SPRING  —  MAY. 


Hung  on  their  rear.     Colin,  a  morry  swain 
Clitlio  as  tbo  soaring  larli,  —  as  sweet  tlio  strains 
Of  his  soft  warbling  lips,  that  whistling  chcor 
His  laboring  team,  who  toss  thoir  heads  well  pleased. 
In  gaudy  plumage  decked,  —  with  stern  disdain 
Behold  this  victor  proud  j  his  generous  soul 
Brooked  not  tho  foul  disgrace.     Uigh  o'er  his  head 
His  ponderous  ploughstaff  iu  both  hands  ho  raised  ; 
Erect  ho  stood,  and  stretching  every  nerve, 
As  from  a  forceful  engine,  down  it  fell 
Upon  his  hollowed  holm,  that  yielding  sunk 
Beneath  tho  blow,  and  with  its  sharpened  edge 
Sheared  both  his  cars,  they  on  his  shoulders  broad 
Hung  ragged.   Quick  as  thought,  tho  vigorous  youth 
Shortening  his  staBf,  tho  other  end  he  darts 
Into  his  gaping  jaws.     Tonsorio  fled 
Sore  maimed  ;  with  pounded  teeth  and  clotted  gore 
Half-choked,  ho  fled  ;  with  him  tho  host  retired, 
Companions  of  his  shame  ;  all  but  the  stout. 
And  erst  unconquered  Uildebrand,  brave  man  ! 

eB  HILL-CHAMPIOX,  MAKES  BAVOC  ;  rXDBR- 


Bold  champion  of  the  liilN  '  tliy  wci^-hty  blows 
Our  fathers  felt  dismiiyr.l  ;    i-.  l,r.  |,  tli\  pn^t 
Unmoved,  whilom  thy  \;il'  i  -  <  h-i'  ■■.  ii"w  .<ad 
Necessity  compels  ;  deri(]at  n^w  with  iigu 
And  stiff  with  honorable  wuumi.'j, 
He  stands  unterrified  :  one  crutch  sustains 
His  frame  majestic,  the  other  in  his  hand 
Ho  wields  tremendous  ;  like  a  mountain  boar 
In  toils  enclosed,  ho  dares  his  circling  foes. 
They  shrink  aloof,  or  soon  with  shame  repent 
The  rash  assault ;  the  rustic  heroes  fall 
In  heaps  around.     Cuddy,  a  dexterous  youth. 
When  force  was  vain,  on  fraudful  art  relied  : 
Close  to  the  ground  low-cowering,  unperocivcd. 
Cautious  he  crept,  and  with  his  crooked  bill 
Cut  sheer  tho  frail  support,  prop  of  his  age  : 
Reeling  a  while  he  stood,  and  menaced  fierce 
Tho  insidious  swain  ;  reluctant  now  at  length 
Fell  prone,  and  ploughed  tho  dust.   So  the  tall  oak, 
Old  monarch  of  the  groves,  that  long  had  stood 
The  shock  of  warring  winds,  and  tho  red  bolts 
Of  angry  Jove,  —  shorn  of  his  leafy  shade 
At  last,  and  inwardly  decayed,  if  chance 
Tho  cruel  woodman  spy  tho  friendly  spur. 
His  only  hold  —  that  severed,  soon  ho  nods, 
And  shakos  tho  incumbered  mountain  as  he  falls. 


When  manly  valor  failed,  a  female  arm 
Restored  the  fight.     As  in  the  a<yuccnt  booth 
Black  Cindara.xa's  busy  hand  prepared 
Tho  smoky  viands,  she  beheld,  abashed, 
Tho  routed  host,  and  all  her  dastard  friends 
Far  scattered  o'er  tho  plain  ;  their  shameful  flight 
Grieved  her  proud  heart,  for  hurried  with  the  stream 
Even  Talgol  too  had  fled,  her  darling  boy. 
A  flaming  brand  from  off  tho  glowing  hearth 
The  greasy  heroine  snatched  ;  o'er  her  pale  foes 


Tho  threatening  motcor  shone,  brandished  in  air, 

Or  round  their  heads  in  ruddy  circles  played. 

Across  tlio  prostrate  Hildcbrand  sho  strode 

Dreadfully  bright ;  the  multitude  ap]>allcd 

Fled  different  ways,  their  beards,  their  hair  in  flames. 

Imprudent  sho  pursued,  till  on  tho  brink 

Of  tlio  next  pool,  with  force  united  pressed. 

And  waving  round  with  huge,  two-handed  sway 

Her  blaiing  arms,  into  tho  muddy  lake 

Tho  bold  virago  fell.     Dire  was  tho  fray 

Between  tho  warring  elements  ;  of  old 

Thus  JIulciber  and  Xanthns,  Dardan  stream, 

In  hideous  battle  joined.     Just  sinking  now 

Into  the  boiling  deep,  with  suppliant  hands 

She  begged  for  life  ;  black-ouso  and  filth  obscene 

Hung  in  her  matted  hair  ;  the  shouting  crowd 

Insult  her  woes,  and  proud  of  thoir  success 

The  dripping  Amazon  in  triumph  lead. 

THE     rally;     TALOOL    racks    CPOX     AVABO,    CCBBI.V    A.ND 


Now  like  a  gathering  storm,  the  rallied  troops 
Blackened  the  plain.    Young  Talgol  from  the  front, 
With  a  fond  lover's  haste,  — swift  as  the  hind 
That  by  the  huntsman's  voice  alarmed  had  fled. 
Panting  returns,  and  seeks  tho  gloomy  brake. 
Where  her  dear  fawn  lay  hid,  —  into  tho  booth 
Impatient  rushed.     But  when  tho  fatal  tale 
Ho  heard,  the  dearest  treasure  of  his  soul 
Purloined,  his  Cindy  lost ;  stiffened  and  pale 
A  while  he  stood  ;  his  kindling  ire  at  length 
Burst  forth  implacable,  and  injured  love 
Shot  lightning  from  his  eyes  ;  a  spit  he  seized. 
Just  reeking  from  the  fat  sirloin,  a  long. 
Unwieldy  spear  ;  then  with  impetuous  rage 
Pressed  forward  on  the  embattled  host,  that  shrunk 
At  his  npprr  :i'h      T!v  ri^h  Avaro  first, 
Hisflr-li.  'ill  dishonest  wounds. 

Fled  b.  II  i:  I  his  numerous  flocks. 

Nor  all  til.'  ;i-[.iMi,j  \'\  I ;i mills  that  grace 
His  yard  well  .<t..ri'd,  save  the  penurious  clown. 
Hero  Cubbin  fell,  and  there  young  CoUakin, 
Nor  his  fond  mother's  prayers,  nor  ardent  vows 
Of  love-sick  maids,  could  move  relentless  Fate. 
Where'er  ho  raged  .with  his  far-beaming  lanco 
Ho  thinned  their  ranks,  and  their  battle  swerved 
With  many  an  inroad  gored.     Then  cast  around 
His  furious  eyes,  if  haply  ho  might  find 
The  captive  fair  ;  her  in  the  dust  he  spied 
Grovelling,  disconsolate  ;  those  looks,  that  erst, 
So  bright,  shone  like  tho  polished  jet,  defiled 
With  mire  impure  ;  thither  with  eager  hasto 
He  ran,  he  flew.     But  when  tho  wretched  maid 
Prostrate  he  viewed,  deformed  with  gaping  wounds 
And  weltering  in  her  blood,  his  trembling  hand 
Soon  dropped  tho  dreaded  lance;  on  her  pale  cheeks 
Ghastly  ho  gazed,  nor  felt  tho  pealing  storm. 
That  on  his  bare  defenceless  brow  fell  thick 
From  every  arm  :  o'erpowercd  at  last,  down  sunk 
His  drooping  head,  on  her  cold  breast  reclined. 


94 


RURAL    POETRY. 


•  SOMERVILLE. 


Hail,  faithful  pair  !  if  aught  my  rerse  avail, 
Nor  envy's  spite,  nor  time  shall  o'er  efface 
The  records  of  your  fame  ;  blind  British  bards, 
In  ages  yet  to  come,  on  festal  days 
Shall  chant  this  mournful  tale,  while  listening  nymphs 
Lament  around,  and  every  generous  heart 
With  active  valor  glows,  and  virtuous  love. 


How  blind  is  popular  fury  !  how  perverse. 
When  broils  intestine  rage,  and  force  controls 
Reason  and  law  !     As  the  torn  vessel  sinks 
Between  the  burst  of  adverse  waves  o'erwhelmed  : 
So  fares  it  with  the  neutral  head,  between 
Contending  parties  bruised,  incessant  peeled 
With  random  strokes  that  undiscerning  fall  ; 
Guiltless  he  suffers  most  who  leasts  offends. 
Mundungo,  from  the  bloody  field  retired. 
Close  in  a  corner  plied  the  peaceful  bowl ; 
Incurious  he,  and  thoughtless  of  events. 
Now  deemed  himself  concealed,  wrapped  in  the  cloud 
That  issued  from  his  mouth,  and  the  thick  fogs 
That  hung  upon  his  brows  ;  but  hostile  rage 
Inquisitive  found  out  the  rusty  swain. 
His  short  black  tube  down  his  furred  throat  impelled. 
Staggering  he  reeled,  and  with  tenacious  gripe 
The  bulky  Jordan  that  before  him  stood 
Seized  falling  ;  that  its  liquid  freight  disgorged 
Upon  the  prostrate  clown  ;  floundering  he  lay 
Beneath  the  muddy  beverage  whelmed,  so  late 
His  prime  delight.     Thus  the  luxurious  wasp, 
Voracious  insect,  by  the  fragrant  dregs 
Allured,  and  in  the  viscous  nectar  plunged. 
His  filmy  pennons  struggling,  flaps  in  vain. 
Lost  in  a  flood  of  sweets.     Still  o'er  the  plain 
Fierce  onset  and  tumultuous  battle  spread  ; 
And  now  they  fall,  and  now  they  rise,  incensed 
With  animated  rage,  while  naught  around 
Is  heard  but  clamor,  shout,  and  female  cries. 
And  curses  mixed  with  groans.     Discord  on  high 
Shook  her  infernal  scourge,  and  o'er  their  heads 
Screamed  with  malignant  joy  ; 

BHADAMANTH,  THE  MAGISTBATB,  AND  HIS  OFFICIALS. 

When,  lo  !  between 
The  warring  hosts  appeared  sage  Rhadamanth, 
A  knight  of  high  renown.     Nor  Quixote  bold, 
Nor  Amadis  of  Gaul,  nor  Iludibras, 
Mirror  of  knighthood,  'ere  could  vie  with  thee, 
Great  sultan  of  the  vale  !  thy  front  severe. 
As  humble  Indians  to  their  pagods  bow, 
The  clowns  submiss  approach.     Themis  to  thee 
Commits  her  golden  balance,  when  she  weighs 
The  abandoned  orphan's  sighs,  the  widow's  tears  ; 
By  thee  gives  sure  redress,  comforts  the  heart 
Oppressed  with  woe,  and  rears  the  suppliant  knee. 
Each  bold  offender  hides  his  guilty  head. 
Astonished,  when  thy  delegated  arm 
Draws  her  vindictive  sword  ;  at  thy  command. 
Stern  minister  of  power  supreme  !  each  ward 


Sends  forth  her  brawny  myrmidons,  their  clubs 
Blazoned  with  royal  arms  ;  dispatchful  haste 
Sits  earnest  on  each  brow,  and  public  care. 
Encompassed  round  with  these  his  dreadful  guards. 
He  spurred  his  sober  steed,  grizzled  with  age 
And  venerably  dull  ;   his  stirrups  stretched 
Beneath  the  knightly  load  ;  one  hand  he  fixed 
Upon  his  saddle-bow,  the  other  palm 
Before  him  spread,  like  some  grave  orator 
In  Athens,  or  free  Rome,  when  eloquence 
Subdued  mankind,  and  all  the  listening  crowd 
Hung  by  their  ears  on  his  persuasive  tongue. 
He  thus  the  jarring  multitude  addressed  : 


'  Neighbors  and  friends  and  countrymen,  the  flower 
Of  Kiftsgate  !  ah  !  what  means  this  impious  broil  ? 
Is  then  the  haughty  Gaul  no  more  your  care '! 
Are  Landen's  plains  so  soon  forgot,  that  thus 
Ye  spill  that  blood  inglorious,  waste  that  strength, 
Which,  well  employed,  once  more  might  have  com- 
The  stripling  Anjou  to  a  shameful  flight  ?       [peiled 
Or  by  your  great  forefathers  taught,  have  fixed 
The  British  standard  on  Lutetian  towers  ! 
0  sight  odious,  detestable  !     0,  times, 
Degenerate,  of  ancient  honor  void  ! 
This  fact  so  foul,  so  riotous,  insults 
All  law,  all  sovereign  power,  and  calls  aloud 
For  vengeance  ;  but,  my  friends  !  too  well  ye  know 
How  slow  this  arm  to  punish,  and  how  bleeds 
This  heart,  when  forced  on  rigorous  extremes. 

0  countrymen  !  all,  all  can  testify 
My  vigilance,  my  care  for  public  good. 

1  am  the  man,  who  by  your  own  free  choice 
Select  from  all  the  tribes,  in  senates  ruled 
Each  warm  debate,  and  emptied  all  my  stores 
Of  ancient  science  in  my  country's  cause. 
Wise  Tacitus,  of  penetration  deep. 

Each  secret  spring  revealed  ;   Thuanus  bold 

Breathed  liberty,  and  all  the  mighty  dead. 

Raised  at  my  call,  the  British  rights  confirmed  ; 

While  Musgrave,  How,  and  Seymour  sneered  in  vain. 

I  am  the  man,  who  from  the  bench  exalt 

This  voice,  still  grateful  to  your  ears,  this  voice 

Which  breathes  for  you  alone.    Where  is  the  wretch 

Distressed,  who  in  the  cobwebs  of  the  law 

Entangled,  and  in  subtle  problems  lost. 

Seeks  not  to  me  for  aid  !     In  shoals  they  oomo 

Neglected,  feeless  clients,  nor  return 

Unedified  ;  scarce  greater  multitudes 

At  Delphi  sought  the  god,  to  learn  their  fate 

From  his  dark  oracles.     I  am  the  man 

Whose  watchful  providence  beyond  the  date 

Of  this  frail  life  extends,  to  future  times 

Beneficent ;  my  useful  schemes  shall  steer 

The  common-weal  in  ages  yet  to  come. 

Your  children's  children,  taught  by  me,  shall  keep 

Their  rights  inviolable  :  and  as  Rome 

The  Sibyl's  sacred  books,  though  wrote  on  leaves. 

And  scattered  o'er  the  ground,  with  pious  awe 

Collected  ;  so  your  sons  shall  glean  with  care 


SPRING — MAT. 


95 


My  hallowed  fragments,  every  script  divine 
Consult  intent,  of  more  intrinsic  wortli 
Than  half  a  Vatican.     Hear  me,  my  friends  ! 
Hear  me,  my  countrymen  !     0  suiTer  not 
This  hoary  head,  employed  for  you  alone, 
To  sink  with  sorrow  to  the  grave.'     Ue  spake 
And  veiled  his  bonnot  to  tho  crowd.     As  when 
The  sovereign  of  the  floods  o'er  tho  rough  deep 
His  awful  trident  shakes,  its  fury  falls, 
The  warring  billows  on  each  hand  retire, 
And  foam  and  rago  no  more,  —  all  now  is  hushed  ; 
The  multitude  appeased  ;  a  cheerful  dawn 
Smiles  on  the  fields,  the  waving  throng  subsides, 
And  the  loud  tempest  sinks,  becalmed  in  peace. 


Gorgonius  now  with  haughty  strides  advanced, 
A  gauntlet  seized,  firm  on  his  guard  ho  stood, 
A  formidable  foe,  and  dealt  in  air 
His  empty  blows,  a  prelude  to  tho  fight. 
Slaughter  his  trade  ;   full  many  a  pampered  ox 
Fell  by  his  fatal  hand,  the  bulky  beast 
Bragged  by  his  horns  ;  oft,  at  one  deadly  blow. 
His  iron  filst  descending  crushed  his  skull, 
And  left  him  spurning  on  the  bloody  floor. 
While  at  his  feet  the  guiltless  axe  was  laid.  »  * 
Sternly  he  gazed  around  with  many  a  frown. 
Fierce  menacing  provoked  the  tardy  foo  ; 
For  now  each  combatant,  that  erst  so  bold. 
Vaunted  his  manly  deeds,  in  pensive  mood 
Hung  down  his  head,  and  fixed  on  earth  his  eyes 
Pale  and  dismayed.     On  Hobbinol,  at  last, 
Intent  they  gaze,  on  him  alone  their  hope. 
Each  eye  solicits  him,  each  panting  heart 
Joins  in  the  silent  suit.     Soon  he  perceived 
Their  secret  wish,  and  cased  their  doubting  minds. 


3    SPEEOI 5     HE    A 
PARTISO   WIT 

'  Ye  men  of  Kiftsgate  !  whose  wide-spreading  fame 
In  ancient  days  was  sung  from  shore  to  shore, 
To  British  bards  of  old  a  copious  theme  ; 
Too  well,  alas  !  in  your  pale  cheeks  I  view 
Your  dastard  souls  ;  0  mean,  degenerate  race  ! 
liut  since  ye  call,  [and  every]  suppliant  eye 
Invites  my  sovereign  aid,  lo  !  here  I  come. 
The  bulwark  of  your  fame,  though  scarce  ray  brows 
Are  dry  from  glorious  toils,  just  now  achieved, 
To  vindicate  your  worth.     Lo  !  here  I  swear 
By  all  my  great  forefathers'  fair  renown. 
By  that  illustriuus  wicker  where  they  sat 
In  comoly  j^ii'l'.  :iii  i  in  t liuinpbant  sloth 
Gave  liiw  I"  1  .1    iv     .  I    .1  H<  ;  or  on  this  spot, 

In  glory'.-  | i' ,  > -:  I  i.'bbinol  expires. 

And  from  his  ikan-.L  Caiidcretta's  arms 
Sinks  to  death's  cold  embrace  ;  —  or  by  this  hand 
That  stranger  big  with  insolence  shall  fall 
Prone  on  the  ground,  and  do  your  honor  right.' 
Forthwith  the  hilts  he  seized  ;  but  on  his  arm 
Fond  Ganderetta  hung,  and  round  his  neck 
Curled  in  a  soft  embrace.     Honor  and  love 


A  doubtful  contest  urged,  but  from  her  soon 
He  sprung  relentless,  all  her  tears  are  vain  ; 
Yet  oft  ho  turned,  oft  sighed,  thus  pleading  mild  : 

'  111  should  I  merit  these  imperial  robes. 
Ensigns  of  majesty,  by  general  voice 
Conferred,  should  pain,  or  death  itself,  avail 
To  shake  tho  stewly  purpose  of  my  soul.  [man 

Peace,  fair  one  !  peace  !     Heaven  will  protect  tho 
By  thee  held  dear,  and  crown  thy  generous  love.' 
Her  from  tho  listed  field  the  matrons  sage 
Reluctant  drew,  and  with  fair  speeches  soothed. 

THE  BocT  wrrn  ccdoels.  —  hobbinol  BATfBns  THE  sins.'* 

ASn   SIDES   OE   COBGONira,   WHO    GETS   A   EALL,    BIT   HISI3 
IS    GREAT   WRATH. 

Now  front  to  front  the  fearless  champions  meet  ; 
Gorgonius,  like  a  tower,  whose  cloudy  top 
Invades  the  skies,  stood  lowering  ;  far  beneath 
The  stripling  Hobbinol  with  careful  eye 
Each  opening  scans,  and  each  unguarded  spaco 
Measures  intent.     While,  negligently  bold, 
Tho  bulky  combatant,  whose  heart  elate 
Disdained  his  puny  foe,  now  fondly  deemed 
At  one  decisive  stroke  to  win,  unhurt, 
An  easy  victory  ;  down  came  at  once 
The  ponderous  plant,  with  fell  malicious  rngo. 
Aimed  at  his  head  direct  ;  but  the  tough  hilts. 
Swift  interposed,  elude  his  eS'ort  vain. 
The  cautious  Hobbinol,  with  ready  feet. 
Now  shifts  his  ground,  retreating  ;  then  again 
Advances  bold,  and  his  unguarded  shins 
Batters  secure.    Each  well-directed  blow 
Bites  to  the  quick  ;  thick  as  the  falling  hail 
The  strokes  rednublod  penl  his  hollow  sides. 


A.,.l  -..•..  '..  I   ..  '        ■•   -i        '    I -""'l, 

An.l  •^u:,-\,.  .1  In-   I.  -  111,  .Hill  ii"i"  111-  I'l l-^■llot  eye 

Red  lightuiug  flush._'d  ;  tlu^  lii-ire  tumulUiuua  rage 
Shook  all  his  mighty  fabric  ;  once  again 
Erect  he  stands,  collected,  and  resolved 
To  conquer  or  to  die  :  swift  as  the  bolt 
Of  angry  Jove,  the  weighty  plant  descends. 
But  wary  Hobbinol,  whoso  watchful  eye 
Perceived  his  kind  intent,  slipped  on  one  side 
Declining  ;  the  vain  stroke  from  such  an  height. 
With  such  a  force  impelled,  headlong  drew  down 
The  unwieldy  champion  :  on  the  solid  ground 
He  fell,  rebounding  breathless  and  astunncd. 
His  trunk  extended  lay  ;  sore  maimed,  from  out 
His  heaving  breast  he  belched  a  crimson  flood. 
Full  leisurely  ho  rose,  hut  conscious  shame 
Of  honor  lost  his  failing  strength  renewed. 

THE  CRISIS.  —  HOBBISOI.  HIT,  BIT  CSCOSQCERKD  ;  SIMILE  OP 


Rage  and  revenge,  and  over-during  hate. 
Blackened  his  stormy  front ;  rash,  furious,  blind. 
And  lavish  of  bis  blood,  of  random  strokes 
He  laid  on  load  ;  without  design  or  art 
Onward  ho  pressed  outrageous,  while  his  foo 
Encircling  wheels,  or  inch  by  inch  retires. 


RURAL    POETRY. 


■  SOMERVILLE. 


Wise  niggard  of  his  strength.     Yet  all  thy  care, 
0  Hobbinol !  availed  not  to  prevent 
One  hapless  blow  ;  o'er  his  strong  guard  the  plant 
Lapped  pliant,  and  its  knotty  point  impressed 
His  nervous  chine  ;  he  wreathed  him  to  and  fro 
Convolved  ;  yet,  thus  distressed,  intrepid  bore 
His  hilts  aloft,  and  guarded  well  his  head. 
So  when  the  unwary  clown,  with  hasty  step, 
Crushes  the  folded  snake,  her  wounded  parts 
Grovelling  she  trails  along,  but  her  high  crest 
Erect  she  bears  ;  in  all  its  speckled  pride 
She  swells  inflamed,  and  with  her  forky  tongue 
Threatens  destruction.     With  like  eager  haste, 
The  impatient  Hobbinol,  whom  excessive  pain 
Stung  to  his  heart,  a  speedy  vengeance  vowed; 
Nor  wanted  long  the  means  :  a  feint  he  made 
With  well-dissembled  guile,  his  battered  shins 
Marked  with  his  eyes,  and  menaced  with  his  plant. 
Gorgonius,  whoso  long-suffering  legs  scarce  bore 
His  cumbrous  bulk,  to  his  supporters  frail 
Indulgent,  soon  the  friendly  hilts  opposed  ; 
Betrayed,  deceived,  on  his  unguarded  crest 
The  stroke  delusive  fell  ;  a  dismal  groan 
Burst  from  his  hollow  chest ;  his  trembling  hands 
Forsook  the  hilts  ;  across  the  spacious  ring 
Backward  he  reeled  ;  the  crowd  affrighted  fly 
To  escape  the  falling  ruin. 

TWANGDILLO'S  MISHAP.  —  BCTK   OF   HIS   FIDDLE. 

But,  alas  ! 
'Twas  thy  hard  fate,  TwangdiUo  !  to  receive 
His  ponderous  trunk  :  on  thee,  on  helpless  thee, 
Headlong  and  heavy  the  foul  monster  fell. 

Beneath  a  mountain's  weight,  the  unhappy  bard 
Lay  prostrate,  nor  was  more  renowned  thy  song, 
0  seer  of  Thrace  ! '  nor  more  severe  thy  fate. 
His  vocal  shell,  the  solace  and  support 
Of  wretched  age,  gave  one  melodious  scream. 
And  in  a  thousand  fragments  strewed  the  plain. 
The  nymphs,  sure  friends  to  his  harmonious  mirth, 
Fly  to  his  aid,  his  hairy  breast  expose 
To  each  refreshing  gale,  and  with  soft  hands 
His  temples  chafe  ;  at  their  persuasive  touch 
His  fleeting  soul  returns  ;  upon  his  rump 
He  sat  disconsolate  ;  but  when,  alas  ! 
He  viewed  the  shattered  fragments,  down  again 
He  sunk  expiring  :  by  their  friendly  care 
Once  more  revived,  he  thrice  essayed  to  speak, 
And  thrice  the  rising  sobs  his  voice  subdued,  — 
Till  thus,  at  last,  his  wretched  plight  he  mourned  : 

TWANGDILLO'S  LAMENT   FOR  ms  FIDDLE. 

'  Sweet  instrument  of  mirth  !  sole  comfort  left 
To  my  declining  years  !  whose  sprightly  notes 
Restored  my  vigor  and  renewed  my  bloom  ; 
Soft  healing  balm  to  every  wounded  heart ! 
Despairing,  dying  swains,  from  the  cold  ground 
Upraised  by  thee,  at  thy  melodious  call. 
With  ravished  ears  received  the  flowing  joy. 
Gay  pleasantry,  and  care-beguiling  joke, 
1  Orpheus. 


Thy  sure  attendants  were,  and  at  thy  voice 
All  nature  smiled.     But,  0,  this  hand  no  more 
Shall  touch  thy  wanton  strings  ;  no  more  with  lays 
Alternate,  from  oblivion, dark  redeem 
The  mighty  dead,  and  vindicate  their  fame. 
Vain  are  thy  toils,  0  Hobbinol !  and  all 
Thy  triumphs  vain.     Who  shall  record,  brave  man  ! 
Thy  bold  exploits  ?  who  shall  thy  grandeur  tell. 
Supreme  of  Kiftsgate  ?     Sec  thy  faithful  bard. 
Despoiled,  undone.     0  cover  me,  ye  hills  ! 
Whose  vocal  cliffs  were  taught  my  joyous  song. 
Or  thou,  fair  nymph,  Avona,  on  whose  banks 
The  frolic  crowd,  led  by  my  num.  i.ms  sti;nii.-, 
Their  orgies  kept,  and  frisked  it  .■"n  tli.'  -rr.  it. 
Jocund  and  gay,  while  thy  rcmiii  nuiruiL'  -Im  :iin> 
Danced  by,  well  pleased.    0  !  Kt  thy  Iric mlly  uavos 
O'erwhelm  a  wretch,  and  hide  this  head  accursed  ! ' 

So  plains  the  restless  Philomel,  her  nest 
And  callow  young,  the  tender  growing  hope 
Of  future  harmony,  and  frail  return 
For  all  her  cares,  —  to  barbarous  churls  a  prey  ; 
Darkling  she  sings,  the  woods  repeat  her  moan. 


3ood  eating  expedient  for  heroes.  Homer  praised  for  keep- 
ing a  table.  Hobbinol  triumphant.  Ganderetta's  '""  "^ 
fare.  Panegyric  upon  ale.  Gossiping  over  a 
Compliment  to  Mr.  .Tolin  Philips.  Ganderetta's  per- 
plexity discovered  by  Hobbinol  •,  his  consolatory  speech  j 
compares  himself  to  Guy,  Eai-l  of  Warwick.  Gantieretta 
encouraged  ;  strips  for  the  race ;  her  amiable  I 
Fusca,  the  Gypsy  ;  her  dirty  ligure.  Tabitha  ;  hei 
reputation  for  speed.  Tabitha  carries  weitrht.  *  * 
smock  race.     Tabitha's  fall.     Fusca'.*  short  Iriumpl 


lays  the  prize  at  her 
vicissitude  of  humai 
Mopsa,  formerly  his 
pears  to  him.    Mops; 


GOOD    EATING  EXPEDIENT  FOR  HEBOI 

Though  some  of  old,  and  some  of  modern  date. 
Penurious,  their  victorious  heroes  fed 
With  barren  praise  alone  ;  yet  thou,  my  muse  ! 
Benevolent,  with  more  indulgent  eyes 
Behold  the  immortal  Hobbinol  ;  reward 
With  due  regalement  his  triumphant  toils. 
Let  Quixote's  hardy  courage  and  renown 
With  Sancho's  prudent  care  be  meetly  joined. 

0  thou,  of  bards  supreme,  Mseonides  !  ^ 
What  well-fed  heroes  grace  thy  hallowed  page  ! 
Laden  with  glorious  spoils,  and  gay  with  blood 
Of  slaughtered  hosts,  the  victor  chief  returns. 
Whole  Troy  before  him  fled,  and  men  and  gods 
Opposed  in  vain  :  for  the  brave  man,  whose  arm 
Repelled  his  country's  wrongs,  ev'n  he,  the  great 
Atrides,  '  king  of  kings,  ev'n  he  prepares 
With  his  own  royal  hand  the  sumptuous  feast. 
Full  to  the  brim,  the  brazen  cauldrons  smoke, 
Through  all  the  busy  camp  the  rising  blaze 
1  Homer.  "  Agamemnon. 


SPRING  —  MAY. 


97 


Attests  their  joy  ;  heroes  and  kings  forego 
Their  state  and  pride,  and  at  his  elbow  wait 
Obsequious.     On  a  polished  uharger  placed, 
The  bulky  chine,  with  plenteous  fat  inlaid 
Of  golden  hue,  magnificently  shines, 
The  choicest  morsels  severed  to  the  gods. 
The  hero  next,  well  paid  for  all  his  wounds, 
The  rich  repast  divides  with  Jove  ;   from  out 
The  sparkling  bowl  ho  draws  the  generous  wine, 
Unmi.\ed,  unmeasured  ;  with  unstinted  joy 
Ills  heart  o'erflows. 

TOE   SliT-DAT    FEAST.  —  RCRAL   CHEER. 

In  like  triumphant  port 
Sat  the  victorious  Uobbinol  ;   the  crowd 
Transported  view,  and  bless  their  glorious  chief  : 
All  Kiftsgate  sounds  his  praise  with  joint  acclaim. 
Him  every  voice,  him  every  knee  confess, 
In  merit,  as  in  right,  their  king.     Upon 
The  flowery  turf,  earth's  painted  lap,  are  spread 
The  rural  dainties  ;  such  as  Nature  boon 
Presents  with  lavish  hand,  or  such  as  owe 
To  Ganderetta's  care  their  grateful  taste 
Delicious.     For  she  long  since  prepared 
To  celebrate  this  day,  and  with  good  cheer 
To  grace  his  triumphs.     Crystal  gooseberries 
Are  piled  on  heaps  ;  in  vain  the  parent  tree 
Defends  her  lu.Hcious  fruit  with  pointed  spears. 
The  ruby-tinctured  corinth  clustering  hangs. 
And  emulates  the  grape  ;  green  codlings  float 
In  dulcet  creams  :  nor  wants  the  last  year's  store  ; 
The  hardy  nut,  in  solid  mail  secure, 
Impregnable  to  winter's  frosts,  repays 
Its  hoarder's  cara     The  custard's  jellied  flood, 
Impatient  youth,  with  greedy  joy,  devours. 
Cheesecakes  and  pies,  in  various  forms  upraised. 
In  well-built  pyramids  aspiring  stand.  [suado 

Black  hams  and  tongues,  that  speechless  can  pcr- 
To  ply  the  brisk  carouse,  and  cheer  the  soul 
With  jovial  draughts.     Nor  does  the  jolly  god 
Deny  his  precious  gifts  ;  here  jocund  swains, 
In  uncouth  mirth  delighted,  sporting  quaff 
Their  native  beverage  ;  in  the  brimming  glass 
The  liquid  amber  smiles. 

AS    OOTBCRST    OF     PATRIOTISM    TPOX    THE     rRBSCn.  —  THE 
SPANISH  ARMADA.  —  BRITAIN  SALVABLE  BY   BEER. 

Britons,  no  more 
Dread  your  invading  foes  ;  Iet.tho  false  Gaul, 
Of  rule  insatiate,  potent  to  deceive, 
And  great  by  subtile  wiles,  from  the  adverse  shore 
Pour  forth  his  numerous  hosts  ;  Iberia  !  join 
Thy  towering  fleets  ;  once  more  aloft  display 
Thy  consecrated  banners  ;  fill  thy  sails 
With  prayers  and  vows,  most  formidably  strong 
In  holy  trumpery  ;  let  old  Ocean  groan 
Beneath  the  proud  Armada,  vainly  deemed 
Invincible  ;  yet  fruitless  all  their  toils. 
Vain  every  rash  eflbrt,  while  our  fat  glebe, 
Of  barley  grain  productive,  still  supplies 
The  flowing  treasure,  and  with  sums  immense 
Supports  the  throne  ;  while  this  rich  cordial  warms 
The  farmer's  courage, —  arms  his  stubborn  soul 


13 


With  native  honor,  and  resistless  rago. 

Thus  vaunt  the  crowd,  each  froeborn  heart  o'erflows 

With  Britain's  glory  and  his  country's  love. 


Here,  in  a  merry  knot  combined,  the  nymphs 
Pour  out  mellifluous  streams,  the  balmy  spoils 
Of  the  laborious  bee.     The  modest  maid 
But  coyly  sips,  and  blushing  drinks,  abashed  : 
Each  lover  with  observant  eye  beholds 
Her  graceful  shame,  and  at  her  glowing  cheeks 
Rekindles  all  his  fires  ;    but  matrons  sage, 
Better  experienced,  and  instructed  well 
In  midnight  mysteries,  and  feast-rites  old. 
Grasp  the  capacious  bowl ;  nor  cease  to  draw 
The  spumy  nectar.     Healths  of  gay  import 
Fly  merrily  about  j  now  scandal  sly. 
Insinuating,  gilds  the  speci^ius  talo 
With  treacherous  praise,  and  with  a  double  face 
Ambiguous  wantonness  demurely  sneers  : 
Till  circling  brimmers  every  veil  withdraw. 
And  dauntless  impudence  appears  unmasked. 
Others  apart,  in  the  cool  shade  retired, 
Silurian  cider  quafl*,  by  that  great  bard 
Ennobled,  who  first  taught  my  grovelling  muse 
To  mount  aerial.     0  !  could  I  but  raise 
My  feeble  voice  to  his  exalted  strains, 
Or  to  the  height  of  this  great  argument. 
The  generous  liquid  in  each  line  should  bound 
Spirituous,  nor  oppressive  cork  subduo 
Its  foaming  rage  ;  but,  to  the  lofty  theme 
Unequal,  muse,  decline  the  pleasing  task. 
Thus  they  luxurious,  on  the  grassy  turf. 
Revelled  at  large  ;  while  naught  around  was  heard 
But  mirth  confused,  and  undistinguished  joy. 
And  laughter  far  resounding. 

HOPES  AND   FEARS  OP  AMBITION. 

Serious  caro 
Found  here  no  place,  to  Ganderetta's  breast 
Retiring  ;  there  with  hopes  and  fears  perplexed 
Her  fluctuating  iiiin.l.     lliMirr  thi-  soft  sigh 
Escapes  unhci'il'-l.    [ii''  -r  .ill  Imi-  iii-t  ; 
The  trembling:  I.Ih-Im  -  .i,  1,,  r  l.^.^ly  ,-l„'.>l<s 

Alternate  ebb  iuni  fluv  ;   IV ilu'  full  ^'liu^s 

She  flies  abstcniiiius,  shuns  the  untasted  feast. 

But  careful  Hobbinol,  whose  amorous  eye 

From  hers  ne'er  wandered,  haunting  still  the  place 

Where  his  dear  treasure  lay,  discovered  soon 

ller  secret  woo,  and  bore  a  lover's  part. 

Compassion  melts  his  soul  ;    her  glowing  ohccks 

He  kissed,  enamored,  and  her  panting  heart 

He  pressed  to  his  ;  then  with  these  soothing  words, 

!  Tenderly  smiling,  her  faint  hopes  revived. 

I       ■  Courage,  my  fair  !  the  splendid  prijo  is  thine. 

I  Indulgent  fortune  will  not  damp  our  joys. 
Nor  blast  the  glories  of  this  happy  day. 
Hear  me,  ye  swains  !  ye  men  of  Kiftsgate  !  hear  : 
Though  great  the  honors  by  your  hands  conferred. 
These  royal  ornaments,  though  great  the  foroo 
Of  this  puissant  arm,  as  all  must  own. 
Who  saw  this  day  the  bold  Gorgonius  fall  ; 


RDEAL    POETRY.  —  SOMERVILLE. 


Yet  were  I  more  renowned  for  feats  of  arms, 

And  knigbtly  prowess,  than  that  mighty  Guy, 

So  famed  in  antique  song,  Warwick's  great  cail. 

Who  slew  the  giant  Colbrand,  in  fierce  fight 

Maintained  a  summer's  day,  and  freed  this  realm      j 

From  Danish  vassalage  ;  —  his  ponderous  sword, 

And  massy  spear,  attest  the  glorious  deed  ; 

Nor  less  his  hospitable  soul  is  seen 

In  that  capacious  cauldron,  whose  large  freight 

Might  feast  a  province  ;  —yet  were  I  like  him. 

The  nation's  pride,  like  him  I  could  forego 

All  earthly  grandeur,  wander  through  the  world 

A  jocund  pilgrim  in  the  lonesome  den. 

And  rocky  cave,  with  these  my  royal  hands 

Scoop  the  cold  streams  with  herbs  and  roots  content, 

Mean  sustenance  ;  could  I  by  this  but  gain 

For  the  dear  fair,  the  prize  her  heart  desires. 

Believe  me,  charming  maid  !    I  'd  be  a  worm. 

The  meanest  insect,  and  the  lowest  thing 

The  world  despises,  to  enhance  thy  fame.' 

So  cheered  he  his  fair  queen,  and  she  was  cheered. 

GASDEEETTi   PBEPABES   FOB  THE  RACE.  — UER  BEACTT. 

Now  with  a  noble  confidence  inspired 
Her  looks  assure  success,  now  stripped  of  all 
Her  cumbrous  vestments,  beauty's  vain  disguise, 
She  shines  unclouded  in  her  native  charms. 
Her  plaited  hair  behind  her  in  a  brede 
Hung  careless  ;   with  becoming  grace  each  blush 
Varied  her  cheeks,  than  the  gay  rising  dawn 
More  lovely,  when  the  new-born  light  salutes 
The  joyful  earth,  impurpling  half  the  skies. 
Her   heaving   breast,   through   the   thin  covering 

viewed, 
Fi.Ted  each  beholder's  eye  ;  her  taper  [limbs]. 
And  lineaments  exact,  would  mock  the  skill 
Of  Phidias  ;  nature  alone  can  form 
Such  due  proportion.     To  compare  with  her, 
Oread,'  or  Dryad,  or  of  Delia's  train, 
Fair  virgin  huntress  for  the  chase  arrayed 
With  painted  quiver  and  unerring  bow, — 
Were  but  to  lessen  her  superior  mien, 
And  goddess-like  deport.     The  master's  hand, 
Rare  artisan  !  with  proper  shades  improves 
His  lively  coloring  ;  so  here,  to  grace 
Her  brighter  charms,  next  her  upon  the  plain, 

FDSCA  AND  TABITHA,  HEB  COMPETITORS,  DESCRIBED. 

Fusca  the  brown  appears,  with  greedy  eye 
Views  the  rich  prize,  her  tawny  front  erects 
Audacious,  and  with  her  legs  unclean, 
Booted  with  giim,  and  with  hei  liLckled  skin. 
Offends  the  crowd      bhe^ot  the  gypsy  train 
Had  wandi  ud  I  ni   ii"!  the  ^un's  suorching  rays 
Imbrownid  1  nttul  to  mow 

Thespreali  \  rle  cant  deceive 

The  lovesi  I  iH  bci  store 

For  airy  \  i  i  I  hope 

Gorgoniu»,  il  the  cuiKut  lame  say  true, 


Her  comrade  once,  they  many  a  merry  prank 
Together  played,  and  many  a  mile  had  strolled, 
For  him  fit  mate.     Next  Tabitha  the  tall 
Strode  o'er  the  plain,  wifh  huge  gigantic  pace. 
And  overl.joked  the  crowd  ;  known  far  and  near 


Room  for  the  master  of  the  ring  ;  ye  swains  ! 
Divide  your  crowded  ranks.     See  !  there  on  high 
The  glittering  prize,  on  the  tall  standard  borne, 
AVaviug  in  air  ;   before  him  march  in  files 
The  rural  minstrelsy,  the  rattling  drum 
Of  solemn  sound,  and  th'  animating  horn. 
Each  huntsman's  joy  ;  the  tabor  and  the  pipe. 
Companion  dear  at  feasts,  whose  cheerful  notes 
Give  life  and  motion  to  the  unwieldy  clown. 
Even  age  revives,  and  the  pale,  [puling]  maid 
Feels  ruddy  health  rekindling  on  her  cheeks, 
And  with  new  vigor  trips  it  o'er  the  plain  ; 
Counting  each  careful  step,  he  paces  o'er 
Th'  allotted  ground,  and  fixes  at  the  goal 
His  standard  ;  there  himself  majestic  swells. 

THE  SMOCK-RACE. 

Stretched  in  a  line,  the  panting  rivals  wait 
Th'  expected  signal,  with  impatient  eyes 
Measure  the  space  between,  and  in  conceit 
Already  grasp  the  warm  contested  prize. 
Now  all  at  once  rush  forward  to  the  goal ! 
And  step  by  step,  and  side  by  side,  they  ply 
Their  busy  feet,  and  leave  the  crowd  behind. 
Quick  heaves  each  breast,  and  quick  they  shoot 

along 
Through  the  divided  air,  and  bound  it  o'er  the  plain. 
To  this,  to  that,  capricious  fortune  deals 
Short  hopes,  short  fears,  and  momentary  joy. 
The  breathless  throng,  with  open  throats,  pursue, 
And  broken  accents  shout  imperfect  praise. 
Such  noise  confused  is  heard,  such  wild  uproar, 
When  on  the  main  the  swelling  surges  rise, 
Dash  on  the  rocks,  and,  hurrying  through  the  flood. 
Drive  on  each  other's  backs,  and  crowd  the  strand. 
Before  the  rest  tall  Tabitha  was  seen 
Stretching  amain,  and  whirling  o'er  the  field  ; 
Swift  as  the  shooting  star  that  gilds  the  night 
With  rapid,  transient  blaze,  she  runs,  she  flies  ; 
Sudden  she  stops,  nor  longer  can  endure 
The  painful  course,  but,  drooping,  sinks  away, 
And  like  that  falling  meteor,  there  she  lies, 
A  jelly  cold  on  earth.     Fusca  with  joy 
Beheld  her  wretched  plight  ;  o'er  the  pale  corse 
Insulting  bounds  ;    hope  gave  her  wings,  and  now, 
Exerting  all  her  speed,  stop  after  step, 

1  Tewksbury,  in  the  vale  of  Evesham,  where  the  Avon 
runs  into  the  Severn. 

:  The  author's  vulgar  fling  at  the  dissenters, 
school  at  Tewksbury,  some  thU-ty- 


ers,  and  then-     i 
5  omitted.— J. 


At  Gandorotla's  elbow  urged  her  way, 
Hor  shoulder  pressing,  and  with  poisonous  breath 
Tainting  her  ivory  ncok.     Long  wliilo  had  hold 
The  sharp  eontest,  had  not  propitious  [fate]. 
With  partial  hands,  to  such  transcondaut  charms 
Dispensed  its  favors.     For  as  o'er  tho  green 
The  careless  gypsy,  with  incautious  speed. 
Pushed  forwai-d,  and  her  rival  fair  had  reached. 
With  equal  pace,  and  only  not  o'orpassed  — 
Haply  she  treads  where  late  tho  merry  train. 
In  wasteful  luxury  and  wanton  joy, 
Lavish  had  spilt  tho  cldc.'s  fmthy  flood, 
And  mead  with  eu- CM  1  m:...  1    -u  i  lii-r.I,  appalled, 
Andin  the  treac'lL.  I-     lii  i^.liiig  long, 

She  slipped,  sho  l.ll      u;    n  i       i  -   L.  supine, 
Extended  lay  ;  tl"-  l:"i-ln"-  imili  nn.li-, 
With  noisy  scorn,  appiovcJ  her  just  disgrace. 

TUB  TBICMPH  OF  GANDEBETTA. 

As  tho  sleek  leveret  skims  before  the  pack, 
So  flies  tho  nymph,  and  so  tho  crowd  pursue. 
Borne  on  tho  wings  of  wind  tho  dear  one  flies. 
Swift  as  the  various  goddess,'  nor  less  bright 
In  beauty's  prime  ;    when  through  the  yielding  air 
Sho  darts  along,  and  with  refracted  rays 
Paints  the  gay  clouds  ;  celestial  messenger. 
Charged  with  tho  high  behests  of  heaven's  great 
queen.' 

Hor  at  the  goal  with  open  arms  received 
Fond  Hobbinol ;  with  active  leap  he  seized 
The  costly  prize,  and  laid  it  at  her  feet. 
Then  pausing  stood,  dumb  with  excess  of  joy. 
E.tpressivo  silence  !  for  each  tender  glance 
Betrayed  tho  raptures  that  his  tongue  concealed. 
Less  mute  the  crowd,  in  echoing  shouts,  applaud 
Her  speed,  her  beauty,  his  obsequious  love. 

THE  KISG  AND  QUEEN  OF  TUE  MAY  }  THEIR  THRONES. 

Upon  a  little  eminence,  whose  top 
O'erlookcd  the  plain,  a  steep,  but  short  ascent, 
Placed  in  a  chair  of  state,  with  garlands  crowned. 
And  loaded  with  the  fragrance  of  the  spring. 
Fair  Ganderetta  shone  ;   like  mother  Evo 
In  her  gay  sylvan  lodge,  delicious  bower  ! 
Where  Nature's  wanton  hand,  above  the  reach 
Of  rule,  or  art,  had  lavished  all  hor  store 
To  deck  the  flowory  roof  ;  anrl  at  her  side 
Imperial  Hobbinol,  with  front  sublime. 
Great  as  a  Roman  consul,  just  returned 
From  cities  sacked,  and  provinces  laid  waste,  — 
In  hia  paternal  wicker  sat  enthroned. 

PCBLIO  APPLAUSE.  —  ITS  COILOWSESS. 

With  eager  eyes  the  crowd  about  them  press. 
Ambitious  to  behold  tho  happy  pair. 
Each  voice,  each  instrument  proclaims  their  joy 
With  loudest  vehemence  :  such  noise  is  heard. 
Such  a  tumultuous  din,  when,  at  the  call 
Of  Britain's  sovereign,  tho  rustic  bands 
O'erspread  the  fields  ;  the  subtle  candidates 
Dissembled  homage  pay,  and  court  the  fools 
Whom  they  despise  ;  each  proud  majestic  clown 

1  Iris,  the  rainbow, 


Looks  big  and  shouts  amain,  mad  with  tho  taste 
Of  power  supreme,  frail  empire  of  a  day  ! 
That  with  tho  sotting  sun  extinct  is  lost. 

-hoddinol's  sin 


Nor  is  thy  grandeur,  iinL-i  r.   IIMni  t  ! 
Of  longer  date.     Short  i  ■      i  '    '  " 

Of  mortal  pride  ;  wepli\  .'  i   i  i  ■     i  >     ilr, 
And  strut  upon  the  stugi- ;   lii.   -..im    i    .hiuigod, 
And  offers  us  a  dungeon  fur  a  tlirune. 
Wretched  vicissitude  !  for,  after  all 
His  tinsel  dreams  of  empire  and  renown. 
Fortune,  capiiii'u-  il;itni  ,  willi.lriuvs  at  once 
Tho  goodly  ]m-i'  i  ■    i.  i     In    '  ><  -  presents 
Her,  whom  lli^  ^li     i   "     ""I   ililHu-red  and  feared  ! 


i,,    '  i(  tho  crowd,  a  meagre  form 

\\  1 1 :  I  -ige  incomposcd  ! 

■\Vil.il,  I        I        !_:.■  .sparkled  in  her  eyes, 

And  poverty  sat  shriiiUing  on  her  cheeks. 
Yet  through  the  cloud  that  hung  upon  her  brows 
A  faded  lustre  broke,  that  dimly  slione, 
Shorn  of  its  beams,  — the  ruins  of  a  face. 
Impaired  by  time,  and  shattered  by  misfortunes. 
A  froward  babo  hung  at  her  flabby  breast. 
And  tugged  for  life  ;  but  wept,  with  hideous  moan, 
His  frustrate  hopes,  and  unavailing  pains. 
Another  o'er  her  bending  shoulder  peeped. 
Swaddled  around  with  rags  of  various  hue. 
He  kens  his  comrade  twin  with  envious  eye, 
As  of  his  share  defrauded  ;  then  amain 
He  also  screams,  and  to  his  brother's  cries 
In  doleful  concert  joins  his  loud  laments. 


0,  dire  effects  of  lawless  love  !    0  sting 
Of  pleasure  past !     As  when  a  full-freight  ship. 
Blest  in  a  rich  return  of  pearls  or  gold, 
Of  fragrant  spice,  or  silks  of  costly  dye. 
Makes  to  the  wished-for  port  with  swelling  sails. 
And  all  her  gaudy  trim  displayed  ;  o'erjoyed 
The  master  smiles  ;  but  if  from  some  small  creek 
A  lurking  corsair  the  rich  quarry  spies, 
Witli  all  her  sails  bears  down  upon  her  prey. 
And  peals  of  thunder  from  her  hollow  sides 
Clicik  his  triumphant  course, — agliast  ho  stands 
StiflVned  with  fear,  unable  to  resist. 
And  impotent  to  fly  ;  all  his  fond  hopes 
Are  dashed  at  onco  !  naught  now,  alas  !  remains 
But  the  sad  choice  of  slavery  or  death  !  — 
So  fared  it  with  the  hapless  Hobbinol, 
In  tho  full  blaze  of  his  triumphant  joy 
Surprised  by  hor,  whoso  dreadful  face  alone 
Could  shake  his  steadfast  soul.     In  vain  ho  turns 
And  shifts  his  place  averse  j  sho  haunts  him  still, 
And  glares  upon  him  with  hor  haggard  eyes. 
That  fiercely  spoko  her  wrongs. 

MOPSA'S  invective.  —  STORT  OF  HER  SEDI'CTION. 

Words  swelled  with  sighs 
At  length  burst  forth,  and  thus  sho  storms  enraged  : 


RUKAL    POETRY. SOMERVILLE. 


'  Know'st  thou  not  me  ?  false  man  !  not  to  know  me 

Argues  thyself  unknowing  of  thyself, 

Puffed  up  with  pride,  and  bloated  with  success. 

Is  injured  Mopsa  then  so  soon  forgot? 

Thou  ftnew'st  me  once,  ah  !  woe  is  mo  !  thou  didst. 

But  if  laborious  days  and  sleepless  nights; 

If  hunger,  cold,  contempt,  and  penury, 

Inseparable  guests,  have  thus  disguised 

Thy  once-beloved,  thy  handmaid  dear  ;  if  thine 

And  fortune's  frowns  have  blasted  all  my  charms  ; 

If  hero  no  roses  grow,  no  lilies  bloom. 

Nor  rear  their  heads  on  this  neglected  face  ; 

If  through  the  world  I  ruiiL't-  J  sli.^lit'.l  ^^li^de, 

The  ghost  of  what  I  w;i.s  l-il unkiinwii; 

At  least  know  these,     t^.r  '    il,.^    -u^i    -iiupering 

Dear  image  of  thyself  ;  set  !  li"«  it  >iiiuut-<     [babe. 

With  joy  at  thy  approach  !  see,  how  it  gilds 

Its  soft,  smooth  face,  with  false  paternal  smiles  ! 

Native  deceit,  from  thee,  base  man,  derived  ! 

Or  view  this  other  elf,  in  every  art 

Of  smiling  fraud,  in  every  treacherous  leer, 

The  very  Ilobbinol !  ah  !  cruel  man  ! 

Wicked,  ingrate  !  and  couldst  thou  then  so  soon, 

So  soon  forget  that  *  *  fatal  [hour]  when  me  *  * 

Thy  artful  wiles  betrayed  ?  was  there  a  star, 

By  which  thou  didst  not  swear  ?  was  there  a  curse, 

A  plague  on  earth,  thou  didst  not  then  invoke 

On  that  devoted  head,  if  e'er  thy  heart 

Proved  haggard  to  my  love,  if  e'er  thy  hand 

Declined  the  nuptial  bond  ?  but,  0  !  too  well. 

Too  well,  alas  !  my  throbbing  breast  perceived 

The  black  impending  storm  ;  the  conscious  moon 

Veiled  in  a  sable  cloud  her  modest  face. 


And  boding  owls  proclaimed  the  dire  event. 
And  yet  I  love  thee.  —  0  !  couldst  thou  behold 
That  image  dwelling  in  my  heart !  but  why, 
Why  waste  I  here  these  unavailing  tears  ? 


■  On  this  thy  minion,  on  this  tawdry  thing  ; 
On  this  gay  victim,  thus  with  garlands  crowned. 
All,  all  my  vengeance  fall !  Ye  lightnings,  blast 
That  face  accursed,  the  source  of  all  my  woe  ! 
Arm,  arm,  ye  furies  !  arm  ;   all  hell  break  loose  ! 
While  thus  I  lead  you  to  my  just  revenge. 

And  thus ' Up  starts  the  astonished  Hobbinol 

To  save  his  better  half.     '  Fly,  fly,'  he  cries, 
'  Fly,  my  dear  life  !  the  fiend's  malicious  rage.' 


Borne  on  the  wings  of  fear,  away  she  bounds. 
And  in  the  neighboring  village  pants  forlorn. 
So  the  coursed  hare  to  the  close  covert  flies. 
Still  trembling,  though  secure.     Poor  Hobbinol 
More  grievous  ills  attend  :  around  him  press 
A  multitude,  with  huge,  herculean  clubs. 
Terrific  band  !  the  royal  mandate  these 
Insulting  show  :  arrested  and  amazed. 
Half  dead  he  stands  ;  no  friends  dare  interpose, 
But  bow  dejected  to  the  imperial  scroll  : 
Such  is  the  force  of  law.     While  conscious  shame 
Sits  heavy  on  his  brow,  they  view  the  wretch 
To  Rhadamanth's  august  tribunal  dragged. 
Good  Rhadamanth  !  to  every  wanton  clown 
Severe  —  indulgent  only  to  himself. 


'yK'^^^ 


^^^^      -  ^  #- 


X 


%\u[\[  (Dhs  for  aia]). 

GRAY'S  ODE   ON  THE  SPRING. 

D.iWES'S  "  SONG    OF  SPRING."  , 

Lo  !  whore  the  rosy-bosomed  hours, 

'Tis  the  season  of  tender  delight,— 

Fair  Venus'  train,  appear. 

The  season  of  fresh-springing  flowers  ; 

Disclose  the  long-oxpcoted  flowers. 

Young  Spring  in  the  joy  of  her  beauty  is  bright, 

And  walce  the  purple  year  ! 

And  leads  on  the  rapturous  hours  ; 

The  attic  warbler  pours  her  throat, 

Fair  nature  is  loud  in  her  transport  of  pleasure, 

Responsive  to  the  cuckoo's  note, 

The  woods  and  the  valleys  receho  her  lay  ; 

The  untaught  harmony  of  Spring  : 

The  robin  now  warbles  his  love-breathing  measure, 

While,  whispering  pleasures  as  they  fly. 

And  scatters  the  blossoms  while  tilting  the  spray; 

Cold  zephyrs  through  the  clear  blue  sky 

One  impulse  of  tenderness  thrills  through  the  groves, 

Their  gathered  fragrance  fling. 

While  the  birds  carol  sweetly  their  innocent  loves. 

Where'er  the  oak's  thick  branches  stretch 

Uow  mild  is  the  zephyr  that  blows  ! 

A  broader,  browner  shade, 

What  fragrance  his  balmy  wings  bear  — 

Where'er  the  rude  and  moss-grown  beech 

He  breathes  a,s  if  fearful  to  brush  from  the  rose 

O'er-eanopies  the  glade, 

The  dew-drops  so  tremulous  there  ! 

Beside  some  water's  rushy  brink 

The  stream  flowing  gently  beside  the  green  cresses 

With  me  the  muse  shall  sit,  and  think 

So  lightsomely  dashes  their  tendrils  away  — 

(At  case  reclined  in  rustic  state). 

It  seems  some  fond  mother,  who  while  she  caresses, 

How  vain  the  ardor  of  the  crowd, 

Would  sportfully  chide  her  young  children  at  play. 

Uow  low,  how  little,  are  the  proud, 

Hear  the  minstrel-bcc  lulling  the  blossoms  to  rest. 

How  indigent  the  great ! 

For  the  nectar  he  sips  as  the  wild-flowers'  guest ! 

Still  is  the  toiling  hand  of  Care; 

Look  out,  then,  on  Nature  a  while, 

The  panting  herds  repose  ; 

Observe  her  inviting  theo  now,  — 

Yet  hark,  how  through  the  peopled  air 

Benevolence  beams  in  her  sunshiny  smile, 

The  busy  murmur  glows  ! 

And  blandishment  sits  on  her  brow  :        [flowing. 

The  in?.v.t  y„„th  nro  on  the  wing, 

Come  stray  with  me,  love,  where  the  fountains  are 

KaL'riiut;„i.il„.:„.,R.yed  spring, 

And  wild-flowers  cluster  to  drink  of  the  stream  ; 

.All.l   Hi. lit   :llni.|   Ihr  liquid  nOUU  : 

While  watching  the  lily  and  dafibdil  blowing. 

S....,r  li.LiU  ..'-i-ll,,.  ,-„n-ent.skim, 

No  moment  of  bliss  shall  so  exquisite  seem  ; 

t^nhP     -i:     r,     Ij,.   ,,     ,  <>Iy--il,loU  trim, 

flTien  nature  invites  theo,  0  !  why,  then,  delay  ; 

While  joy  is  still  waking,  away  -  love,  away  ! 

Such  is  thu  race  ..f  iVIan  ; 

PERCIVAL'S   "REIGN   OF   MAY." 

And  they  that  creep,  and  they  that  fly. 

I  FEEL  a  newer  life  in  every  gale  ; 

Shall  end  where  they  began. 

The  winds,  that  fan  the  flowers, 

Alike  the  busy  and  the  gay 

But  flutter  through  life's  little  day. 

Tell  of  serener  hours,— 

In  Fortune's  varying  colors  dressed  ; 

Of  hours  that  glide  unfelt  away 

Bruised  by  the  hand  of  rough  mischance, 

Beneath  the  sky  of  May. 

Or  chilled  by  age,  their  airy  dance 
They  leave,  in  dust  to  rest. 

The  spirit  of  the  gentle  south  wind  calls 
From  his  blue  throne  of  air. 

Methinks  I  hear,  in  accents  low, 

And  where  his  whispering  voice  in  music  falls. 

The  sportive,  kind  reply  ; 

Beauty  is  budding  there  ; 

Poor  moralist  !  and  what  art  thou  ? 

The  bright  ones  of  the  valley  break 

A  solitary  fly  !                                                   j 

Their  slumbers  and  awake. 

Thy  joy  no  glittering  female  meets, 

The  waving  verdure  rolls  along  the  plain. 

No  hive  hast  thou  of  hoarded  sweets. 

And  the  wide  forest  weaves. 

No  painted  plumage  to  display  : 

To  welcome  back  its  playful  mates  again, 

On  hasty  wings  thy  youth  is  flown  ; 

A  canopy  of  leaves  ; 

Thy  sun  is  set,  thy  spring  is  gone  —                  1 

And  from  its  darkening  shadow  floats 

Wc  frolic  while 'tis  May. 

A  gush  of  trembling  notes. 

102 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  MILTON  - 


ANACREON 


Fairer  and  brighter  spreads  the  reign  of  May  ; 

The  tresses  of  the  woods 
"With  the  light  dallying  of  the  west  wind  play, 

And  the  full-brimming  floods. 
As  gladly  to  their  goal  they  run. 

Hail  the  returning  sun. 


MILTON'S   *«MAY   MORmNG." 

Now  the  bright  morning  star,  day's  harbinger, 
Comes  dancing  from  the  east,  and  leads  with  her 
The  flowery  May,  who  from  her  green  lap  throws 
The  yellow  cuw^lip  and  the  pale  primrose. 
Hail,  bounteous  May  !  that  dost  inspire 
Mirth  and  youth  and  warm  desire  ; 
Woods  and  groves  are  of  thy  dressing, 
Hill  and  dale  doth  boast  thy  blessing. 
Thus  we  salute  thee  with  our  early  song, 
And  welcome  thee  and  wish  thee  long. 


HOLMES'S  "SPRING  SCENE." 
Winter  is  past  ;  the  heart  of  Nature  warms 
Beneath  the  wreck  of  unresisted  storms  ; 
Doubtful  at  first,  suspected  more  than  seen, 
The  southern  slopes  are  fringed  with  tender  green  ; 
On  sheltered  banks,  beneath  the  dripping  eaves, 
Spring's   earliest    nurslings   spread    their   glowing 

leaves, 
Bright  with  the  hues  from  wider  pictures  won. 
White,  azure,  golden,  — drift,  or  sky,  or  sun  : 
The  snowdrop  bearing  on  her  radiaut  breast 
The  frozen  trophy  torn  from  winter's  crest  ; 
The  violet  gazing  on  the  arch  of  blue 
Till  her  own  iris  wears  its  deepened  hue  ; 
The  spendthrift  crocus,  bursting  through  the  mould, 
Naked  and  shivering,  with  his  cup  of  gold. 
Swelled  with  new  life,  the  darkening  elm  on  high 
Prints  her  thick  buds  against  the  spotted  sky  ; 
On  all  her  boughs  the  stately  chestnut  cleaves 
The  gummy  shroud  that  wraps  her  embryo  leaves  ; 
The  housefly,  stealing  from  his  narrow  grave. 
Drugged  with  the  opiate  that  November  gave. 
Beats  with  faint  wing  against  the  snowy  pane, 
Or  crawls  tenacious  o'er  its  lucid  plain  ; 
From  shaded  chinks  of  lichen-crusted  walls 
In  languid  curves  the  gliding  serpent  crawls  ; 
The  bog's  green  harper,  thawing  from  his  sleep, 
Twangs  a  hoarse  note,  and  tries  a  shortened  leap. 
On  tlniitiii-  t;tiN  t}i:if  nice  the  softening  noon. 
The  still,  .Uy  tuitlr-  lange  their  dark  platoons, 
Or  t.iihii'j'.  ai.nlis-;,  (.Cr  the  mellowing  fields, 
Trail  through  the  grass  their  tessellated  shields. 
At  last  young  April,  ever  frail  and  fair, 
Wooed  by  her  playmate  with  the  golden  hair, 
Chased  to  the  margin  of  receding  floods. 
O'er  the  soft  meadows  starred  with  opening  buds. 
In  tears  and  blushes  sighs  herself  away, 
And  hides  her  cheek  beneath  the  flowers  of  May. 


ANACREON'S   ''SPRING.'^ 


TRANSLATED   FROM 


GREEK   BY   : 


Behold  the 'young,  the  rosy  Spring, 
Gives  to  the  breeze  her  scented  wing. 
While  virgin  graces,  warm  with  May, 
Fling  roses  o'er  her  dewy  way. 
The  murmuring  billows  of  the  deep 
Have  languished  into  silent  sleep. 
And  mark  !  the  flitting  sea-birds  lave 
Their  plumes  in  the  reflecting  wave  ; 
While  cranes  from  hoary  Winter  fly 
To  flutter  in  a  kinder  sky. 
Now  the  genial  star  of  day 
Dissolves  the  murky  clouds  away. 
And  cultured  field  and  winding  stream 
Ai"e  freshly  glittering  in  his  beam. 

Now  the  earth  prolific  swells 
With  leafy  buds  and  flowery  bells  j 
Gemming  shoots  the  olive  twine. 
Clusters  bright  festoon  the  vine  ; 
All  along  the  branches  creeping, 
Through  the  velvet  foliage  peeping, 
Little  infant  fruits  we  see 
Nursing  into  luxury. 


DRYDEN'S  "EMILY   A-MAYING." 

The  young  Emilia,  fairer  to  be  seen 
Than  the  fair  lily  on  the  flowery  green  — 
More  fresh  than  May  herself  in  blossoms  new  — 
For  with  the  rosy  color  strove  her  hue  — 
Waked,  as  her  custom  was,  before  the  day. 
To  do  the  observance  due  to  sprightly  May  ; 
For  sprightly  May  commands  our  youth  to  keep 
The  vigils  of  her  nights,  and  breaks  their  sluggard 

Each  gentle  breath  with  kindly  warmth  she  moves; 
Inspires  new  flames,  revives  extinguished  loves. 

In  this  remembrance,  Emily,  ere  day, 
Arose,  and  dressed  herself  in  rich  array  ; 
Fresh  as  the  month,  and  as  the  morning  fair, 
Adown  her  shoulders  fell  her  length  of  hair  ; 
A  ribbon  did  the  braided  tresses  bind. 
The  rest  was  loose,  and  wantoned  in  the  wind. 
Aurora  had  but  newly  chased  the  night. 
And  purpled  o'er  the  sky  with  blushing  light. 
When  to  the  garden  walk  she  took  her  way 
To  sport  and  trip  along  in  cool  of  day. 
And  offer  maiden  vows  in  honor  of  the  May. 

At  every  turn  she  made  a  little  stand. 
And  thrust  among  the  thorns  her  lily  hand. 
To  draw  the  rose  ;  and  every  rose  she  drew. 
She  shook  the  stalk,  and  brushed  away  the  dew  ; 
Then  parti-colnred  flowers  of  white  and  red 
She  wove,  to  make  a  garland  for  her  head  : 
This  done,  she  sung  and  carolled  out  so  clear. 
That  men  and  angels  might  rejoice  to  hear  ; 
Our  wondering  Philomel  forgot  to  sing, 
And  learned  from  her  to  welcome  in  the  Spring. 


^liiinsan's  "dniitlc   S^bcpljcrb." 


THE   PERSONS. 

Sir  William  WoiiTnT. 

PiTiB,  the  Gentle  Shepherd,  in  love  with  PcRgy. 
RocKR,  a  rich  young  stiepherd,  in  love  with  Jenny. 
SVM"^<.   l,„.,,    ,,i  =h,,,i,,r,l-M.-r,i,t-<  to  Sir  William. 


Madub,  Glaud'8 

Time  or  Actios  —  Within  twenty-four  hours. 
First  act  begins  at  eight  in  the  morning. 
Second  act  begins  at  eleven  in  the  forenoon. 
Third  act  begins  at  four  in  the  afternoon. 
Fourth  act  begins  at  nine  o'clocl<  at  night. 
Fifth  act  begins  by  day-light  next  morning. 


PATIE   AND   ROGER. 

SANG   I. 

TCXE.  — '  The  waukirtg  of  the/au/ds.' 

My  Peggy  is  a  young  tiling, 

.Tust  entered  in  lior  teens, 

Fair  as  tho  day,  and  sweet  as  .May, 

Fair  as  the  day,  and  always  gay. 

My  Peggy  is  a  young  thing, 

And  I  'm  not  very  auld. 

Yet  well  I  like  to  meet  her  at 

The  wauking  of  the  fauld. 

My  Peggy  speaks  sac  sweetly. 

Whene'er  wo  meet  alano, 

I  wish  nae  mair  to  lay  my  caro,  — 

I  wish  nao  mair  of  a'  that 's  rare. 

My  Peggy  speaks  sae  sweetly, 

To  a'  the  lave  I  'ra  cauld  ; 

But  she  gars  a'  my  spirits  glow. 

At  wauking  of  the  fauld. 


grease  to  smear  with,  and  the  making  of  cheese. 


My  Peggy  smiles  sae  kindly. 

Whene'er  I  whisper  love, 

That  I  look  down  on  a'  the  town,  :— 

That  I  look  down  upon  a  crown. 

Wy  Peggy  smiles  soo  kindly, 

It  makes  me  blyth  and  bauld  ; 
And  naething  gi'es  mo  sic  delight 
As  wauking  of  tho  fauld. 

My  Peggy  sings  sae  saftly, 

When  on  my  pipe  I  play. 

By  a'  the  rest  it  is  eonfcst,  — 

By  a'  the  rest,  that  she  sings  best. 

My  Peggy  sings  sae  saftly. 

And  in  her  sangs  aro  tauld. 
With  innocence,  tho  wale  o'  sense. 
At  wauking  of  the  fauld. 

This  sunny  morning,  Roger,  cheers  my  blood. 
And  puts  all  nature  in  a  jovial  mood. 
How  heartsonie  is  't  to  see  the  rising  plants,  — 
To  hear  the  birds  chirm  o'er  their  pleasing  rant«  ! 
How  halesome  is 't  to  snuff  the  cawler  air, 
And  all  the  sweets  it  bears,  when  void  of  care  ! 
What  ails  thee,  Roger,  then  ?  what  gars  theo  granc  ? 
Tell  me  the  cause  of  thy  ill-seasoned  pain. 


I'm  bom,  0  Patie  !  to  a  thrawart  fate. 
I  'm  born  to  strive  with  hardships  sad  and  great ! 
Tempests  may  ceaae  to  jaw  the  rowan  flood, 
Corbies  and  tods  to  grein  for  lambkins'  blood. 
But  I,  opprest  with  never-ending  grief. 
Maun  ay  despair  of  lighting  on  relief. 

The  bees  shall  loath  tho  flower,  and  quit  the  hi' 
The  saughs  on  boggio  ground  shall  cease  to  thrivi 
Ere  scornfu'  queans,  or  loss  of  warldly  gear, 
Shall  spill  my  rest,  or  ever  force  a  tear  ! 


Sao  might  I  say  ;  but  it 's  no  ca.«y  done 
By  ano  whase  saul  's  sae  sadly  out  of  tunc. 
You  have  sae  saft  a  voice,  and  slid  a  tongue. 
You  arc  the  darling  of  baith  auld  and  young. 
If  I  but  cttle  at  a  sang,  or  speak. 
They  dit  their  lugs,  syne  up  their  Icglens  cleek, 
And  jeer  me  hameward  frao  tho  loan  or  bught. 
While  I'm  confused  with  mony  a  vexing  thought. 
Yet  I  am  tall,  and  as  well  built  as  thoo. 
Nor  mair  unlikely  to  a  lass's  ee  ; 
For  ilka  sheep  ye  have,  I  '11  number  ten  ; 
And  should,  as  ane  may  think,  come  farther  ben. 


104 


RURAL    POETRY. RAMSAY. 


But  aiblins  !  nibour,  ye  have  not  a  heart, 
And  downa  eithly  with  your  cunzie  part ; 
If  that  be  true,  what  signifies  your  gear  ? 
A  mind  that's  scrimpit  never  wants  some  care. 

My  byar  tumbled,  nine  braw  nowt  were  smoored. 
Three  eif-shot  were,  yet  I  these  ills  endured  : 
In  winter  last  my  cares  were  very  sma', 
The'  scores  of  wathers  perished  in  the  snaw. 

Were  your  bein  rooms  as  thinly  stocked  as  mine, 
Less  ye  wad  loss,  and  less  ye  wad  repine. 
He  that  has  just  enough  can  soundly  sleep  ; 
The  o'ercome  only  fashes  fowk  to  keep. 


May  plenty  flow  upon  thee  for  a  cross. 
That  thou  ma/st  thole  the  pangs  of  mony  a  loss  ! 
0  may'st  thou  doat  on  some  fair  paughty  wench. 
That  "ne'er  will  lout  thy  lowan  drowth  to  quench  ; 
Till  bris'd  beneath  the  burden,  thou  cry  dool  ; 
And  awn  that  ane  may  fret  that  is  nae  fool. 


Sax  good  fat  lambs,  I  said  them  ilka  clute 
At  the  West-port,  and  bought  a  winsome  flute, 
Of  plum-tree  made,  with  iv'ry  virles  round, 
A  dainty  whistle,  with  a  pleasant  sound  : 
I  '11  be  mair  canty  wi't,  —  and  near  cry  dool,  — 
Than  you  with  all  your  cash,  ye  dowie  fool ! 

HOGEB. 

Na  Patie,  na  !  I  'm  nae  sic  churlish  beast ; 
Some 'other  thing  lies  heavier  at  my  breast. 
I  dreamed  a  dreary  dream  this  hinder  night. 
That  gars  my  flesh  a'  creep  yet  with  the  fright. 

PATIE. 

Now,  to  a  friend,  how  silly's  this  pretence,— 
To  ane  wha  you  and  a'  your  secrets  kens  ! 
Daft  are  your  dreams,  as  daftly  wad  ye  hide 
Your  well-seen  love,  and  dorty  Jenny's  pride. 
Take  courage,  Roger,  me  your  sorrows  tell, 
And  safely  think  nane  kens  them  but  yoursell. 

Indeed  now,  Patie,  ye  have  guessed  o'er  true  ; 
And  there  is  naithing  I'll  keep  up  frae  you. 
Me  dorty  Jenny  looks  upon  asquint, 
To  speak  but  till  her  I  dare  hardly  mint ; 
In  ilka  place  she  jeers  me  air  and  late, 
And  gars  me  look  bombaz'd  and  unco  blate. 
But  yesterday  I  met  her  yont  a  knowe,  — 
She  fled  as  frae  a  shelly-coated  kow. 
She  Bauldy  looes,  Bauldy  that  drives  the  car. 
But  geeks  at  me,  and  says  I  smell  of  tar. 

PATIE. 

But  Bauldy  looes  not  her.     Right  well  I  wat 
He  sighs  for  Neps.     Sae  that  may  stand  for  that. 


I  wish  I  cou'dna  looe  her  ;  —but  in  vain  ; 
I  still  maun  doat,  and  thole  her  proud  disdain. 
My  Bawty  is  a  cur  I  dearly  like, 
Till  he  yowl'd  sairi  she  strak  the  poor  dumb  tyke. 
If  I  had  filled  a  nook  within  her  breast. 
She  wad  have  shawn  mair  kindness  to  my  beast. 
When  I  begin  to  tune  my  stock  and  horn, 
With  a'  her  face  she  shaws  a  canldrife  scorn. 
Last  night  I  played  — ye  never  heard  sic  spite  — 
'  Qtr  Bogie'  was  the  spring,  and  her  delyte,— 
Yet  tauntingly  she  at  her  cousin  speered, 
Gif  she  could  tell  what  tune  I  played,  and  sneered  ! 
Flocks,  wander  where  ye  like,  I  Uinna  care, 
I  'U  break  my  reed,  and  never  whistle  mair  ! 

E'en  do  sae,  Roger,  wha  can  help  misluck  ? 
Saebeins  she  be  sic  a  thrawn-gabbit  chuck,  — 
Yonder 's  a  craig,  since  ye  have  tint  all  houp, 
Gae  till 't  your  ways,  and  take  the  lover's  lowp  ! 

BOGER. 

I  needna  mak  sic  speed  my  blood  to  spill  ; 
I  '11  warrant  death  como  soon  enough  a-will. 


Daft  gowk  !  leave  aff  that  silly  whingin  way,  — 
Seem  careless,  —  there 's  my  hand  ye  '11  win  the  day. 
Hear  how  I  served  my  lass  I  looe  as  weel 
As  ye  do  Jenny,  and  with  heart  as  leel. 
Last  morning  I  was  gay  and  early  out. 
Upon  a  dyke  I  leaned  glowring  about, 
I  saw  my  Meg  come  linking  o'er  the  lee  ; 
I  saw  my  Meg,  but  Meggy  saw  na  me  ; 
For  yet  the  sun  was  wading  thro'  the  mist. 
And  she  was  close  upon  me  e'er  she  wist ; 
Her  coats  were  kiltit,  and  did  sweetly  shaw 
Her  straight  bare  legs  that  whiter  were  than  snaw. 
Her  eockernony  snooded  up  fou  sleek. 
Her  hafi'et  locks  hang  waving  on  her  cheek  ; 
Her  cheek  sae  ruddy,  and  her  een  sae  clear  ; 
And  0  !  her  mouth 's  like  ony  hinny  pear. 
Neat,  neat  she  was,  in  bustine  waistcoat  clean, 
As  she  came  skiffing  o'er  the  dewy  green  : 
Blythsome  I  cried,  '  My  bonny  Meg,  come  here, 
I  ferly  wherefore  ye  're  sae  soon  asteer  ; 
But  I  can  guess,  ye  're  gawn  to  gather  dew.' 
She  scoured  awa,  and  said,  'What's  that  to  you?' 
'  Then,  fare  ye  weel,  Meg-dorts;  and  e'en 's  ye  like  ? 
I  careless  cryed,  and  lap  in  o'er  the  dyke. 
I  trow,  when  that  she  saw,  within  a  crack. 
She  came  with  a  right  thieveless  errand  back  ; 
Miscawed  me  first ;  then  bad  me  hound  my  dog, 
To  wear  up  three  waff  ewes  strayed  on  the  bog. 
I  leugh  ;  and  sae  did  she  ;  then  with  great  haste 
I  clasped  my  arms  about  her  neck  and  waist ; 
About  her  yielding  waist,  and  took  a  fouth 
Of  sweetest  kisses  frae  her  glowing  mouth. 


'  Even  while  r 


'  — Edition  0/ 1808. 


SPRING  —  MAT. 


105 


While  bard  and  fast  I  bold  hor  in  my  grips, 
My  very  saul  came  lowping  tu  my  lips. 
Sair,  sair  sbe  flet  wi'  me  'tween  ilka  smaok, 
But  wecl  I  kend  sbe  meant  nae  as  she  spak. 
Dear  Roger,  when  your  jo  puts  on  her  gloom, 
Do  ye  sae  too,  and  never  fash  your  thumb  : 
Seem  to  forsake  her,  soon  sbe  '11  change  her  mood  ; 
Gae  woo  anithor,  and  she  '11  gang  clean  wood. 

SANG   II. 

Dear  Roger,  if  your  Jenny  geek, 

And  answer  kindnc^rs  with  ii  ylight, 
Seem  unconcerned  at  her  ne^^Ieet, 

But  them  despise  who  're  soon  defeat. 
And,  with  a  simple  face,  give  way 

To  a  repulse  ;  —  then  be  not  blate. 
Push  bauldly  on,  and  win  the  day. 

When  maiden?,  innocently  young, 

Say  often  what  they  never  mean, 
Ne'er  mind  their  pretty,  lying  tongue, 

But  tont  the  language  of  their  een  : 
If  these  agree,  and  she  persist 

To  answer  all  your  love  with  hate. 
Seek  elsewhere  to  bo  better  blest, 

And  let  her  sigh  when  't  is  too  late. 


Kind  Patio,  now  foir  fa'  your  honest  heart. 
Ye  're  ay  sae  eadgy,  and  have  sic  an  art 
To  hearten  ane  !  for  now,  as  clean 's  a  leek. 
Ye  've  cherished  me  since  ye  began  to  speak. 
Sae,  for  your  pains,  I'll  make  ye  a  propino 
(My  mother,  rest  ber  saul !  she  made  it  fine); 
A  tartan  plaid,  spun  of  good  bawsloek  woo. 
Scarlet  and  green  the  sets,  the  borders  blue  ; 
'With  spraings  like  gowd  and  sillercrossed  with  black ; 
I  never  had  it  yet  upon  my  back. 
Wool  are  ye  wordy  o'  't,  wha  have  sae  kind 
Redd  up  my  ravel'd  doubts,  and  cleared  my  mind. 


Weel,  had  ye  there !  And  since  yo  've  frankly  made 
To  me  a  present  of  your  braw  new  plaid, 

ite's  be  yours  ;  and  she  too  that 's  sae  nice 
3ome  a-will,  gif  yc  '11  take  my  advice. 


My  fli 
Shall 


As  ye  advL-^e,  I  '11  promise  to  observ't ; 
But  ye  maun  keep  the  flute,  ye  best  desen 
Now  tak  it  out,  and  gic  's  a  bonny  spring, 
For  I  'm  in  tift  to  hear  you  play  and  sing. 


But  first  we'll  take  a  turn  up  to  the  height, 
And  see  gif  all  our  flocks  bo  feeding  right ; 
Bo  that  time  bannocks,  and  a  shave  of  cheese, 
Will  make  a  breakfast  that  a  laird  might  pleai 


14 


Might  plea-so  the  daintiest  gabs  wore  thoy  sao  wise 
To  season  meat  with  health,  instead  of  spice. 
When  we  have  tano  the  grace  drink  at  this  well, 
I'll  whistle  syne,  and  sing  t'ye  liko  mysell. 

[JSxeun/.] 

SCENK    II. 


PEOOY    A.VD   JESSY. 


Come,  Meg,  lot 's  fa'  to  wark  upon  this  green, 
This  shining  day  will  bleach  our  linen  clean  ; 
The  water's  clear,  the  lift  unclouded  blue, 
Will  make  them  liko  a  lily  wet  with  dew. 


Gao  farer  up  the  burn  to  Hobbie's  Dow, 
Where  a'  the  sweets  of  spring  and  simmer  grow. 
Between  twa  birks,  out  o'er  a  little  lin, 
The  water  fa's,  and  maks  a  singand  din  : 
A  pool  breast-deep,  beneath  as  clear  as  glass. 
Kisses  with  easy  whirles  the  bordering  grass. 
We'll  end  our  washing  while  the  morning's  cool  ; 
And  when  the  day  grows  bet,  we  '11  to  the  pool. 
There  wash  oursells  ;  't  is  bealtbfu'  now  in  May, 
And  sweetly  cauler  on  sae  warm  a  day. 

JEXXV. 

Daft  lassife,  when  wo  're  naked,  what  '11  yo  say, 
Gif  our  twa  herds  eome  brattling  down  the  brae, 
And  see  us  sae  ?  —  that  jeering  fallow.  Pate, 
Wad  taunting  say,  'Ilaith,  lasses,  yo're  no  blate  ! 

PBOGV. 

We  're  far  frao  ony  road,  and  out  of  sight ; 
The  lads,  they're  feeding  far  boyont  the  height. 
But  tell  me  —  now,  dear  Jenny,  we  're  our  lane  — 
What  gars  ye  plague  your  wooer  with  disdain?- 
The  neighbors  a'  tont  this  as  weel  as  I, 
That  Roger  loo's  ye,  yet  yo  earena  by. 
What  ails  ye  at  bim  7     Troth,  between  us  twa. 
He  's  wordy  you  the  best  day  e'er  yo  saw  ! 


I  dinna  like  him,  Peggy,  there's  an  end  ! 
A  herd  mair  sheepish  yet  I  never  kenned. 
He  kames  bis  hair,  indeed,  and  gaes  right  snug, 
With  ribbon-knots  at  his  blue  bonnet  lug  ; 
Whilk  pensylie  bo  wears  a  thought  a-jee. 
And  spreads  liis  garters  dic'd  beneath  his  knee  ; 
Ho  falds  his  owrclay  down  bis  breast  with  care. 
And  few  gangs  trigger  to  the  kirk  or  fair  ; 
For  a'  that,  ho  can  neither  sing  nor  say. 
Except,  '  How  d'  ye  ? '  —  or,  '  There 's  a  bonny  day.' 


106 


RURAL    POETRY. RAMSAY. 


Te  dash  the  lad  with  constant  slighting  pride  ; 
Hatred  for  love  is  unco  sair  to  bide. 
But  ye  '11  repent  ye,  if  his  love  grow  oauld. 
What  liUes  a  dorty  maiden  when  she  's  auld  ?  — 
Like  dawted  wean,  that  tarrows  at  its  meat, 
That  for  some  feckless  whim  will  orp  and  greet : 
The  lave  laugh  at  it  till  the  dinner 's  past, 
And  syne  the  fool  thing  is  obliged  to  fast, 
Or  scart  anither's  leavings  at  the  last. 
Fy,  Jenny,  think,  and  dinna  sit  your  time  ! 


TCSE. 


'  Polwa 


The  dorty  will  repent, 

If  lover's  heart  grow  cauld  ; 

And  nane  her  smiles  will  tent, 
Soon  as  her  face  looks  auld. 

The  dawted  bairn  thus  takes  the  pet, 
Nor  eats  though  hunger  crave  ; 

Whimpers  and  tarrows  at  its  meat, 
And 's  laught  at  by  the  lave. 

They  jest  it  till  the  dinner 's  past, 

Thus  by  itself  abused. 
The  fool  thing  is  obliged  to  fast. 

Or  eat  what  they  've  refused. 


I  never  thought  a  single  life  a  crime  ! 

Nor  I  :  but  love  in  whispers  lets  us  ken, 
That  men  were  made  for  us,  and  we  for  men. 

If  Roger  is  my  jo,  he  kens  himsell, 
For  sic  a  tale  I  never  heard  him  tell. 
He  glowrs  and  sighs,  and  I  can  guess  the  cause  ; 
But  wha's  obliged  to  spell  his  hums  and  haws? 
Whene'er  he  likes  to  tell  his  mind  mair  plain, 
I  'se  tell  him  frankly  ne'er  to  do 't  again. 
They  're  fools  that  slav'ry  like,  and  may  be  free  ; 
The  ohiels  may  a'  knit  up  themselves  for  me  ! 

Be  doing  your  ways  !  for  me,  I  have  a  mind 
To  be  as  yielding  as  my  Patie  's  kind. 

JENSY. 

Heh  !  lass,  how  can  ye  looe  that  rattle-skull  ? 


uit  a  poor  fechting  I 


I  '11  rin  the  risk  ;  nor  have  I  ony  fear, 
But  rather  think  ilk  langsome  day  a  year. 
Till  I  with  pleasure  mount  my  bridal-bed. 
Where  on  my  Patio's  breast  I  '11  lean  my  head. 
There  we  may  kiss  as  lang  as  kissing 's  good, 
Acd  what  we  do  there 's  nane  dare  call  it  rude. 


He 's  get  his  will ;  why  no  ?  't  is  good  my  part 
To  give  him  that,  and  he  '11  give  me  his  heart. 

.       JENNY. 

He  may  indeed,  for  ten  or  fifteen  days, 
Mak  muckle  o'  ye,  with  an  unco  fraise. 
And  daut  you  ba'th  afore  fowk  and  your  lane  ; 
But  soon  as  your  newfangleness  is  gane. 
He  '11  look  upon  you  as  his  tether-stake, 
And  think  he 's  tint  his  freedom  for  your  sake  ; 
Instead  then  of  lang  days  of  sweet  delyte, 
Ae  day  be  dumb,  and  a'  the  ncist  he'll  flyte  ; 
And  may  be,  in  his  barlickhoods,  ne'er  stick 
To  lend  his  loving  wife  a  loundering  lick. 


Tone.—  '  O  dear  mother,  what  shall  I  A 
0  dear  Peggy,  love's  beguiling, 
We  ought  not  to  trust  his  smiling  ; 
Better  far  to  do  as  I  do. 
Lest  a  harder  luck  betide  you. 
Lasses,  when  their  fancy 's  carried, 
Think  of  naught  but  to  be  married  ; 
Running  to  a  life  destroys 
Heartaome,  free,  and  youthfu'  joys. 


Sic  coarse-spun  thoughts  as  thae  want  pith  to  move 
My  settled  mind  ;  I  'm  o'er  far  gane  in  love. 
Patie  to  me  is  dearer  than  my  breath  ; 
But  want  of  him  I  dread  nae  other  skaith. 
There 's  nane  of  a'  the  herds  that  tread  the  green 
Has  sic  a  smile,  or  sic  twa  glancing  een. 
And  then  he  speaks  with  sic  a  taking  art, 
His  words  they  thirle  like  music  through  my  heart. 
How  blythly  can  he  sport,  and  gently  rave, 
And  jest  at  feckless  fears  that  fright  the  lave  ! 
Ilk  day  that  he 's  alane  upon  the  hill. 
He  reads  fell  books  that  teach  him  meikle  skill. 
He  is  —  but  what  need  I  say  that  or  this  ? 
I  'd  spend  a  month  to  tell  you  what  he  is  ! 
In  a'  he  says  or  does  there 's  sic  a  gate. 
The  rest  seem  coofs  compared  with  my  dear  Pate  ; 
His  better  sense  will  lang  his  love  secure  ; 
Ill-nature  heffs  in  sauls  that 's  weak  and  poor. 


SANG   V. 


TcNE, 


How  shall  I  be  sad  when  a  husband  I  hae. 
That  has  better  sense  than  ony  of  thae 
Sour,  weak,  silly  fellows,  that  study,  like  fools. 
To  sink  their  ain  joy,  and  make  their  wives  snools! 
The  man  who  is  prudent  ne'er  lightlies  his  wife, 
Or  with  dull  reproaches  encourages  strife  ; 
He  praises  her  virtue,  and  ne'er  will  abuse 
Her  for  a  small  failing,  but  find  an  excuse. 


Hey,  '  bonny  lass  of  Branksome  ! '  or 't  be  lang. 
Your  witty  Pate  will  put  you  in  a  sang  ! 


107 


0  't  13  a  pleasant  thing  to  bo  a  brido, 
Syne  whinging  getts  about  your  ingle-sido, 
Yelping  for  this  or  that  with  fiuhoous  din  ! 

To  mak  thorn  brats  then  yo  maun  toil  and  spin. 
Ae  wean  fa's  sick,  ane  scods  itself  wi'  bruc,  — 
Ane  breaks  his  shin,  —  anither  tines  his  suoe  : 
The  '  Dcel  gaes  o'er  John  Wabster : '  hame  grows  hell, 
When  Pate  misca's  ye  waur  than  tongue  can  tell. 

Yes,  'tis  a  hcartsome  thing  to  be  a  wife, 
When  round  the  ingle-edge  young  sprouts  arc  rife. 
Gif  I'm  sae  happy,  I  shall  have  delight 
To  hear  their  little  plaints,  and  keep  them  right. 
Wow,  Jenny  !  can  there  greater  pleasure  bo. 
Than  see  sic  wee  tots  toolying  at  your  knee  ; 
When  a'  they  ettle  at,  —  their  greatest  wish,  — 
Is  to  be  made  of,  and  obtain  a  kiss  ? 
Can  there  bo  toil  in  tenting  day  and  night 
The  like  of  them,  when  lovo  makes  care  delight? 

But  poortith,  Peggy,  is  the  warst  of  a' ! 
Gif  o'er  your  heads  ill  chance  should  begg'ry  draw. 
But  little  love  or  canty  cheer  can  come 
Frae  duddy  doublets,  and  a  pantry  toom. 
Y'our  nowt  may  die  ;  the  spate  may  bear  away 
Frae  aff  the  howns  your  dainty  rucks  of  hay  ; 
The  thiok-blawn  wreaths  of  snaw,  or  blashy  thows. 
May  smoor  your  wathers,  and  may  rot  your  ewes  ; 
A  dyvour  buys  your  butter,  woo,  and  cheese, 
But  or  the  day  of  payment  breaks  and  flees  ; 
With  glooman  brow  the  laird  seeks  in  his  rent,  — 
'T  is  no  to  gie,  your  merchant 's  to  the  bent ; 
His  honour  maunna  want,  —  he  poinds  your  gear  ; 
Syne  driven  frae  house  and  hald,  where  will  ye 
Dear  Meg,  be  wise,  and  lead  a  single  life;    [steer?  — 
Troth,  't  is  nae  mows  to  be  a  married  wife  ! 

May  sic  ill  luok  befa'  that  silly  sho 
Wha  has  sic  fears,  for  that  was  never  me  ! 
Let  fowk  bode  weel,  and  strive  to  do  their  best  ; 
Nae  mair  's  required,  —  let  Heaven  make  out  the  rest. 

1  'vc  heard  my  honest  uncle  aften  say 

That  lads  should  a'  for  wives  that 's  virtuous  pray  ; 
For  the  maist  thrifty  man  could  never  get 
A  well-stored  room  unless  his  wife  wad  let : 
Wherefore  nocht  shall  be  wanting  on  my  part 
To  gather  wealth  to  raise  my  shepherd's  heart. 
Whate'er  ho  wins,  I  '11  guide  with  canny  care. 
And  win  the  vogue  at  market,  tron,  or  fair, 
For  halesome,  clean,  cheap,  and  suflioient  ware. 
A  flock  of  lambs,  cheese,  butter,  and  some  woo. 
Shall  first  be  said  to  pay  the  laird  his  duo  ; 
Syne  a'  behin's  our  ain.     Thus  without  fear. 
With  love  and  rowth  we  thro'  the  warld  will  steer  ; 
And  when  my  Pate  in  bairns  and  gear  grows  rife. 
He  '11  bless  tho  day  he  gat  me  for  his  wife. 

But  what  if  some  young  giglet  on  the  green, 
With  dimpled  cheeks,  and  twa  bewitching  een, 


Should  gar  your  Patio  think  his  half-worn  Meg, 
And  her  kend  kisses,  hardly  worth  a  fog  ? 


Nao  mair  of  that !  —  Dear  Jenny,  to  bo  free, 
There 's  some  men  constanter  in  lovo  than  wo. 
Nor  is  tho  ferly  groat,  when  nature  kind 
Has  blest  them  with  solidity  of  mind  ; 
They  '11  reason  calmly,  nnd  with  kindness  .«milc, 
When  ourshi'it  |  ;i    Imh-  wmi]  uur  peace  beguile. 
Sae,  whensor'ii  I  ;i'  .     h    Ki  tii>  n  nmiks  at  hunic, 
'T  is  ten  to  ail.   i  .  minaist  to  blame. 


Then  I'll  e 
To  keep  hii 


hfLTfu',  and  secure  his  heart. 
At  e'en,  when  he  comes  woary  frae  the  hill, 
I  '11  have  a'  things  made  ready  to  his  will. 
In  winter,  when  he  toils  thro'  wind  and  rain, 
A  bleezing  inglo,  and  a  clean  heartli-stane  ; 
And  soon  as  he  flings  by  his  plaid  and  staffs 
The  seething  pot's  be  ready  to  take  aif ; 
Clean  hag-abag  I'll  spread  upon  his  board. 
And  serve  him  with  the  best  we  can  afibrd. 
Good-humour  and  white  bigonets  shall  be 
Guards  to  my  face,  to  keep  his  love  for  mo. 

JESSY. 

A  dish  of  married  lovo  right  soon  grows  ea 
And  doscns  down  to  nane  as  fowk  grow  auUi. 


But  we'll  grow  auld  together,  and  ne'er  find 
The  loss  of  youth,  when  love  grows  on  the  mind. 
Bairns,  and  their  bairns,  make  sure  a  firmer  tyo. 
Than  aught  in  Fovo  the  like  of  us  can  spy. 
See  yon  twa  elms,  that  grow  up  side  by  side,  — 
Suppose  thom  some  years  syne  bridegroom  and  bride ; 
fearer  and  nearer  ilka  year  they  'vo  prcst, 
Till  wide  their  spreading  branches  are  increased. 
And  in  their  mixture  now  are  fully  blest ; 
This  shields  the  other  frae  the  castlin  blast ; 
That  in  return  defends  it  frao  tho  west. 
Sic  as  stand  single,  —  a  state  sae  liked  by  you,  — 
Beneath  ilk  storm  frae  every  airt  maun  bo  r. 


I  'vo  done  !     I  yield,  dear  lassie  ;  I  maun  yi< 
Your  better  sense  has  fairly  won  the  lield, 
AVith  the  assistance  of  a  little  fae 
Lies  darned  within  my  breast  this  mony  a  day. 

SANO  vr. 
TrSE.—'  Nancy  's  lo  tlie  green-wood  gone.' 
I  yield,  dear  lassie,  you  have  won. 

And  there  is  nae  denying, 
That  sure  as  light  flows  frae  the  sun, 
Frae  love  proceeds  complying. 

For  a'  that  wo  can  do  or  say 

'Gainst  love,  nao  thinker  heeds  us  ; 

They  ken  our  bosoms  lodge  tho  fae. 
That  by  the  heartstrings  leads  us. 


108 


RURAL    POETRY. RAMSAY. 


Alake,  poor  pris'ner  !     Jenny,  that's  no  fair, 
That  ye '11  no  let  the  wie  thing  take  the  air. 
Haste,  let  him  out !  we  '11  tent  as  well 's  we  can, 
Gif  ye  be  Bauldy's,  or  poor  Roger's  man. 

Anither  time 's  as  good  ;  for  see  the  sun 
Is  right  far  up,  and  we  're  no  yet  begun 
To  freath  the  graith  :  if  cankered  Madge,  our  aunt, 
Cume  up  the  burn,  she  '11  gie  's  a  wicked  rant. 
But  when  we  've  done,  I  '11  tell  you  a'  my  mind  ; 
For  this  seems  true  —  nae  lass  can  be  unkind. 


A  snag  thack  house  ;  before  the  door  a  gi 
Hens  on  the  raidding,  ducks  in  dubs  are  s 
On  this  side  stands  a  barn,  on  thai  a  byre 
A  peet  stack  joins,  and  forms  a  rural  st|u:i 
The  house  is  Olaud's :  there  you  may  see 
And  to  his  divot  seat  invite  his  frien'. 


Good-morrow,  nibour  Symon  !  —  Come,  sit  down. 
And  gie 's  your  cracks. — What 's  a'  the  news  in  town  ? 
They  tell  me  ye  was  in  the  ither  day. 
And  sauld  your  Crummock,  and  her  bassand  quey. 
I  '11  warrant  ye  've  coft  a  pound  of  cut  and  dry  ; 
Lug  out  your  box,  and  gie 's  a  pipe  to  try. 

With  a'  my  heart !  —  And  tent  me  now,  auld  boy, 
I  've  gathered  news  will  kittle  your  mind  with  joy. 
I  con'dna  rest  till  I  came  o'er  the  burn, 
To  tell  ye  things  have  taken  sic  a  turn 
Will  gar  our  vile  oppressors  stend  like  flaes. 
And  skulk  in  hidlings  on  the  hether  braes. 


Fy,  blaw  ! — Ah  !  Symie,  rattling  chiels  ne'er  stand 
To  deck,  and  spread  the  grossest  lies  aff-hand  ; 
Whilk  soon  flies  round,  like  wild-fire,  far  and  near. 
But  loose  your  poke,  be  't  true  or  fause  let 's  hear. 

Seeing 's  believing.  Gland  ;  and  I  have  seen 
Hab,  that  abroad  has  with  our  master  been  ; 
Our  brave  good  master,  wha  right  wisely  fled, 
And  left  a  fair  estate  to  save  bis  head  ; 
Because,  ye  ken  fo^  well,  he  bravely  chose 
To  shine  or  set  in  glory  with  Montrose  ;• 
Now  Cromwell 's  gane  to  Nick,  and  ano  ca'd  Monk 
Has  played  the  Rumple  a  right  slec  begunk, 
Restored  King  Charles,  and  ilka  thing 's  in  tune  ; 
And  Habby  says,  we  '11  see  Sir  William  soon. 


CLAUD. 

That  makes  me  blyth  indeed  !     But  dinn 
Tell  o'er  your  news  again,  and  swear  till 't  i 


,  flaw 


And  saw  ye  Hab  ?  and  what  did  Halbert  say  ? 
They  have  been  e'en  a  dreary  time  away. 
Now  God  be  thanked  that  our  laird's  come  hame  ! 
And  his  estate,  say,  can  he  eithly  claim  ? 

They  that  hag-raid  us  till  our  guts  did  grane. 
Like  greedy  bears,  dare  nae  mair  do 't  again. 
And  good  Sir  William  sail  enjoy  his  ain. 


1  '  To  stand  his  liege's  friend 
Ed.  of  1808. 


I  great  Montrose.'  — 


SANG  VII. 
Tone.  — 'CauW  Kail  in  Aberdeen.' 
Cauld  be  the  Rebels  cast. 

Oppressors  base  and  bloody, 
I  hope  we  '11  see  them  at  the  last 

Strung  a'  up  in  a  woody. 
Blest  be  he  of  worth  and  sense. 

And  ever  high  in  station. 
That  bravely  stands  in  the  defence 

Of  conscience,  king,  and  nation. 


And  may  he  lang,  for  never  did  he  stent 
Us  in  our  thriving  with  a  racket  rent ; 
Nor  grumbled  if  ano  grew  rich,  or  shor'd  to  raise 
Our  mailens  when  we  pat  on  Sunday's  claiths. 

Nor  wad  he  lang,  with  senseless  saucy  air, 
Allow  our  lyart  noddles  to  be  bare. 
■  Put  on  your  bonnet,  Symon  ;  tak  a  seat :  — 
How 's  all  at  hame  ?  —  how  's  Elspa  ?  —  how  dot 

Kate  ?  — 
How  sells  black  cattle  ?  —  what  gi'es  woo  this  year ' 
And  sic  like  kindly  questions  wad  he  speer. 

SANG  VIII. 
Tone.  — '  Mucking  of  Georiy's  biire.' 
The  laird  who  in  riches  and  honor 

IVad  thrive,  should  be  kindly  and  free, 
Nor  rack  the  poor  tenants  who  labor 

To  rise  aboon  poverty  ; 
Else,  like  the  pack-horse  that 's  unfothered 

And  burdened,  will  tumble  down  faint : 
Thus  virtue  by  hardships  is  smothered. 

And  raekers  aft  tine  their  rent. 


Then  wad  he  gar  his  butler  bring  bcdeen 
The  nappy  bottle  ben,  and  glasses  clean, 
Whilk  in  our  breast  raised  sic  a  blythsome  flame. 
As  gart  me  mony  a  time  gae  dancing  hame. 
My  heart 's  e'en  raised  !  —  Dear  nibour,  will  ye  st.iy. 
And  tak  your  dinner  here  with  me  the  day  ? 
We  '11  send  for  Elspath  too  ;  and  upo'  sight 
I  '11  whistle  Pate  and  Roger  frae  the  height. 
I  '11  yoke  my  sled,  and  send  to  the  neist  town. 
And  bring  a  draught  of  ale  baith  stout  and  brown  ; 
And  gar  our  cottars  a',  man,  wife,  and  wean, 
Drink  'till  they  tine  the  gate  to  stand  their  lane. 


I  wadna  bauk  my  friend  bis  biyth  design, 
Gif  tbat  it  hadna  first  of  a'  been  iiiiuo  : 
For  here  yestreen  I  brewed  a  bow  of  muut ; 
Yestreen  I  slew  twa  wethers  prime  and  fat  ; 
A  furlet  of  good  cakes  my  EUi)a  beuk, 
And  a  large  ham  hings  reesting  in  the  nook  ; 
I  saw  mysell,  or  I  came  o'er  the  loan, 
Our  meikle  pot,  that  scads  the  whey,  put  on, 
A  mutton-bouk  to  boil,  and  ane  we  '11  roast ; 
And  on  the  haggles  Elspa  spares  nae  cost  ; 
Small  are  they  shorn,  and  she  can  mix  fou  nice 
The  gusty  ingans  with  a  curn  of  spice  ; 
Fat  are  the  puddings  ;  heads  and  feet  well  sung  ; 
And  wo  've  invited  nibours  auld  and  young, 
To  pass  this  afternoon  with  glee  and  game, 
And  drink  our  master's  health  and  welcome  hamo  : 
Ye  mauna  then  refuse  to  join  the  rest, 
Since  ye  're  my  nearest  friend  that  I  like  best* 
Bring  wi'  ye  all  your  family  ;  and  then, 
Whene'er  you  please,  I  '11  rant  wi'  you  again. 


Spoke  like  ye'rscll,  auld  birky  !     Never  fear 
But  at  your  banquet  I  shall  first  appear. 
Faith,  we  shall  bend  the  bicker,  and  look  bauld, 
Till  we  forget  that  we  are  failed  or  auld  !  — 
Auld  !  said  I,  —  troth,  I  'm  younger  be  a  score, 
With  your  good  news,  than  what  I  was  before  ; 
I'll  dance  or  e'en!  —  Ilcy,  JIadge  !    come  forth,, 
d'  ye  hear  ? 

ENTER    MADOE. 


The  man 's  gane  gyto  !  —  Dear  Symon,  welcome 

What  wad  ye,  Glaud,  with  a'  this  haste  and  din  ? 
Ye  never  let  a  body  sit  to  spin. 


Spin  !    Snuff!  —  Gae  break  your  wheel,  and  burn 
And  set  the  meiklcst  peatstack  in  a  low ;    [your  tow, 
Syno  dance  about  the  banc-fire  till  ye  die  ; 
Since  now  again  we  '11  soon  Sir  William  see. 


Blyth  news  indeed !  —  And  wha  was 't  tald  you  o't  ? 

GLACO. 

What 's  that  to  you  ?  —  Gae  got  my  Sunday's  coat  j 
Wale  out  the  whitest  of  my  bobbit  bands. 
My  white-skin  hose,  and  mittens  for  my  hands  ; 
Then  frae  their  washing  cry  the  bairns  in  haste. 
And  mak  ye'rsclls  as  trig,  head,  feet,  and  waist, 
As  ye  were  a'  to  get  young  lads  or  ecn  ; 
For  wo  're  gawn  o'er  to  dine  with  Sym  bedeen. 


Do,  honest  Madge  :  and,  Glaud,  I  '11  o'er  the  gate. 
And  see  that  a'  bo  dono  as  I  wad  hae  't. 

[Exeunt.] 


The  open  field. 


splifhing  1 


c  in  a  glen  ; 

t)ie  sunny  end. 
At  a  small  distance,  by  a  blasted  tree, 
With  raided  arms  and  half-raised  look,  ye  see 

BACLDT  ms  LANS. 

What 's  this  ?  —  I  canna  bear 't !  —  't  is  waur  than 
To  be  iMie  burnt  with  love,  yet  darna  tell  !        [hell, 

0  Peggy  !  sweeter  than  the  dawning  day  ; 
Sweeter  than  gowany  glens  or  new-mawn  hay  ; 
BIytlicr  than  lambs  that  frisk  out  o'er  the  knows  ; 
Straighter  than  aught  that  in  the  forest  grows  ; 
Her  een  the  clearest  blob  of  dew  outshines  ; 

The  lily  in  her  breast  its  beauty  tines  ; 

Uer  legs,  her  arms,  her  cheeks,  her  mouth,  her  een, 

AVill  be  my  dead,  that  will  be  shortly  seen  ! 

For  Pate  loocs  her,  —  waes  me !  —  and  she  looes  Pate  j 

And  I  with  Neps,  by  some  unlucky  fat©. 

Made  a  daft  vow.     0,  but  ane  be  a  beast, 

That  makes  rash  aiths  till  he 's  afore  the  priest ! 

1  darna  speak  my  mind,  else  a'  the  three, 
But  doubt,  wad  prove  ilk  ane  my  enemy. 

'T  is  sair  to  thole  ;  —  I  '11  try  some  witchcraft  art. 

To  break  with  ane,  and  win  the  other's  heart. 

Here  Mausy  lives,  a  witch  that  for  sma'  price 

Can  cast  her  cantraips,  and  gi'e  me  advice. 

She  can  o'ercast  the  night,  and  cloud  the  moon. 

And  mak  the  deils  obedient  to  her  crune  ; 

At  midnight  hours,  o'er  the  kirk-yard  she  raves. 

And  howks  unchristcncd  weans  out  of  their  graves  ; 

Boils  up  their  livers  in  a  warlock's  pow  ; 

Rins  withershins  about  the  hemlock  low  ; 

And  seven  times  does  her  prayers  backwards  pray, 

Till  Plotcock  comes  with  lumps  of  Lapland  clay, 

Mi.xt  with  the  venom  of  black  taids  and  snakes  : 

Of  this  unsonsy  pictures  aft  she  makes 

Of  ony  ane  she  hates,  —  and  gars  expire 

With  slow  and  racking  pains  afore  a  fire. 

Stuck  fu'  of  pins  ;  the  devilish  pictures  melt ; 

The  pain  by  fowk  they  represent  is  felt. 

And  yonder 's  Mnuse  :  ay,  ay,  she  kens  fu'  weel. 

When  ane  like  me  comes  rinning  to  the  deil ! 

She  and  her  cat  sit  becking  in  her  yard  : 

To  speak  my  errand,  faith,  amaist  I  'm  feared  ! 

But  I  maun  do 't,  tho'  I  should  never  thrive  : 

They  gallop  fast  tbat  deils  and  lasses  drive. 

[£x,<.] 
SCENE     III. 


A  in-een  kail-yard  :  a  little  fount. 
Where  water  poplin  springs  ; 

There  sits  a  wife  with  wrinkled  front, 
And  yet  she  spins  and  sings. 


SANO   IX. 
'  Carle,  an  tke  king  c 


Peggy,  now  the  king 's  come  ! 
Peggy,  now  the  king 's  come  ! 

Thou  may  dance,  and  I  shall  sing, 
Poggy,  since  tho  king's  come  ! 


no 


EURAL    POETRY.  RAMSAY. 


Nae  mair  the  hawkies  shalt  thou  milk, 
But  change  thy  plaiden-coat  for  silk, 
And  be  a  lady  of  that  ilk,_ 

Now,  Peggy,  since  the  king 's  come. 


ENTER   BAUI 


How  does  auld  honest  lucky  of  the  glen  ? 
Ye  look  baith  hale  and  fair  at  threescore-ten. 

MAUSE. 

E'en  twining  out  a  thread  with  little  din, 
And  beeking  my  cauld  limbs  afore  the  sun. 
What  brings  my  bairn  this  gate  sae  ! 
Is  there  nae  muck  to  lead  1 


But  when  I  neist  make  groats,  I  '11  strive  to  please 
You  with  a  firlot  of  them  mixt  with  pease. 

I  thank  ye,  lad  !  — Now  tell  me  your  demand  ; 
And,  if  I  can,  I  '11  lend  my  helping  hand. 

BiCLDT. 

Then,  I  like  Peggy  ;   Neps  is  fond  of  me  ; 
Peggy  likes  Pate  ;  and  Patie's  bauld  and  slee. 
And  looes  sweet  Meg  ;  but  Neps  I  downa  see. 
Could  ye  turn  Patie's  love  to  Neps,  and  then 
Peggy's  to  me,  I  'd  be  the  happiest  man. 


I  thresh  nae  c 


Enough  of  baith  :  but  something  that  requirei 
Your  helping  hand  employs  now  all  my  cares. 

My  helping  hand  !  alake,  what  can  I  do. 
That  underneith  baith  eild  and  poortith  bow  ? 

Ay,  but  you  're  wise,  and  wiser  far  than  we  ; 
Or  maist  part  of  the  parish  tells  a  lie. 

MACSE. 

Of  what  kind  wisdom  think  ye  I  'm  possest, 
That  lifts  my  character  aboon  the  rest  ? 

The  word  that  gangs,  how  ye  're  sae  wise  and  fell. 
Ye  '11  may  be  tak  it  ill  gif  I  should  tell. 

What  folks  say  of  me,  Bauldy,  let  me  hear  ; 
Keep  naething  up,  ye  naething  have  to  fear. 

Well,  since  ye  bid  me,  I  shall  tell  ye  a' 
That  ilk  ane  talks  about  you,  but  a  flaw. 
When  last  the  wind  made  Gland  a  roofless  barn  ; 
When  last  the  burn  bore  down  my  mither's  yarn  ; 
When  Brawny,  elf-shot,  never  mair  came  hame  ; 
When  Tibby  kirn'd,  and  there  nae  butter  came  ; 
When  Bessy  Freetock's  chuflTy-cheeked  wean 
To  a  fairy  turned,  and  cou'dna  stand  its  lane  ; 
When  Wattie  wandered  ae  night  thro'  the  shaw. 
And  tint  himsell  amaist  amang  the  snaw  ; 
When  Mungo's  mare  stood  still  and  swat  wi'  fright, 
When  he  brought  east  the  howdy  under  night ; 
When  Bawsy  shot  to  dead  upon  the  green  ; 
And  Sara  tint  a  snood  was  nae  mair  seen  ;  — 
You,  lucky,  gat  the  wyle  of  a'  fell  out ; 
And  ilka  ane  here  dreacis  ye  round  about,  — 
And  say  they  may  that  mint  to  do  ye  skaith  ! ' 
For  me  to  wrang  ye  I  '11  be  very  laith  ; 


'The  pAwers   attnni 


to  witches,  by  the  hinds  and 


I'll  try  my  airt  to  gar  the  bowls  row  right ; 
Sae  gang  your  ways  and  come  again  at  night ; 
'Gainst  that  time  I'll  some  simple  things  prepare. 
Worth  all  your  pease  and  groats,  tak  ye  nae  care. 

BAULDY. 

Well,  Manse,  I'll  come,  gif  I  the  road  can  find  ; 
But  if  ye  raise  the  deil,  he  '11  raise  the  wind  ; 
Syne  rain  and  thunder,  may  be,  when  't  is  late. 
Will  make  the  night  sae  mirk,  I'll  tine  the  gate. 
We  're  a'  to  rant  in  Symie's  at  a  feast,  — 
0,  will  ye  come,  like  badrans,  for  a  jest? 
And  there  you  can  our  different  haviors  spy  ; 
There  's  nane  shall  ken  o't  there  but  you  and  I. 

'T  is  like  I  may  :  but  let  na  on  what's  past 
ITween  you  and  me,  else  fear  a  kittle  cast. 

If  I  aught  of  your  secrets  e'er  advance. 
May  ye  ride  on  me  ilka  night  to  France  ! 

[Exit  Bauldy. -\ 

This  fool  imagines,  7^  as  do  many  sic,  — 
That  I  'm  a  witch  in  compact  with  Auld  Nick, 
Because  by  education  I  was  taught 
To  speak  and  act  aboon  their  common  thought : 
Their  gross  mistake  shall  quickly  now  appear  ; 
Soon  shall  they  ken  what  brought,  what  keeps  me 

Now  since  the  royal  Charles  and  right 's  restored, 

A  shepherdess  is  daughter  to  a  lord. 

The  bonny  foundling  that's  brought  up  by  Glaud, 

Wha  has  an  uncle's  care  on  her  bestowed,  — 

Her  infant-life  I  saved,  when  a  false  friend 

Bowed  to  the  usurper,  and  her  death  designed. 

To  establish  him  and  his  in  all  these  plains 

That  by  right  heritage  to  her  pertains. 

She 's  now  in  her  sweet  bloom,  has  blood  and  charms 

Of  too  much  value  for  a  shepherd's  arms. 

None  know't  but  me  !— And  if  the  morn  were  come, 

I  '11  tell  them  tales  will  gar  them  a'  sing  dumb.i 


,  Slause's  soliloquy  is  given  thus  : 
!  when  poverty  and  eiid, 
1,  and  a  lanely  beild, 
wiles,  should,  in  a  twitch, 
lame,  A  wrinkled  witch  ! 


1  In  the  edition  ot  1808, 
'  Hard  luck,  alake 


PATIE    AND    PEOOY. 

0  Pfttie  !  let  me  gang  j  I  mauna  stay  ; 
Wo  're  baith  crjed  hame,  and  Jenny  she  'a  away. 


I  'm  laith  to  part  sae  soon  !     Now  we  're  alane  ; 
And  Roger  ho  "s  away  with  Jenny  g^no  ; 
They  'ro  as  content,  for  aught  I  hear  or  sec, 
To  be  alane  themselves,  I  judge,  as  we. 
Here,  where  primroses  thickest  paint  the  green, 
Hard  by  this  little  burnie  let  us  lean. 
Uark  how  the  lav'rocks  chant  aboon  our  heads  ; 
How  saft  the  westlin  winds  sough  through  tho  reeds  ! 

PEOOV. 

The  scented  meadows,  birds,  and  healthy  breeze, 
For  aught  I  ken,  may  mair  than  Peggy  please. 

PiTIB. 

Ye  wrang  me  sair,  to  doubt  my  being  kind  ! 
In  speaking  sae,  ye  ca'  me  dull  and  blind, 
Gif  I  cou'd  fancy  aught 's  sae  sweet  or  fair 
As  my  sweet  Meg,  or  worthy  of  my  care. 
Thy  breath  is  sweeter  than  tho  sweetest  brier  ; 
Thy  cheek  and  breast  the  finest  flow'rs  appear  ; 
Thy  words  excel  the  maist  delightfu'  notes 
That  warble  through  the  morlo  or  mavis'  throats. 
With  thee  I  tent  nao  flowers  that  busk  the  field. 
Or  ripest  berries  that  our  mountains  yield  ; 
The  sweetest  fruits  that  hing  upon  tho  tree 
Are  far  inferior  to  a  kiss  of  thee. 

But  Patrick  for  some  wicked  end  may  fleech  ; 
And  lambs  should  tremble  when  the  foxes  preach. 
I  darna  stay  ;  ye  joker,  let  me  gang  ; 
Or  swear  ye'U  never  'tempt  to  do  me  wrang.' 

PATIE. 

Sooner  a  mother  shall  her  fondness  drap. 
And  wrang  the  bairn  sits  smiling  in  her  lap  ; 
The  sun  shall  change,  the  moon  to  change  shall  ccaao ; 
The  gaits  to  climb,  the  sheep  to  yield  the  fleece, 
Ero  aught  by  mo  bo  either  said  or  'doon. 
Shall  do  thee  wrang  !  —  1  swear  by  all  aboon  ! 


That  I  'm  a  wretch  in  compact  with  Auld  Nick  ; 
Because  by  wlucation  I  was  taught 
To  speal!  and  act  nbrmn  their  common  thought ; 
Their  gross  mistake  shall  quickly  now  appear  ; 
Soon  shall  they  ken  what  brought,  what  keeps  mi 
Nane  kens  but  me  ! — And  if  the  morn  were  corns 
1  *I1  toll  thcni  tales  will  gar  them  a*  eing  dumb.' 


Then  keep  youraith. — Hut  mony  lads  will  swear, 
And  bo  mansworn  to  twa  in  half  a-ycar. 
Now  I  believe  yo  like  mo  wonder  wool  ; 
But  if  anithor  lass  your  heart  should  steal, 
Your  Meg,  forsaken,  bootless  might  relate 
How  she  was  dautcd  anes  by  faithless  Pate. 

PATIE. 

I  'm  sure  I  canna  change  ;  ye  needna  fear. 
Though  we  're  but  young,  I  'vo  looed  ye  mony  a  year. 
I  mind  it  wool,  when  thou  eould'st  hardly  gang, 
Or  lisp  out  words,  I  ehooscd  thee  froe  tho  thrang 
Of  a'  the  bairns,  and  led  thee  by  tho  hand, 
Aft  to  the  tansy  know,  or  rashy  strand  ; 
Thou  smiling  by  my  side  :  —  I  took  delight 
To  pou  tho  rashes  green,  with  roots  sae  white, 
Of  which,  as  well  as  my  young  fancy  cou'd, 
For  thee  I  plct  the  flow'ry  belt  and  snood. 

When  first  thou  gade  with  shepherds  to  the  hill. 
And  I  to  milk  the  ewes  first  tryed  my  skill, 
To  bear  a  leglin  was  nao  toil  to  me, 
When  at  tho  bught  at  e'en  I  met  with  thee. 

PATIE. 

When  corns  grew  yellow,  and  the  heathorbells 
Bloomed  bonny  on  tho  moor  and  rising  fells, 
Nae  birns,  or  briers,  or  whins  e'er  troubled  mo, 
Gif  I  could  find  blae-berries  ripe  for  thee. 

PEOGT. 

When  thou  didst  wrestle,  run,  or  putt  tho  stane. 
And  wan  tho  day,  my  heart  was  flightering  fain  ; 
At  all  these  sports  thou  still  gave  joy  to  me. 
For  nano  can  wrestle,  run,  or  putt  with  theo. 

Jenny  sings  saft  the  '  Broom  of  Cowdenknows ;' 
And  Kosie  lilts  the  '  Milking  of  the  Ewes  j' 
There's  nane  like  Nancy  'Jenny  Nettles'  sings  ; 
At  turns  in  '  Maggy  Lawdcr'  Marion  dings  ; 
But  when  my  Peggy  sings,  with  sweeter  skill, 
'  The  Boatman,'  or  '  The  Lass  of  Patio's  Mill,'  — 
It  is  a  thousand  times  mair  sweet  to  me  ; 
Tho'  they  sing  well,  they  canna  sing  like  thoe  ! 

How  eith  can  lasses  trow  what  wo  desire  ! 
And,  rces'd  by  them  we  love,  blaws  up  the  fire  ; 
But  wha  loves  host  let  time  and  carriage  try  ; 
Bo  constant,  and  my  lovo  shall  time  defy  ; 
Be  still  as  now,  and  a'  my  care  shall  be, 
How  to  contrivo  what  pleasant  is  for  tliee. 

SANG  -X. 
TcNB.  —  'fFinter  was  cautd,  and  my  ctaithing  was  thin.' 

PEOOY. 

When  first  my  dear  laddie  gado  to  tho  green  hill, 
And  I  at  ewe-milking  first  sey'd  my  young  skill. 
To  bear  the  milk-bowio  no  pain  was  to  mo, 
I  When  I  at  the  bughting  forgathered  with  thee. 


112 


RURAL    POETRT. RAMSAY. 


When  oorn-riggs  waved  yellow,  and  blue  hether- 

bells 
Bloomed  bonny  on  moorland  and  sweet  rising  fells, 
Nae  birns,  brier,  or  breckens,  gave  trouble  to  me, 
If  I  found  the  berries  right  ripened  for  thee. 

When  thou  ran,  or  wrestled  or  putted  the  stane, 
And  came  off  the  victor,  my  heart  was  ay  fain  ; 
Thy  ilka  sport  manly  gave  pleasure  to  me  ; 
For  nane  can  putt,  wrestle,  or  run  swift  as  thee. 


Our  Jenny  sings  saftly  the  '  Cowden  broom  knows;' 
And  Rosie  lilts  swiftly  the  '  Milking  the  Ewes  ;' 
There's  few  'Jenny  Nettles'  like  Nancy  can  sing  ; 
At '  Throw  the  wood,  laddie,'  Bess  gars  our  lugs  ring ; 

But  when  my  dear  Peggy  sings,  with  better  skill, 
'  The  Boatman,'  '  Tweed-side,'  or  '  The  Lass  of  the 
'T  is  mony  times  sweeter  and  pleasing  to  me ;   [Mill,' 
For  though  they  sing  nicely,  they  canna  like  thee  ! 

How  easy  can  lasses  trow  what  they  desire  ! 
And  praises  sae  kindly  increases  love's  fire  ; 
Give  me  still  this  pleasure,  my  study  shall  be 
To  make  myself  better  and  sweeter  for  thee. 

Wert  thou  a  giglit  gawky  like  the  lave. 
That  little  better  than  our  nowt  behave  ; 
At  naught  they  '11  ferly,  senseless  tales  believe. 
Be  blyth  for  silly  hechts,  for  trifles  grieve  ; 
Sic  ne'er  cou'd  win  my  heart,  that  kenna  how 
Either  to  keep  a  prize,  or  yet  prove  true. 
But  thou  in  better  sense  without  a  flaw. 
As  in  thy  beauty,  far  excels  them  a'. 
Continue  kind,  and  a'  my  care  shall  be 
How  to  contrive  what  pleasing  is  for  thee. 

Agreed  !  —  But  hearken,  yon 's  auld  aunty's  cry, 
I  ken  they  '11  wonder  what  can  make  us  stay. 

And  let  them  ferly  !  —  Now  a  kindly  kiss. 
Or  fivescore  good  anes  wad  not  be  amiss  ; 
And  syne  we'll  sing  the  sang  with  tunefu'  glee, 
That  I  made  up  last  owk  on  you  and  mo. 


Sing  first  ;  syne  claim  your  hyro. 
Well,  I  agree  ! 


By  the  delicious  warmness  of  thy  mouth, 
And  rowing  eye  that  smiling  tolls  the  truth, 
I  guess,  my  lassie,  that,  as  well  as  I, 
Ye  're  made  for  love,  and  why  should  ye  deny  ? 


PEGGT. 

But  ken  ye,  lad,  gif  we  confess  o'er  soon. 
Ye  think  us  ch^ap,  and  syne  the  wooing 's  done  : 
The  maiden  that  o'er  quickly  tines  her  power. 
Like  unripe  fruit  will  taste  but  hard  and  sour. 

But  gin  they  hing  o'er  lang  upon  the  tree. 
Their  sweetness  they  may  tine,  and  sae  may  ye  ; 
Red-cheeked  ye  completely  ripe  appear. 
And  I  have  thol'd  and  woo'd  a  lang  half-year. 

PEOGT  ifalUng  into  Patie's  arms). 
Then  dinna  pu'  me,  gently  thus  I  fa' 
Into  my  Patie's  arms  for  good  and  a'. 
But  stint  your  wishes  to  this  kind  embrace. 
And  mint  nae  farther  till  we  've  got  the  grace. 
PAxre  {witk  /lis  left  hand  about  her  waist). 

0  charming  armfu' !  —  Hence  ye  cares  away, 

1  '11  kiss  my  treasure  a'  the  live  lang  day  : 
All  night  I  '11  dream  my  kisses  o'er  again. 
Till  that  day  come  that  ye  '11  be  a'  my  ain. 


Sun,  gallop  down  the  westlin  skies. 
Gang  soon  to  bed,  and  quickly  rise  ; 
0  lash  your  steeds,  post  time  away. 
And  haste  about  our  bridal-day  ; 
And  if  you  'i-e  wearied,  honest  light. 
Sleep,  gin  ye  like,  a  week  that  night. 

[Curtain  falls,  while  they  kiss.'] 


Now  turn  your  eves  beyond  yon  spreading  lim 
And  tent  a  man  whase  beard  seems  bleached  v 
Ane  elwand  fills  his  hand,  his  habit  mean, 
Nae  doubt  ye  '11  think  he  has  a  pedler  been  ;  - 

That  comts,  hid  in  this  cloud,  to  see  his  lad. 
Ol.seive  h..«-  pleased  the  loyal  suff'rer  moves 
Thro'  his  auld  av'nues,  anes  delighttu'  groves. 

SIR  WILLIAM  solus. 

The  gentleman  thus  hid  in  low  disguis 
I  '11  for  a  space,  unknown,  delight  mine  eyes 
With  a  full  view  of  ev'ry  fertile  plain. 
Which  once  I  lost,  which  now  are  mine  again. 
Yet,  'midst  my  joy,  some  prospects  pain  renew. 
Whilst  I  my  once  fair  seat  in  ruins  view. 
Yonder,  ah  me  !  it  desolately  stands,  — 
Without  a  roof ;  the  gates  fall'n  from  their  bands; 
The  casements  all  broke  down  ;  no  chimney  left ; 
The  naked  walls  of  tapestry  all  bereft. 
My  stables  and  pavilions,  broken  walls. 
That  with  each  rainy  blast  decaying  falls  ; 
My  gardens  once  adorned  the  most  complete. 
With  all  that  nature,  all  that  art  makes  sweet ; 
Where  round  the  figured  green  and  pebble-walks 
The  dewy  fiow'rs  hung  nodding  on  their  stalks  ; 


SPRING  —  MAY. 


113 


But  overgrown  with  Dcttlea,  docks,  and  brior, 
No  hyacinths  or  oghintines  appear.* 
Hero  failed  and  broke 's  the  rising  ample  shade. 
Where  peach   and   neot'rino  trees   their  branches 

spread. 
Basking  in  rays,  and  early  did  produce 
Fruit  fair  to  view,  deliglitful  to  the  use. 
All  round  in  gaps  the  walls  in  ruin  lye, 
And  from  what  stands  the  withered  branches  fly. 
These  soon  shall  be  repaired  :  —  and  now  my  joy 
Forbids  all  grief,  when  I  'm  to  see  my  boy,  — 
My  only  prop,  and  object  of  my  care, 
Since  Ueav'n  too  soon  called  homo  his  mother  fair. 
Him,  ere  the  rays  of  reason  cleared  his  thought, 
I  secretly  to  faithful  Symon  brought. 
And  charged  him  strictly  to  conceal  his  birth, 
Till  we  should  see  what  changing  times  brought 

forth. 
Hid  from  himself,  he  starts  up  by  the  dawn. 
And  ranges  careless  o'er  the  height  and  lawn. 
After  his  fleecy  charge  serenely  gay, 
With  other  shepherds  whistling  o'er  the  day. 
Thrice  happy  life  !  that's  from  ambition  free, 
Removed  from  crowns,  and  courts,  how  cheerfully, 
A  calm,  contented  mortal  spends  bis  time. 
In  hearty  health,  his  soul  unstained  with  crime  ! 


TCNE.  ■ 


'  Happy  ( 


Hid  from  himself,  now  by  the  dawn 
He  starts  as  fresh  as  roses  blawn. 
And  ranges  o'er  the  heights  and  lawn, 

After  his  bleating  flocks. 
Healthful,  and  innocently  gay. 
Ho  chaunts  and  whistles  out  the  day  ; 
Untaught  to  smile  and  then  betray, 

Like  courtly  weathercocks. 

Life  happy,  from  ambition  free, 
Eni-y,  and  vile  hypocri-sy. 
When  truth  and  love  with  joy  agree, 
Unsullied  with  a  crime  : 

Unmoved  with  what  disturbs  the  great. 
In  propping  of  their  pride  and  state. 
Ho  lives,  and,  unafraid  of  fate. 
Contented  spends  his  time. 

Now  tow'rds  good  Symon's  house  I  '11  bend  my  way. 
And  see  what  makes  yon  gamboling  to-day. 
All  on  the  green,  in  a  fair  wanton  ring. 
My  youthful  tenants  gayly  dance  and  sing. 

[£x,/.] 
>  The  edition  of  1808  reads  here : 

*  No  jaccacinths  or  eglantines  appear. 
How  do  these  ample  walls  lo  ruin  yield. 
Where  peach  and  nect'rine  branches  found  a  bield. 
And  basked  in  rays,  which  early  did  produce 
Fruit  fair  to  view,  delightful  In  the  use  ! 
All  round  in  gaps,  the  roost  in  rubbish  lie. 
And  from  what  stands  the  withered  branches  fly.' 


SCENE    II. 


T  is  Symon's  house,  please  lo  step  in, 

And  visy  't  round  and  round  -, 
There 's  naught  superfluous  to  give  pain, 

Or  costly  to  he  found.     > 
Vet,  all  iH  clean  ;  a  clear  {wat  ingle 

Glances  iiniWst  the  floor  ; 
The  green  hi)rii-»i«H)ns,  beech-luggles  mingle, 

On  skelfs  forgainst  the  door. 
While  the  young  lirood  siK>rt  on  the  green, 

The  auld  uties  think  it  Iwst 
With  the  brown  cow  lo  clear  their  een, 

Soufr,  crack,  and  take  their  rest. 

SVIION,    GLAUD,    AMD   EL9PA. 


Wei 


I  young  oursclls  !  —  I  like  to  i 


The  bairns  bob  round  with  other  merrylio. 
Troth,  Symon,  Patie  's  grown  a  strapan  lad, 
And  better  looks  than  his  I  never  bade  ! 
/Vmang  our  lads  he  bears  the  grco  awa'. 
And  tells  his  tale  the  clev'rcst  of  them  a*. 


Poor  man  !  he's  a  great  comfort  to  us  baith. 
God  make  him  good,  and  hide  him  aye  frae  skaith  ! 
Ho  is  a  bairn,  —  I'll  say 't,  —  well-worth  our  care, 
That  gae  us  ne'er  vexation  late  or  air. 


I  trow,  good  wife,  if  I  be  not  mistane. 
He  seems  to  be  with  Peggy's  beauty  tanc. 
And  troth  my  niece  is  a  right  dainty  wean. 
As  ye  well  ken  ;  a  bonnyer  needna  be. 
Nor  better,  be 't  she  were  nae  kin  to  me. 

Ha,  Glaud,  I  doubt  that  ne'er  will  be  a  match  ! 
My  Patie  's  wild,  and  will  be  ill  to  catch  ; 
And  or  he  were  —  for  reasons  I  '11  no  tell  — 
I  'd  rather  bo  mixt  with  the  mools  mysell. 

What  reasons  can  ye  have  ?  —  There  's  nano,  I  *m 
Unless  ye  may  cast  up  that  she 's  but  poor.      [sure. 
But  gif  the  lassie  marry  to  my  mind, 
I  '11  bo  to  her  as  my  ain  Jenny  kind  : 
Fourscore  of  breeding  ewes  of  my  ain  birn,  — 
Five  kye  that  at  ao  milking  fills  a  kirn,— 
I  '11  gio  to  Peggy  that  day  she 's  a  brido 
By  and  attour,  if  my  good  luck  abide. 
Ten  lambs  at  spaining  time  as  lang  's  I  live. 
And  twa  quey  cawfs  I  '11  yearly  to  them  give. 

ELSPA. 

Ye  offer  fair,  kind  Glaud  ;  but  dinna  spoer 
^Vhat  may  be  is  not  fit  yo  yet  should  hear. 

Or  this  day  eight  days,  likely,  he  shall  leam. 
That  our  denial  disna  slight  his  bairn. 

We'll  nao  mair  o't?  —  Come,  gies  the  other  bend. 
We'll  drink  their  healths,  whatever  may  it  end. 

[Their  healths  <jae  round.] 


114 


RURAL    POETRY. 


But  will  ye  tell  me,  Glaud  ?  —  By  some,  't  is  said, 
Tour  niece  is  but  a  fundling,  that  was  laid 
Down  at  your  hallon-side  ae  morn  in  May, 
Right  clean  roVd  up,  and  bedded  on  dry  hay. 

That  clattern  Madge,  my  titty,  tells  sic  flaws. 
Whene'er  our  Meg  her  cankart  humor  gaws  ! 
Enter  JENNY. 

0  father,  there  is  an  old  man  on  the  green. 
The  fellest  fortune-teller  e'er  was  seen  ! 

He  tents  our  loofs,  and  syne  whops  out  a  book. 
Turns  owre  the  leaves,  and  gies  our  brows  a  look  ; 
Syne  tells  the  oddest  tales  that  e'er  ye  heard. 
His  head  is  gray,  and  lang  and  gray  his  beard. 

Gae  bring  him  in,  we  'II  hear  what  he  can  say, 
Nane  shall  gang  hungry  by  my  house  to-day. 

[Exit  Jenny. -[ 
But  for  his  telling  fortunes,  troth,  I  fear 
He  kens  nae  mair  of  that  than  my  gray  mare  ! 

Spae-men  !  the  truth  of  a'  their  saws  I  doubt. 
For  greater  liars  never  ran  thereout. 

Reenter    Jenny,    bringing   in    Sir  William  ;   Patie 
following. 

Ye  're  welcome,  honest  carle  !  —  Here  tak  a  seat. 

1  give  you  thanks,  good  man,  I  'so  no  be  blate. 

GLACD  (drinks). 
Come,  t'  ye,  friend  !  —  How  far  came  ye  the  day  7 

SIR  WILLIAM. 

I  pledge  ye,  nibour  !  —  E'en  but  little  way  : 
Rousted  with  eild,  a  wie  piece  gate  seems  lang  ; 
Twa  miles  or  three 's  the  maist  that  I  do  gang. 

Ye  're  welcome  here  to  stay  all  night  with  me, 
And  tak  sic  bed  and  board  as  we  can  gie. 

SIR  ^VILLIAM. 

That 's  kind  unsought !  — Well,  gin  ye  have  a  bairn 
That  ye  like  well,  and  wad  his  fortune  learn, 
I  shall  employ  the  farthest  of  my  skill 
To  spae  it  faithfully,  be 't  good  or  ill. 
SYMON  (pointing  to  Patie). 

Only  that  lad.  —  Alack  !  I  have  nae  mae. 
Either  to  make  me  joyful  now  or  wao. 


Young  man,  let 's  see  your  hand. 


-What 


■  skill 's  but  little  worth,  I  fear. 


Ye  cut  before  the  point !  —  But,  billy,  bido, 
I  '11  wager  there 's  a  mouse-mark  on  your  side. 


Betoooh-us-too  !     And  well  I  wat  that 's  true  : 
Awa !  awa  !  the  deil  's  owre  grit  wi'  you. 
Four  inch  aneath  'his  oxter  is  the  mark. 
Scarce  ever  seen  since  he  first  wore  a  sark. 

SIR  WILLIAM. 

I  'II  tell  ye  mair  :  if  this  young  lad  be  spared 
But  a  short  while,  he  '11  be  a  braw  rich  laird. 

A  laird !  —  Hear  ye,  goodman,  what  think  ye  now  ? 

I  dinna  ken  *  —  Strange  auld  man,  what  art  thou  ? 
Fair  fa'  your  heart,  't  is  good  to  bode  of  wealth  !  — 
Come  turn  the  timmer  to  laird  Patio's  health. 

[Patie's  health  gaes  round.'\ 

A  laird  of  twa  good  whistles  and  a  kent,  — 
Twa  curs,  my  trusty  tenants  on  the  bent,  — 
Is  all  my  great  estate,  and  like  to  be  : 
Sae,  cunning  carle,  ne'er  break  your  jokes  on  me  ! 

SYMON. 

Whisht,  Patie,  let  the  man  look  ow'r  your  hand  ; 

Aftymes  as  broken  a  ship  has  come  to  land. 

[Sir  William  looks  a  little  at  Patie's  hand,  then  coun- 
terfeits falling  into  a  trance,  while  they  endeavor  to 
lay  him  right.'] 

ELSPA. 

Preserve 's  !  —  the  man 's  a  warlock,  or  possest 
With  some  nae  good,  or  second-sight  at  least ! 
Where  is  he  now  ? 

He 's  seeing  a'  that 's  done 
In  ilka  place  beneath  or  yont  the  moon. 

These  second-sighted  fowks  —  his  peace  be  here !  — 
See  things  far  aflf,  and  things  to  come,  as  clear. 
As  I  can  see  my  thumb  !  —  Wow  !  can  he  tell  — 
Speer  at'  him  soon  as  he  comes  to  himsell  — 
How  soon  we'll   see   Sir  William ?  — 'Whisht,  he 

heaves. 
And  speaks  out  broken  words  like  ane  that  raves. 

He  'II  soon  grow  better.  —  Elspa,  haste  ye,  gae 
And  fill  him  up  a  tass  of  usquebae. 

SIR  wiLLUM  (starts  up  and  speaks). 
A  knight  that  for  a  lion  fought. 

Against  a  herd  of  bears. 
Was  to  lang  toil  and  trouble  brought. 

In  which  some  thousands  shares  : 
But  now  again  the  lion  rares. 

And  joy  spreads  o'er  the  plain  ; 
The  lion  has  defeat  the  bears. 

The  knight  returns  again. 
That  knight  in  a  few  days  shall  bring 

A  shepherd  frae  the  fauld. 
And  shall  present  him  to  the  king, 

A  subject  true  and  bauld  ; 


SPRING  —  MAT. 


115 


He  Mr.  Patrick  shall  bo  called  :  — 

All  you  that  hoar  mo  now 
May  well  believo  what  I  Inuo  liM, 

For  it  shall  happen  true. 

Friend,  may  your  spacing  happen  soon  and  wool ! 
But,  faith,  I  'm  redd  you  'vo  bargained  with  the  deil, 
To  tell  some  tales  that  fowks  wad  secret  keep  ; 
Or  do  you  got  them  tald  you  in  your  sleep  ? 

Howo'or  I  get  them  never  fash  your  beard  ; 
Nor  come  I  to  redd  fortunes  for  reward  ; 
But  I  '11  lay  ten  to  ano  with  ony  here, 
That  all  I  prophesy  shall  soon  appear. 

You  prophesying  fowks  arc  odd  kind  men  !  — 
They  'ro  here  that  ken,  and  here  that  disna  ken 
The  wimpled  meaning  of  your  unco  tale, 
AVhilk  soon  will  mak  a  noise  o'er  moor  and  dale. 

T  is  nae  sma'  sport  to  hear  how  Sym  believes, 
And  takes 't  for  gospel  what  the  spae-man  gives 
Of  flawing  fortunes,  whilk  he  evens  to  Pato  : 
But  what  wo  wish  wo  trow  at  ony  rate. 

SIR  WILLIAM. 

Whisht,  doubtfu'  carlo  ;  for  ere  tho  sun 

lias  driven  twice  down  to  the  sea. 
What  I  have  said  ye  shall  see  done 
In  part,  or  nae  mair  credit  mo. 
cla™. 
Well,  be 't  sae,  friend  !  —  I  shall  say  nathing  mair. 
But  I  've  twa  sonsy  lasses,  young  and  fair. 
Plump,  ripe  for  men  :  I  wish  ye  oou'd  foresee 
Sic  fortunes  for  them  might  bring  joy  to  mo. 

Nae  mair  thro'  secrets  can  I  sift, 

Till  darkness  black  the  bent ; 
I  have  but  anes  a  day  that  gift, 

Sae  rest  a  while  content. 

SYMOS. 

Elspa,  cast  on  the  claith,  fetch  butt  some  moat. 
And  of  your  best  gar  this  auld  stranger  oat. 

SW   WILLIAM.  , 

Delay  a  while  your  hospitable  care  ; 
I  'd  rather  enjoy  this  evening  calm  and  fair, 
Around  yon  ruined  tower  to  fetch  a  walk. 
With  you,  kind  friend,  to  have  some  private  talk. 


Soon  as  you  please  I  '11  answer  your  desire  :  — • 
And,  Glaud,  you'll  tak  your  pipe  beside  the  fire  ; 
We  '11  but  gao  round  tho  place,  and  soon  be  back, 
Syno  sup  together,  and  tak  our  pint  and  crack. 

I'll  out  a  while,  and  see  the  young  anes  play  ; 
My  heart's  still  light,  albeit  my  looks  bo  gray. 

lExeunl.] 


SCENE     III. 


AND   JENNY. 


Dear  Jenny,  I  wad  speak  t'  ye,  wad  ye  let ; 
And  yet  I  ergh,  ye  'ro  ay  sae  scomfu'  sot. 


And  what  would  Roger  say,  if  he  could  speak  ? 
Am  I  obliged  to  guess  what  ye  'ro  to  seek  7 
aooea. 

Yes,  ye  may  guess  right  eith  for  what  I  groin, 
Baith  by  my  service,  sighs,  and  langing  een  ; 
And  I  maun  out  wi't,  tho'  I  risk  your  scorn, 
Ye  'ro  never  frao  my  thoughts  baith  e'en  and  morn. 
Ah  !  could  I  looe  ye  loss,  I  'd  happy  bo  ; 
But  happier  far,  could  ye  but  fancy  me  ! 

And  wha  kens,  honest  lad,  but  that  I  may  ? 
Yo  canna  say  that  e'er  I  said  ye  nay. 

Alake  !  my  frighted  heart  begins  to  fail. 
Whene'er  I  mint  to  tell  ye  out  my  tale. 
For  fear  some  tighter  lad,  mair  rich  than  I, 
Has  win  your  love,  and  near  your  heart  may  lie. 

JEXST. 

I  looo  my  father,  cousin  Meg  I  love  ; 
But  to  this  day  nao  man  my  heart  cou'd  move. 
Except  my  kin,  ilk  lad 's  alike  to  mo. 
And  frae  yo  a'  I  best  had  keep  mo  free. 

How  lang,  dear  Jenny  ?  —  sayna  that  again  ; 
What  pleasure  can  yo  tak  in  giving  pain  ? 
I  'm  glad,  however,  that  ye  yet  stand  free  ; 
Wha  kens  but  yo  may  rue,  and  pity  me  ? 

Yo  have  my  pity  else,  to  see  you  set 
On  that  whilk  makes  our  sweetness  soon  forget. 
Wow  !  but  we  'ro  bonny,  good,  and  everything  ! 
llow  sweet  we  breathe  whene'er  we  kiss  or  sing  ! 
But  we  'ro  nae  sooner  fools  to  give  consent. 
Than  wo  our  daffin  and  tint  power  repent ; 
When  prisoned  in  four  wa's,  a  wife  right  tamo, 
Altho'  tho  first,  tho  greatest  drudge  at  hame. 

That  only  happens  when  for  sake  of  gear 
Ane  wales  a  wife,  as  ho  would  buy  a  mare  ; 
Or  when  dull  parents  bairns  together  bind 
Of  different  tempers,  that  can  ne'er  prove  kind  ; 
But  love,  true  downright  love,  engages  me, 
Tho'  thou  should  scorn,  still  to  delight  in  thoe. 


116 


RURAL   POETRY. 


What  sugared  words  frae  wooers'  lips  can  fa' 
But  girning  marriage  comes  and  ends  them  a'. 
I  've  seen  with  shining  fair  the  morning  rise, 
And  soon  the  sleety  clouds  mirk  a'  the  skies  ; 
I  've  seen  the  silver  spring  a  while  rin  clear, 
And  soon  in  mossy  puddles  disappear  ; 
The  bridegroom  may  rejoice,  the  bride  may  sm 
But  soon  contentions  a'  their  joys  beguile. 


I  've  seen  the  morning  rise  with  fairest  light, 
The  day  unclouded  sink  in  calmest  night ; 
I  've  seen  the  spring  rin  wimpling  thro'  the  plain, 
Increase  and  join  the  ocean  without  stain  ; 
The  bridegroom  may  be  blyth,  the  bride  may  smile. 
Rejoice  thro'  life,  and  all  your  fears  beguile. 


"Were  I  but  sure  ye  lang  would  love  maintain. 
The  fewest  words  my  easy  heart  could  gain  ; 
For  I  maun  own,  —  since  now  at  last  you  're  free,  — 
Altho'  I  joked,  I  loved  your  company  ; 
And  ever  had  a  warmness  in  my  breast. 
That  made  ye  dearer  to  me  than  the  rest. 


I  *m  happy  now  !  o'er  happy  !  had  my  head  !  — 
This  gush  of  pleasure 's  like  to  be  my  dead. 
Come  to  my  arms  !  —  or  strike  me  !  —  I  'm  all  fired 
With  wond'ring  love  !  —  Let 's  kiss  till  we  be  tired. 
Kiss  !  kiss  !  —  we  '11  kiss  the  sun  and  starns  away. 
And  ferly  at  the  quick  return  of  day. 
0  Jenny  !  let  my  arms  about  thee  twine, 
And  briz  thy  bonny  breast  and  lips  to  mine. 

\_They  embrace.] 


SANQ  xni. 

E.  —  '  Leith  Wynd: 


Were  I  assured  you  '11  constant  prove. 

You  should  nae  mair  complain  ; 
The  easy  maid  beset  with  love. 

Few  words  will  quickly  gain  : 
For  I  must  own  now,  since  you're  free, 

This  too  fond  heart  of  mine 
Has  lang,  a  black-sole  true  to  thee. 

Wished  to  be  paired  with  thine. 


I  'm  happy  now  !     Ah  !  let  my  head 

Upon  thy  breast  recline  ; 
The  pleasure  strikes  me  near-hand  dead  !  - 

Is  Jenny  then  sae  kind  ?  — 
0  let  me  briz  thee  to  my  heart. 

And  round  my  arms  entwine. 
Delytfu'  thought !  we  '11  never  part ; 

Come,  press  thy  mouth  to  mine. 


With  equal  joy  my  safter  heart  does  yield. 
To  own  thy  well-tryed  love  has  won  the  field.' 
Now  by  these  warmest  kisses  thou  hast  ta'en. 
Swear  thus  to  love  me  when  by  vows  made  an( 


I  swear  by  fifty  thousand  yet  to  come,  — ■ 
Or  may  the  first  ane  strike  me  deaf  and  dumb,  — 
There  shall  not  be  a  kindlier  dawted  wife. 
If  you  agree  with  me  to  lead  your  life  ! 

Well,  I  agree  !  —  neist  to  my  parent  gae. 
Get  his  consent,  he  '11  hardly  say  ye  nae. 
Ye  have  what  will  commend  ye  to  him  weel, 
Auld  fowks  like  them  that  want  na  milk  and  meal. 

SANG  xrv. 

TtiSE.  — '  O^er  Bogie.'' 


Well,  I  agree,  ye  're  sure  of  me  ; 

Nest  to  my  father  gae  ; 
Make  him  content  to  give  consent ; 

He  '11  hardly  say  ye  nae. 
For  ye  have  what  he  wad  be  at. 

And  will  commend  you  weel  ; 
Since  parents  auld  think  love  grows  cauld, 

Where  bairns  want  milk  and  meal. 


Should  he  deny. 

He  'd  contradict  in  vain  ; 
Tho'  a'  my  kin  had  said  and  sworn. 

But  thee  I  will  have  nane. 
Then  never  range,  nor  learn  to  change 

Like  those  in  high  degree  ; 
And  if  you  faithful  prove  in  love, 

You'll  find  nae  faut  in  me. 


My  faulds  contain  twice  fifteen  farrow  nowt ; 
As  mony  newcal  in  my  byers  rowt ; 
Five  pack  of  woo  I  can  at  Lammas  sell, 
Shorn  from  my  bob-tailed  bleeters  on  the  fell ; 
Good  twenty  pair  of  blankets  for  our  bed. 
With  meikle  care  my  thrifty  mither  made  ; 
Ilk  thing  that  makes  a  heartsome  house  and  tight. 
Was  still  her  care,  my  father's  great  delight. 
They  left  me  all,  which  now  gies  joy  to  me, 
Because  I  can  give  a',  my  dear,  to  thee. 
And  had  I  fifty  times  as  meikle  mair, 
Nane  but  my  Jenny  should  the  samen  skair  ; 
My  love  and  all  is  yours  ;  now  had  them  fast. 
And  guide  them  as  ye  like  to  gar  them  last. 

I  '11  do  my  best :  but  see  wha  comes  this  way,  — 
Patie  and  Meg  !  —  Besides,  I  mauna  stay. 

1 '  With  equal  joy  my  easy  heart  gives  way, 
To  own  thy  well-tried  love  has  won  the  day.' 

Edition  O/1808. 


SPRING  —  MAY. 


117 


Let 's  steal  frao  ither  now,  and  moot  the  morn  ; 
If  wo  bo  seen,  wo  '11  drco  a  deal  of  scorn. 

To  whore  the  saugh-troo  shades  the  monnin  pool, 

I  '11  frao  the  hill  come  down  when  day  grows  cool. 

Keep  tryst,  and  meet  m©  there  ;  there  let  us  meet, 

To  kiss  and  tell  our  loves  ;  there's  naught  so  sweet! 

lExeunt.] 

SCENE    IV. 


SIR    WILLIAM    AND   SVMOS. 
SIR  WILLIAM. 

To  whom  belongs  this  house  so  much  decayed  ? 

To  ane  that  lost  it,  lending  gen'rous  aid 
To  bear  the  head  up,  when  rebellious  tail, 
Against  the  laws  of  nature,  did  prevail. 
Sir  William  Worthy  is  our  master's  name, 
Whilk  fills  us  all  with  joy,  now  he's  come  hamo. 

(Sir  WllUam  arnps  hfs  masking  beard  ; 

SymoD,  transported,  sees 
The  welcome  knight,  with  fond  regard. 

And  grasps  him  round  the  knees.) 

My  master  !  my  dear  master  !  —  do  I  breathe, 
Tu  see  him  healthy,  strong,  and  free  frae  skaith. 
Returned  to  cheer  his  wishing  tenants'  sight,  — 
To  bless  his  son,  my  charge,  the  world's  delight ! 


1  my  arms  enjoy 
tlisin  of  my  boy  ! 


Rise,  faithful  Pyrann  ; 
A  place  thy  fliir,  kin^  j; 

And  am  cnTitii  iiir>l  tli\  - iurt  liiis  been  wise  ; 

Since  still  tli.-  <r,  rri  tin  u  -t  -..■urely  sealed, 
And  ne'er  to  him  his  real  birth  revealed. 

STMON. 

The  due  obedience  to  your  strict  command 
Was  the  first  lock  ;  neist  my  ain  judgment  fand 
Out  reasons  plenty  ;  since,  without  estate, 
A  youth,  though  sprung  frae  kings,  looks  bauch 
and  blate. 


And  aften  vain  nnil  idly  spend  their  time. 
Till  grown  unfit  for  action,  pat^t  their  prime, 
Hang  on  their  friends  ;  which  gics  their  sauls  a  cast, 
That  turns  them  downright  beggars  at  the  last. 

Now  wecl  I  wat,  sir,  you  have  spoken  true  ! 
For  there 's  laird  Kytie's  son,  that 's  loo'd  by  few  ; 
His  father  steght  his  fortune  in  his  wame. 
And  left  his  heir  naught  but  a  gentle  name. 
He  gangs  about  sonan  frao  place  to  place. 
As  scrimpt  of  manners  as  of  sense  and  grace  ; 


Oppressing  a',  as  punishment  o'  their  sin, 
That  are  within  his  tenth  degree  of  kin  ; 
Rins  in  ilk  trader's  debt  wha  's  sao  unjust 
To  his  ain  family  as  to  give  him  trust. 

Such  useless  branches  of  a  commonwealth 
Should  be  lopt  off,  to  give  a  stato  mair  health  : 
Unwortliy  bare  reflection  !  —  Symon,  run 
O'er  all  your  observations  on  my  son  ; 
A  parent's  fondness  easily  finds  excuse  ; 
But  do  not,  with  indulgence,  truth  abuse. 

SVMOS. 

To  speak  his  praise,  the  langest  simmer  day 
'Wad  be  owro  short,  could  I  thorn  right  display. 
In  word  and  deed  ho  can  sao  well  behave. 
That  out  of  sight  ho  rins  before  the  lave  ; 
And  when  there 's  e'er  a  quarrel  or  contest, 
Patrick  's  made  judge,  to  tell  whase  cause  is  best ; 
And  his  decreet  stands  good  —  he  '11  gar  it  stand  ; 
Wha  dares  to  grumble  finds  his  correcting  hand  ; 
With  a  firm  look,  and  a  commanding  way, 
Ho  gars  the  proudest  of  our  herds  obey. 


Your  tale  much  pleases  :  —  My  good  friend,  pro- 
^Vhat  learning  has  he  ?     Can  ho  write  and  road  ? 

Baith  wonder  weel  ;  for,  troth,  I  didna  spare 
To  gio  him  at  the  school  enough  of  lear  ; 
And  ho  delights  in  books.     Ho  reads  and  speaks, 
With  fowks  that  ken  them,  Latin  words  and  Greeks. 

SIR  WILLIiM. 

Where  gets  he  books  to  read,  and  of  what  kind  ?  — 
Tho'  some  give  light,  some  blindly  lead  the  blind. 

Whene'er  he  drives  our  sheep  to  Edinburgh  port, 
He  buys  some  books  of  history,  snngs,  or  sport. 
Nor  does  ho  want  of  them  a  rowth  at  will, 
And  carries  ay  a  poucbfu'  to  tho  hill. 
About  ane  Shakespear  and  a  famous  Ben 
Ho  aflon  speaks,  and  ca's  them  best  of  men. 
How  sweetly  Hawthornden  and  Stirling  sing. 
And  ane  caw'd  Cowley,  loyol  to  his  king, 
Ho  kens  fou  weel,  and  gars  their  verses  ring. 
I  sometimes  thought  that  ho  made  o'er  groat  fraso 
About  fine  poems,  histories,  and  plays  : 
When  I  reproved  him  anos,  a  book  ho  brings,  — 
•  With    this,'   quoth   he,   '  on  braes  I   crack   with 
kings ! ' 

He  answered  well.     And  much  ye  glad  my  cor, 
When  such  accounts  I  of  my  shepherd  hear  : 
Reading  such  books  can  raise  a  peasant's  mind 
Above  a  lord's  that  is  not  thus  inclined. 

What  ken  we  bettor  that  sao  sindlc  look, 
Except  on  rainy  Sundays,  on  a  book  ? 


118 


RURAL    POETRY. RAMSAY. 


When  we  a  leaf  or  twa  haf  read,  haf  spell, 
Till  a'  the  rest  sleep  round  as  weel  's  oursell. 

Well  jested,  Symon  !  —  But  one  question  more 
I  '11  only  ask  you  now,  and  then  give  o'er. 
The  youth 's  arrived  the  age  when  little  loves 
Flighter  around  young  hearts  like  cooing  doves  : 
Has  nae  young  lassie  with  inviting  mien 
And  rosy  cheek,  the  wonder  of  the  green, 
Engaged  his  look,  and  caught  his  youthfu'  heart? 

I  feared  the  warst,  hut  ken'd  the  smallest  part ; 
Till  late  I  saw  him  twa  three  times  mair  sweet 
With  Gland's  fair  niece  than  I  thought  right  or  meet. 
I  had  my  fears,  but  now  have  naught  to  fear. 
Since  like  yourself  your  son  will  soon  appear  ; 
A  gentleman,  enriched  with  all  these  charms, 
May  bless  the  fairest  best-born  ladies'  arms. 

SIR  WILLIAM. 

This  night  must  end  his  unambitious  fire. 
When  higher  views  shall  greater  thoughts  inspire. 
Go,  Symon,  bring  him  quickly  here  to  me  ; 
None  but  yourself  shall  our  first  meeting  see. 
Yonder 's  my  horse  and  servants  nigh  at  hand  ; 
They  come  just  at  the  time  I  gave  command  ; 
Straight  in  my  own  apparel  I  '11  go  dress  ; 
Now  ye  the  secret  may  to  all  confess. 

With  how  much  joy  I  on  this  errand  flee, 
There 's  nane  can  know  that  is  not  downright  me  ! 
[Exit  Symon.'] 
sm  WILLIAM  solus. 
Whene'er  the  event  of  hope's  success  appears, 
One  happy  hour  cancels  the  toil  of  years  ; 
A  thousand  toils  are  lost  in  Lethe's  stream, 
And  cares  evanish  like  a  morning  dream  ; 
When  wished  for  pleasures  rise  like  morning  light, 
The  pain  that 's  past  enhances  the  delight. 
These  joys  I  feel,  that  words  can  ill  express, 
I  ne'er  had  known,  without  my  late  distress. 
But  from  his  rustic  business  and  love 
I  must  in  haste  my  Patrick  soon  remove 
To  courts  and  camps  that  may  his  soul  improve. 
Like  the  rough  diamond,  as  it  leaves  the  mine, 

Only  in  little  breakings  show  its  light. 
Till  artful  polishing  has  made  it  shine,  — 
Thus  education  makes  the  genius  bright. 

SANG  XV. 
Tune.  — '  Wat  ye  wha  1  met  yestreen  P 
Now  from  rusticity  and  love. 

Whose  flames  but  over  lowly  burn, 
My  gentle  shepherd  must  be  drove, 

His  soul  must  take  another  turn. 
As  the  rough  diamond  from  the  mine 

In  breaking  only  shows  its  light. 
Till  polishing  has  made  it  shine,  — 

Thus  learning  makes  the  genius  bright. 

[Exit. 


ACT    IV.  — SCENE    I. 


Our  laird 's  come  hame  !  —  And  owns  young  Pate 
his  heir. 

That 's  news  indeed  ! 

As  true  as  ye  stand  there  ! 

As  they  were  dancing  a'  in  Symon's  yard. 

Sir  William,  like  a  warlock,  with  a  beard 

Five  nieves  in  length,  and  white  as  driven  snaw, 

Amang  us  came,  eryed,  '  Haud  ye  merry  a' ! ' 

We  ferlyed  meikle  at  his  unco  look. 

While  frae  his  pouch  he  whirled  forth  a  book  ; 

As  we  stood  round  about  him  on  the  green, 

He  viewed  us  a',  but  fixed  on  Pate  his  een  ; 

Then  pawkily  pretended  he  could  spae. 

Yet  for  his  pains  and  skill  wad  naething  hae. 

Then  sure  the  lasses,  and  ilk  gaping  coof. 
Wad  rin  about  him,  and  had  out  their  loof  ! 

MADGE. 

As  fast  as  fleas  skip  to  the  tate  of  woo, 
Whilk  slee  tod-lowrie  bads  without  his  mow. 
When  he  to  drown  them,  and  his  hips  to  cool, 
In  simmer  days  slides  backward  in  a  pool  ! 
In  short,  he  did  for  Pate  braw  things  foretell, 
Without  the  help  of  conjuring  or  spell. 
At  last,  when  well-diverted,  he  withdrew, 
Pou'd  aff  his  beard  to  Symon  ;  —  Symon  knew 
His  welcome  master  ;  — round  his  knees  he  gat, 
Hang  at  his  coat,  and  syne  for  blythness  grat. 
Patrick  was  sent  for  :  —  happy  lad  is  he  !  — 
Symon  tald  Elspa  ;  Elspa  tald  it  me. 
Ye  '11  hear  out  a'  the  secret  story  soon. 
And  troth  't  is  e'en  right  odd,  when  a'  is  done, 
To  think  how  Symon  ne'er  afore  wad  tell, — 
Na,  no  sae  meikle  as  to  Pate  himsell ! 
Our  Meg,  poor  thing,  alake  !  has  lost  her  jo. 

It  may  be  sae,  wha  kens  ?     And  may  be  no. 
To  lift  a  love  that 's  rooted  is  great  pain  : 
E'en  kings  have  tane  a  queen  out  of  the  plain  ; 
And  what  has  been  before  may  be  again. 

Sic  nonsense  !    Love  tak  root,  but  tocher-good, 
'Tween  a  herd's  bairn  and  ane  of  gentle  blood  ! 
Sic  fashions  in  King  Bruce's  days  might  be, 
But  sicoan  ferlies  now  we  never  see. 

Gif  Pate  forsakes  her,  Bauldy  she  may  gain  ; 
Yonder  he  comes  !     And  vow  !  but  he  looks  fain  ; 
Nae  doubt  he  thinks  that  Peggy's  now  his  ain. 


SPRING  —  MAT. 


119 


Ho  get  her  !  sloverin  doof  !  it  sets  him  well 
To  yoke  a  plough  wliero  Patriclt  thought  to  till ! 
Gif  I  were  Mog,  I  'd  let  young  master  see  — 


Ye  'd  be  as  dorty  in  your  ehoico  as  he  ; 
And  so  wad  I !  —  liut  whisht !  here  Bauldy  comes. 

Jocky  sold  to  Jenny,  Jenny  wilt  thou  do 't  ? 
Xc'er  a  fit,  quoth  Jenny,  for  my  tocher-good,  — 
For  ray  tocher-good  I  winna  marry  thee  ! 
E'en's  ye  like,  quoth  JoCky,  yo  may  lot  it  bo  ! 

We  liltct,  Bauldy,  that 's  a  dainty  sang. 

I  'II  gie  ye 't  a'  —  't  is  better  than  't  is  laug  ! 

(Sinijs  aijain.) 
I  hae  gowd  and  gear  ;  I  hae  land  'eneugb  ; 
I  have  seven  good  owsen  ganging  in  a  pleugh,  — 
Ganging  in  a  plcugh,  and  linkan  o'er  the  lee  ; 
And  gin  ye  winna  tak  me,  I  can  let  ye  be. 

I  hae  a  good  ha*  house,  a  barn,  and  a  byer, — 
A  peat-stack  'fore  the  door,  will  mak  a  rantin  fire: 
I'll  mak  a  rantin  fire,  and  merry  sail  we  be  : 
And  gin  ye  winna  tak  me,  I  can  let  ye  be. 

Jenny  said  to  Jocky,  gin  ye  winna  tell, 
Te  sail  be  the  lad,  I  'II  be  the  lass  mysell ; 
Ye  're  a  bonny  lad,  and  I  'm  a  lassie  free  ; 
Ye  're  welcomcr  to  tak  me  than  to  let  me  be. 

I  trow  sae  !     Lasses  will  come  to  at  last, 
Tho'  for  a  while  they  maun  their  snaw-baws  cast. 

MiCSE. 

Well,  Bauldy,  how  gaes  a'? 

Faith,  unco  right ; 
I  hope  we  'II  a'  sleep  sound  but  ane  this  night ! 

And  wha  's  tho  unlucky  ane,  if  we  may  ask  ? 

To  find  out  that  is  nae  difficult  task  : 
Poor  bonny  Peggy,  wha  maun  think  nae  mair 
On  Pate,  turned  Patrick,  and  Sir  William's  heir. 
Now,  now,  good  Madge,  and  honest  Mause,  stand  be ; 
While  Meg's  in  dumps,  put  in  a  word  for  mo  ; 
I'll  be  as  kind  as  ever  Pate  could  prove, 
Less  wilfu',  and  ay  constant  in  my  love. 

UADGE. 

As  Neps  can  witness,  and  tho  bushy  thorn, 
Where  mony  a  time  to  her  your  heart  was  sworn  ! 
Fy,  Bauldy,  blush,  and  vows  of  love  regard  ; 
What  other  lass  will  trow  a  manswom  herd  ? 
The  curse  of  heaven  hings  ay  aboon  their  beads. 
That 's  ever  guilty  of  sic  sinfu*  deeds. 


I  '11  ne'er  advise  my  niece  sae  gray  a  gate  ; 
Nor  will  she  be  advised,  fou  well  I  wat. 


Sao  gray  a  gate  !  mansworn  !  and  a'  the  rest !  — 
Ye  lied,  auld  roudes  ;  and  in  faith  had  best 
Etit  in  your  words,  else  I  shall  gar  you  stand. 
With  a  hct  face,  afore  the  haly  band  ! 

Yo'll  gar  me  stand  !  yo  shevelling-gabbit  brock. 
Speak  that  again,  and  trembling  dread  my  rock. 
And  ten  sharp  nails,  that  when  my  hands  are  in, 
Can  flyp  the  skin  o'  y'er  cheeks  out  o'er  your  chin, 

I  take  ye  witness,  Mause,  ye  heard  her  say 
That  I  'm  manswom  :  —  I  winna  let  it  gae  ! 

Ye  're  witness  too,  he  ca'd  me  bonny  names, 
And  should  be  served  as  his  good-breeding  claims. 
Ye  filthy  dog  ! 

[Flees  to  his  hair  like  a  fury. — A  stout  battle. — Maitse 
endeavors  to  redd  them.'] 

Let  gang  yonr  grips  !  —  Fye,  Madge  !  —  Howt, 
Bauldy,  leen  !  — 
I  widna  wish  this  tulzie  had  been  seen, 
'T  is  sae  daft  like  — 

\_Bauldy  gets  out  of  Madfft^s  clutches  with  a  bleeding 
nose.-\ 

'T  is  daftcr  like  to  tholo 
An  ether-cap  like  him  to  blaw  the  coal  \ 
It  sets  him  well,  with  vile  unscrapit  tungue. 
To  cast  up  whether  I  be  auld  or  young  ; 
They  're  aulder  yet  than  I  have  married  been. 
And,  or  they  died,  their  bairns'  bairns  have  seen. 


My  lugs,  my  nose,  and  noddle  finds  the  same. 

*  Auld  roudes  ! '  —  filthy  fuUow,  I  shall  auld  ye  ! 

Uowt,  no  !  —  Ye  'II  e'en  be  friends  with  honest 
Bauldy. 
Come,  come,  shake  hands ;  this  maun  nae  farder  gae ; 
Ye  man  forgi'e  'm.     1  see  the  lad  looks  wae. 


In  troth  now,  Mause,  I  have  at  Madge  nae  spite ; 
But  she  abusing  first,  was  a'  the  wyte 
Of  what  has  happened,  and  shou'd  therefore  crave 
My  pardon  first,  and  shall  acquittance  have. 

MADOE. 

I  crave  your  pardon,  gallows-facc  ! — Gae  greet. 
And  own  your  faut  to  her  that  ye  wad  cheat ; 


120 


KURAL  POETRY. 


Gae,  or  be  blasted  in  your  health  and  gear. 

Till  ye  learn  to  perform  as  well  as  swear  ! 

Vow  and  lowp  back  !  —  was  o'er  the  like  heard  tell  ? 

Swith  tak  him,  deil,  he's  o'er  lang  out  of  hell ! 

His  presence  be  about  us  !  —  Curst  were  he 
That  were  condemned  for  life  to  live  with  thee  ! 

IRuns  off.] 

(MADGE,  laughing.) 
I  think  I  've  towzled  his  harigalds  a  wee  ! 
He  'II  no  soon  grein  to  tell  his  love  to  me  ! 
He  *s  but  a  rascal  that  would  mint  to  serve 
A  lassie  sae,  he  does  but  ill  deserve  ! 


Ye  towin'd  him  tightly  ;  I  commend  ye  for 't ; 
His  bleeding  snout  gae  me  nae  little  sport ; 
For  this  forenoon  he  had  that  scant  of  grace, 
And  breeding  baith,  to  tell  me  to  my  face, 
He  hoped  I  was  a  witch,  and  wadna  stand 
To  lend  him  in  this  case  my  helping  hand. 


A  witch  !  how  had  ye  patience  this  to  bear, 
And  leave  him  een  to  see,  or  lugs  to  hear? 


Auld  withered  hands  and  feeble  joints,  like  mine 
Obliges  fowk  resentment  to  decline  ; 
Till  aft 't  is  seen,  when  vigor  fails,  that  we 
With  cunning  can  the  lack  of  pith  supply. 
Thus  I  pat  aff  revenge  till  it  was  dark. 
Syne  bade  him  come,  and  we  should  gang  to  wark  ; 
I'm  sure  he'll  keep  his  tryst ;  and  I  came  here 
To  seek  your  help  that  we  the  fool  may  fear. 

And  special  sport  we  '11  liae,  as  I  protest ! 
Ye  'U  be  the  witch,  and  I  shall  play  the  ghaist. 
A  linen  sheet  wound  round  me  like  ane  dead, 
I  'It  cawk  my  face,  and  grane,  and  shake  my  head  ; 
We  '11  fleg  him  sae,  he  '11  mint  nae  mair  to  gang 
A  conjuring  to  do  a  lassie  wrang. 


let  I 


The  westlin  cloud  shii 


hard  on  night, 
I  setting  light. 


Wow!  but  I  'm  cadgie,  and  my  heart  lowps  light ! 
0,  Mr.  Patrick,  ay  your  thoughts  were  right ! 
Sure  gentle  fowk  are  farther  seen  than  we. 
That  naething  hae  to  brag  of  pedigree. 


My  Jenny,  now,  who  brak  my  heart  this  morn, 
Is  perfect  yielding,  sweet,  and  nae  mair  scorn. 
I  spak  my  mind,  —  she  heard  ;  I  spak  again, — 
She  smiled;  I  kissed, —  I  wooed, —  nor  wooed  in  yain. 

I  'm  glad  to  hear 't :  but  0  !  my  change  this  day 
Heaves  up  my  joy  !  —  And  yet  I  'm  sometimes  wae. 
I  've  found  a  father,  gently  kind  as  brave, 
And  an  estate  that  lifts  me  'boon  the  lave  ; 
With  looks  all  kindness,  words  that  love  confest, 
He  all  the  father  to  my  soul  expressed. 
While  close  he  held  me  to  his  manly  breast : 
'  Such  were  the  eyes,'  he  said,  *  thus  smiled  the  mouth 
Of  thy  loved  mother,  blessing  o'  my  youth, 
Wha  set  too  soon  !'  —  Andwhilehe  praise  bestowed 
Adown  his  gracefu'  cheeks  a  torrent  flowed. 
My  new-born  joys,  and  this  his  tender  tale. 
Did,  mingled  thus,  o'er  a'  my  thoughts  prevail  ; 
That,  speechless,  lang  my  late-ken'd  sire  I  viewed, 
While  gushing  tears  my  panting  breast  bedewed  : 
Unusual  transports  made  my  head  turn  round, 
Whilst  I  myself  with  rising  raptures  found 
The  happy  son  of  ane  sae  much  renowned. 
But  he  has  heard  !     Too  faithful  Symon's  fear 
Has  brought  my  love  for  Peggy  to  his  ear  ; 
Which  he  forbids  :  —  ah  !  this  confounds  my  peace. 
While  thus  to  beat  my  heart  must  sooner  cease. 

How  to  advise  ye,  troth  I  'm  at  a  stand  ; 
But  were 't  my  case,  ye  'd  clear  it  up  aff  hand. 

Duty,  and  haflen  reason,  plead  his  cause  ; 
But  love  rebels  against  all  bounding  laws  ; 
Fixt  in  my  soul  the  shepherdess  excels,' 
And  part  of  my  new  happiness  repels. 

SANG   XVI. 
TcNE.  — '  A'ir*  wad  lei  me  be.' 
Duty  and  part  of  reason 

Plead  strong  on  the  parent's  side  ; 
Which  love  so  superior  calls  treason  ;  — 
The  strongest  must  be  obeyed. 

For  now,  tho'  I  'm  one  of  the  gentry. 
My  constancy  falsehood  repels  ; 

For  change  in  my  heart  has  no  entry  ; 
Still  there  my  dear  Peggy  excels. 

Enjoy  them  baith  :  —  Sir  William  will  be  won. 
Your  Peggy  's  bonny  :  — you  're  his  only  son. 


She 's  mine  by  vows,  and  stronger  ties  of  love  ; 
And  frae  these  bands  nae  fate  my  mind  shall  mov( 
I  '11  wed  nane  else,  thro'  life  I  will  be  true  ; 
But  still  obedience  is  a  parent's  due. 


'  But  t 


s  love  for  reason,  rules,  and  laws  ? 
rt  my  shepherdess  excels.' 

Edition  of  1808. 


Is  not  our  master  and  yourscll  to  stay 
Amang  us  here  ?     Or  are  yo  gawn  away 
To  London  court,  or  ithcr  far-aff  parts, 
To  Icavo  your  ain  poor  us  with  broken  hearts  ? 

PATIK. 

To  Edinburgh  straight  to-morrow  wo  advance, 
To  London  noist,  and  afterwards  to  France, 
Where  I  must  stay  some  years,  and  learn  to  dance, 
And  twa  three  other  monltey-tricks  ;  that  done, 
I  come  hame  strutting  in  ray  rcd-heeled  shoon. 
Then  't  is  designed,  when  I  can  well  behave. 
That  I  maun  be  some  petted  thing's  dull  slave, 
For  some  few  bags  of  cash,  that  I  wat  wcel, 
1  nae  mair  need  nor  carts  do  a  third  wheel. 
But  Peggy,  dearer  to  mo  than  my  breath. 
Sooner  than  hear  sic  news  shall  hear  my  death. 

*  They  wha  have  just  enough  can  soundly  sleep. 
The  owrccome  only  fashes  fowk  to  keep  : '  — 
Good  master  Patrick,  take  your  ain  tale  hame. 

\Vhat  was  my  morning  thought,  at  night's  the 
The  poor  and  rich  but  diBfer  in  the  name.       [same; 
Content 's  the  greatest  bliss  we  can  procure 
Frae  'boon  the  lift ;  without  it  kings  are  poor. 

But  an  estate  like  yours  yields  braw  content. 
When  we  but  pick  it  scantly  on  the  bent : 
Fine  claiths,  saft  beds,  sweet  houses,  sparkling  wine. 
Good  cheer,  and  witty  friends,  whene'er  ye  dine, 
Obeisant  servants,  honor,  wealth,  and  ease  ; 
Wha 's  no  content  with  these  are  ill  to  please  ! 

PiTIE. 

Sae  Roger  thinks,  and  thinks  not  far  amiss. 
But  mony  a  cloud  hings  hovering  o'er  their  bliss  : 
The  passions  rule  the  roast ;  and  if  they  're  sour. 
Like  the  lean  kye,  they  'U  soon  the  fat  devour. 
The  spleen,  tint  honor,  and  affronted  pride. 
Sting  like  the  sharpest  goads  in  gentry's  side  ; 
The  gouts,  and  gravels,  and  the  ill  disease. 
Are  frequentest  with  fowk  owrelaid  with  ease  ; 
While  o'er  the  moor  the  shepherd,  with  less  care. 
Enjoys  his  sober  wish,  and  halesomc  air. 

Lord,  man,  I  wonder,  ay,  and  it  delights 
My  heart  whene'er  I  hearken  to  your  flights  ! 
How  gat  ye  a'  that  sense  I  fain  wad  lear. 
That  I  may  easier  disappointments  bear  ? 

Frae  books,  the  wale  of  books,  I  gat  some  skill  ; 
These  best  can  teach  what 's  real  good  and  ill. 
Ne'er  grudge  ilk  year  to  wear  some  stanes  of  cheese, 
To  gain  these  silent  friends  that  ever  please. 


I'll( 


t,  and  ye  shall  tell  me  which  to  buy  ; 
I  hao  books,  tho'  I  shou'd  sell  my  kye  ! 


But  now  let's  hear  how  yo 

Between  Sir  William's  will  and  Peggy's  love? 

Then  here  it  lies  —  His  will  maun  be  obeyed  ; 
My  vows  I  'It  keep,  and  she  shall  be  my  bride  ; 
But  I  some  time  this  last  design  maun  hide. 
Keep  you  the  secret  close,  and  leave  me  here  ; 
I  sent  for  Peggy,  —  yonder  comes  my  dear. 

Pleased  that  ye  trust  me  with  the  secret,  I 
To  wylo  it  frae  me  a'  the  deils  defy.  [£ii(.] 

PATIE   fOlu). 

With  what  a  struggle  must  I  now  impart 
My  father's  will  to  her  that  bauds  my  heart ! 
I  ken  she  loves  ;  and  her  saft  soul  will  sink, 
While  it  stands  trembling  on  tho  hated  brink 
Of  disappointment.  Heav'n  support  my  fair, 
And  let  her  comfort  claim  your  tender  care  !  — 
Her  eyes  are  red  !  — 

Enlcr  PKGOr. 
—  My  Peggy,  why  in  tears  ? 
Smile  as  ye  wont,  allow  nae  room  for  fears  ; 
Tho'  I  'm  nae  mair  a  shepherd,  yet  I  'm  thine  ! 

I  dare  not  think  so  high  !  I  now  repine 
At  the  unhappy  chance  that  made  not  mo 
A  gentle  match,  or  still  a  herd  kept  thee. 
Wha  can  withoutcn  pain  see  frae  the  coast 
The  ship  that  bears  his  all  like  to  be  lost ; 
Like  to  bo  carried  by  some  reiver's  hand 
Far  frae  his  wishes  to  some  distant  land  ? 

Ne'er  quarrel  fate,  whilst  it  with  me  remains 
To  raise  thee  up,  or  still  attend  these  plains. 
My  father  has  forbid  our  loves,  I  own  ; 
But  love 's  superior  to  a  parent's  frown. 
I  falsehood  hate  ;  come,  kiss  thy  cares  away  ; 
I  ken  to  love  as  well  as  to  obey. 
Sir  William  's  generous  :  leave  the  task  to  me 
To  make  strict  duty  and  true  love  agree. 

Speak  on,  speak  ever  thus,  and  still  my  grief ; 
But  short  I  dare  to  hope  the  fond  relief ! 
New  thoughts  a  gentler  face  will  soon  inspire, 
That  with  nice  airs  swims  round  in  silk  attire  : 
Then  I,  poor  me  !  with  sighs  may  ban  my  fate. 
When  the  young  laird 's  nae  mair  my  hcartsome  Pate. 
Nae  mair  again  to  hear  sweet  tales  expressed 
By  the  blyth  shepherd  that  excelled  tho  rest ; 
Nae  mair  be  envied  by  the  tattling  gang, 
When  Patie  kissed  me,  when  I  danced  or  sang  ; 
Nae  mair,  alake  !  we  '11  on  the  meadow  play. 
And  rin  half  breathless  round  the  rucks  of  hay. 
As  aft-times  I  have  fled  from  thee  right  fain. 
And  fawn  on  purpose  that  I  might  bo  tane  ; 
Nae  mair  around  the  foggy  knowe  I  '11  creep. 
To  watch  and  stare  upon  thee  while  asleep. 


RURAL    POETRY. RAMSAY. 


But  hear  my  vow,  — 't  will  help  to  give  me 
May  sudden  death,  or  deadly  sair  disease, 
And  warst  of  ills  attend  my  wretched  life. 
If  e'er  to  ane  but  you  I  be  a  wife  ! 


SANG  xvn. 


ToSE.  - 


'  JVae ': 


we  should  sund 


Speak  on,  speak  thus,  and  still  my  grief. 
Hold  up  a  heart  that's  sinking  under 

These  fears,  that  soon  will  want  relief. 
When  Pate  must  from  his  Peggy  sunder. 

A  gentler  face  and  silk  attire, 
'  A  lady  rich  in  beauty's  blossom, 

Alake,  poor  me  !  will  now  conspire 
To  steal  thee  from  thy  Peggy's  bosom. 

No  more  the  shepherd  who  excelled 

The  rest,  whose  wit  made  them  to  wonder, 
Shall  now  his  Peggy's  praises  tell  :  — 

Ah  !  I  can  die,  but  never  sunder  ! 
Ye  meadows  where  we  often  strayed, 

Ye  banks  where  we  were  wont  to  wander. 
Sweet-scented  rucks  round  which  we  played. 

You  'U  lose  your  sweets  when  we  're  asimder. 

Again,  ah  !  shall  I  never  creep 

Around  the  knowe  with  silent  duty, 
Eindly  to  watch  thee  while  asleep. 

And  wonder  at  thy  manly  beauty  ? 
Hear,  heav'n,  while  solemnly  I  vow, 

Tho'  thou  shouldst  prove  a  wand'ring  lover. 
Thro'  life  to  thee  I  shall  prove  true, 

Nor  be  a  wife  to  any  other. 


Sure  heaven  approves  ;  and  be  assured  of  me, 
I  '11  ne'er  gang  back  of  what  I  've  sworn  to  thee 
And  time,  —  tho'  time  maun  interpose  a  while, 
And  I  maun  leave  my  Peggy  and  this  isle,  — 
Yet  time,  nor  distance,  nor  the  fairest  face,  — 
If  there's  a  fairer,  — e'er  shall  fill  thy  place. 
I  'd  hate  my  rising  fortune,  should  it  move 
The  fair  foundation  of  our  faithfu'  love. 
If  at  my  feet  were  crowns  at)d  sceptres  laid. 
To  bribe  my  soul  frae  thee,  delightful  maid. 
For  thee  I  'd  soon  leave  these  inferior  things 
To  sic  as  have  the  patience  to  be  kings.  — 
Wherefore  that  tear  ?  —  Believe,  and  calm  thy  mi 


I  greet  for  joy  to  hear  thy  words  sae  kind. 
When  hopes  were  sunk,  and  naught  but  mirk  despaii 
Made  me  think  life  was  little  worth  my  care, 
My  heart  was  like  to  burst ;  but  now  I  see 
Thy  gen'rous  thoughts  will  save  thy  love  for  me. 
With  patience  then  I  '11  wait  each  wheeling  year. 
Dream  thro'  that  night,  till  my  day-star  appear  ;' 


And  all  the  while  I'll  study  gentler  charms. 
To  make  me  fitter  for  my  trav'ler's  arms  ; 
I  '11  gain  on  uncle  Gland  ;  he  's  far  frae  fool, 
And  will  not  grud'ge  to  put  me  through  ilk  school. 
Where  I  may  manners  learn. 


When  hope  was  quite  sunk  in  despair. 

My  heart  it  was  going  to  break  ; 
My  life  appeared  worthless  my  care. 

But  now  I  will  save  't  for  thy  sake. 
Where'er  my  love  travels  by  day, 

Wherever  he  lodges  by  night. 
With  me  his  dear  image  shall  stay. 

And  my  soul  keep  him  ever  in  sight. 

With  patience  I  'U  wait  the  long  year. 

And  study  the  gentlest  charms  ; 
Hope  time  away  till  thou  appear. 

To  lock  thee  for  ay  in  those  arms. 
Whilst  thou  wast  a  shepherd,  I  prized 

No  higher  degree  in  this  life  ; 
But  now  I  '11  endeavor  to  rise 

To  a  height  is  becoming  thy  wife. 

For  beauty,  that's  only  skin  deep, 

Must  fade  like  the  gowans  of  May  ; 
But  inwardly  rooted,  will  keep 

Forever,  without  a  decay. 
Nor  age,  nor  the  changes  of  life. 

Can  quench  the  fair  fire  of  love. 
If  virtue  's  ingrained  in  the  wife. 

And  the  husband  have  sense  to  approve. 


That 's  wisely  said  ; 

And  what  he  wares  that  way  shall  be  well  paid. 

Tho'  without  a'  the  little  helps  of  art. 

Thy  native  sweets  might  gain  a  prince's  heart ; 

Yet  now,  lest  in  our  station  we  offend. 

We  must  learn  modes  to  innocence  unken'd  ; 

Affect  aft-times  to  like  the  thing  we  hate, 

And  drap  serenity,  to  keep  up  state  ;  [say, 

Laugh  when  we  're  sad,  speak  when  we  've  naught  to 

And  for  the  fashion,  when  we  're  blyth,  seem  wae  ; 

Pay  compliments  to  them  we  aft  have  scorned. 

Then  scandalize  them  when  their  backs  are  turned. 


If  this  is  gentry,  I  had  rather  be 
What  I  am  still.  —  But  I  '11  be  aught  with  thee. 


No  !  no  !  my  Peggy  ;  I  but  only  jest 
With  gentry's  apes  ;  for  still,  amangst  the  best, 
Good  manners  give  integrity  a  bleeze, 
When  native  virtues  join  the  arts  to  please. 

PEGGY. 

Since  with  nae  hazard,  and  sae  small  expense. 
My  lad  frae  books  can  gather  sicoan  sense. 


123 


Then  why,  ah  !  why  should  the  tempcstaouB  sea 
Endnngcr  thy  dear  life,  and  frighten  mo  ? 
Sir  William's  cruel,  that  ivad  force  his  son, 
For  watna-whats,  sao  great  a  risk  to  run. 


There  is  nao  doubt  but  travelling  docs  improve  ; 
Yet  I  would  shun  it  for  thy  sake,  my  love. 
But  soon  as  I  'vo  shook  aff  my  landwart  cast 
In  foreign  cities,  hamo  to  thee  I'll  haste. 


With  every  setting  day,  and  rising  morn, 
I  '11  kneel  to  heaven  and  ask  thy  safe  return. 
Under  that  tree,  and  on  the  Suckler  brae, 
AVhere  aft  we  wont,  when  bairns,  to  run  and  play  ; 
And  to  the  hizcl  shaw,  where  first  ye  vowed 
Ye  wad  be  mine,  and  I  as  citbly  trowed, 
I  '11  aften  gang,  and  tell  tbo  trees  and  flow'rs, 
With  joy,  that  they  '11  bear  witness  I  am  yours. 


SANQ   XIX. 
TrSB.  —  ^  Bush  aboon  Traquair.* 

At  setting  day  and  rising  mom, 

With  soul  that  still  shall  love  theo, 
1  '11  ask  of  heaven  thy  safe  return, 

With  all  that  can  improve  thee. 
I'll  visit  aft  the  birken  bush. 

Where  first  thou  kindly  told  me 
Sweet  tales  of  love,  and  hid  ray  blush, 

Whilst  ronnd  thou  didst  enfold  me. 

To  all  our  haunts  I  will  repair, 

By  greenwood  shaw  or  fountain  ; 
Or  where  the  summer-day  I  'd  share 

With  thee  upon  yon  mountain  : 
There  will  I  tell  the  trees  and  flow'rs, 

From  thoughts  unfeigned  and  tender 
By  vows  you're  mine,  by  love  is  yours 

A  heart  which  cannot  wander. 


My  dear,  allow  me,  from  thy  temples  fair; 
A  shining  ringlet  of  thy  flowing  hair. 
Which,  as  a  sample  of  each  lovely  charm, 
I  '11  aften  kiss,  and  wear  about  my  arm. 


Were  ilka  hair  that  appertains  to  me 
Worth  an  estate,  they  all  belong  to  thee. 
My  shears  are  ready,  take  what  you  demand. 
And  aught  what  love  with  virtue  may  < 


Nae  mair  we'll  ask  :  but  since  we've  little  time, 
To  ware 't  on  words,  wad  border  on  a  crime  ; 
Love's  safter  meaning  better  is  cxprcst. 
When  't  is  with  kisses  on  the  heart  imprest. 

[T^e^  embracCj  u-hiU  the  curtain  is  let  fioum.} 


See  how  poor  Bnuldy  stares  like  anc  posscst, 
And  ronrs  up  Syinon  frac  his  kindly  ri-nt : 
Bare-lcygfd,  with  niKlit-citj'*  and  uiit)Uttoned 
See  the  auld  man  comes  forward  to  the  sot. 


8YM0N   AND   BAULDr. 
8TM0S. 

WTiat  want  ye,  Bauldy,  at  this  early  hour, 
When  naturo  nods  bcncath'thc  drowsy  power?* 
Far  to  tho  north  the  scant  approaching  light 
Stands  equal  'twist  the  morning  and  the  night. 
What  gars  ye  shake,  and  glowr,  and  look  sae  wan  ? 
Your  teeth  they  chitler,  hair  like  bristles  Stan'. 

BAVLDY. 

0  len  me  soon  some  water,  milk,  or  ale  ! 
My  head  'a  grown  giddy !  —  legs  with  shaking  fail !  — 
I  '11  ne'er  dare  venture  forth  at  night  my  lane. 
Alake  !  I'll  never  be  mysell  again  ; 
I  '11  ne'er  o'erput  it !  —  .Symon  !  O,  Sy mon  !  0  >. 

[Si/mon  yivcs  hint  a  drink.1 

SYMO.N. 

What  ails  theo,  gowk,  to  make  so  loiid  ado?  — 
You've  waked  Sir  William,  he  has  left  his  bed  ; 
lie  comes,  I  fear  ill  pleased  ;  I  hear  his  tread. 

Enter  sin  willlau. 

SIR  WILLMM. 

How  goes  the  night  ?  does  daylight  yet  appear  ? 
Symon,  you're  very  timeously  asteer. 

I'm  sorry,  sir,  that  we've  disturbed  your  rest ; 
But  some  strange  thing  has  Bauldy's  sp'rit  opprest. 
He 's  seen  some  witch,  or  wrestled  with  a  ghaist. 

BADLDT. 

0  !  ay  ;  dear  sir,  in  troth,  't  is  very  true  ; 
And  I  am  come  to  make  my  plaint  to  you. 

1  lang  to  hear  't. 

HilLDV. 

Ah  !  sir,  tho  witch  ca'd  Manse, 
That  wins  aboon  tho  mill  amang  the  haws, 
First  promised  that  she  'd  help  me  with  her  art, 
To  gain  a  bonny,  thrnwart  lassie's  heart. 
As  she  had  trysted,  I  mot  wi'cr  this  night ; 
But  may  nae  friend  of  mine  get  sic  a  fright ! 
For  the  curst  hag,  instead  of  doing  me  good,  — 
The  very  thought  o't  's  like  to  freeze  my  blood  !  — 
Raised  up  a  ghaist,  or  dcil,  I  kenna  whilk. 
Like  a  dead  corse  in  sheet  as  white  as  milk  ; 
Black  hands  it  had,  and  face  as  wan  as  death. 
Upon  me  fast  the  witcli  and  it  fell  baith. 
And  gat  me  down,  while  I,  like  a  great  fool. 
Was  labored  as  I  wont  to  be  at  school. 


124 


RURAL    POETRY. 


My  heart  out  of  its  hool  was  like  to  loup  ; 
I  pithless  grew  with  fear,  and  had  nao  hope  ; 
Till,  with  an  elritch  laugh,  they  vanished  quite. 
Syne  I  half  dead  with  anger,  fear,  and  spite. 
Crap  up,  and  fled  straight  frae  them,  sir,  to  you, 
Hoping  your  help  to  gie  the  deil  his  due. 
I  *m  sure  my  heart  will  ne'er  gie  o'er  to  dunt, 
Till  in  a  fat  tar-barrel  Mause  he  burnt ! 

SIR  WILLIAM. 

Well,  Bauldy,  whate'er's  just  shall  granted  be  ; 
Let  Mause  be  brought  this  morning  down  to  me. 

Thanks  to  your  honor  !  soon  shall  I  obey  ; 
But  first  I  '11  Roger  raise,  and  twa  three  mae. 
To  catch  her  fast,  or  she  get  leave  to  squeel. 
And  cast  her  cautraips  that  bring  up  the  deil. 

[ExU  Bauldy.] 


Troth,  Symon,  Bauldy 's  more  afraid  than  hurt  ; 
The  witch  and  ghaist  have  made  themselves  good 

What  silly  notions  crowd  the  clouded  mind, 
That  is  through  want  of  education  blind  ! 


But  docs  your  honor  think  there  s  nae  sic  tbi 
As  witches  raising  deils  up  through  a  ring? 
Syne  playing  tricks,  —  a  thousand  I  cou'd  tell, - 
Cou'd  never  be  contrived  on  this  side  hell. 


Such  as  the  devil 's  dancing  in  a  moor, 
Amongst  a  few  old  women  craz'd  and  poor. 
Who  were  rejoiced  to  see  him  frisk  and  lowp 
O'er  braes  and  bogs  with  candles  in  his  dowp  ; 
Appearing  sometimes  like  a  black-horned  cow, 
Aft-times  like  Bawty,  Badrans,  or  a  sow  ; 
Then  with  his  train  through  airy  paths  to  glide. 
While  they  on  cats,  or  clowns,  or  broomstaffs,  ride ; 
Or  in  an  egg-shell  skim  out  o'er  the  main, 
To  drink  their  leader's  health  in  France  or  Spain  : 
Then  aft  by  night  bumbaze  hare-hearted  fools, 
By  tumbling  down   their   cupboards,  chairs,  and 

Whate'er  's  in  spells,  or  if  there  witches  be, 
Such  whimsies  seem  the  most  absurd  to  me. 

'T  is  true  enough,  we  ne'er  heard  that  a  witch 
Had  either  mcikle  sense  or  yet  was  rich. 
But  Mause,  tho'  poor,  is  a  sagacious  wife. 
And  lives  a  quiet  and  very  honest  life  ; 
That  gars  me  think  this  hoblcshcw  that's  past 
Will  end  in  naetbing  but  a  joke  at  last. 


I  'm  sure  it  will !  —  But  see,  increasing  light 
Commands  the  imps  of  darkness  down  to  night. 
Bid  raise  my  servants,  and  my  horse  prepare, 
Whilst  1  walk  out  to  take  the  morning  air. 


Tone. —  *  Bonny  gray-eyed  mom  J 
The  bonny  gray-eyed  morn  begins  to  peep. 

And  darkness  flies  before  the  rising  ray  ; 
The  hearty  hynd  starts  from  his  lazy  sleep, 

To  follow  healthfu'  labors  of  the  day  ; 
Without  a  guilty  sting  to  wrinkle  his  brow, 

The  lark  and  the  linnet  'tend  his  levee  ; 
And  he  joins  the  concert,  driving  his  plough, 

From  toil  of  grimace  and  pageantry  free. 

While  flustered  with  wine,  or  maddened  with  loss 

Of  half  an  estate,  the  prey  of  a  main, 
The  drunkard  and  gamester  tumble  and  toss. 

Wishing  for  calmness  and  slumber  in  vain. 
Be  my  portion  health  and  quietness  of  mind. 

Placed  at  due  distance  from  parties  and  state; 
Where  neither  ambition,  nor  avarice  blind, 

Reach  him  who  has  happiness  linked  to  his  fate. 
[Exeunt. "] 

SCENE    II. 


While  Peggy  laces  up  her  bosom  fair, 
With  a  blue  snood  Jenny  binds  up  her  hair  ; 
Giaud  by  his  morning  ingle  takes  a  beek  ; 
The  rising  sun  shines  raotty  through  the  reek  ", 
A  pipe  bis  mouth,  the  lasses  please  his  een. 
And  now  and  then  his  joke  maun  interveen. 


GLAUD, 


AND   PEGGY-. 


I  wish,  my  bairns,  it  may  keep  fair  till  night. 
Ye  do  not  use  so  soon  to  see  the  light. 
Nae  doubt  now  ye  intend  to  mix  the  thrang. 
To  take  your  leave  of  Patrick  or  he  gang  ; 
But  do  you  think  that  now,  when  he 's  a  laird. 
That  he  poor  landwart  lasses  will  regard  ? 

Tho'  he 's  young  master  now,  I  'm  very  sure 
He  has  mair  sense  than  slight  auld  friends,  tho'  poor ; 
But  yesterday  he  ga'e  us  mony  a  tug. 
And  kissed  my  cousin  there  frae  lug  to  lug. 

Ay,  ay,  nae  doubt  o't,  and  he  '11  do 't  again  ! 
But  he  advised,  his  company  refrain. 
Before,  he  as  a  shepherd  sought  a  wife, 
With  her  to  live  a  chaste  and  frugal  life  ; 
But  now  grown  gentle,  soon  he  will  forsake 
Sic  godly  thoughts,  /and  brag  of  being  a  rake. 

A  rake  !  what 's  that  ?  —  Sure,  if  it  means  aught 
Ho  '11  never  he 't,  else  I  have  tint  my  skill.         [ill, 

Daft  lassie,  you  ken  naught  of  the  affair  ; 
Ane  young,  and  good,  and  gentle 's  unco  rare. 
A  rake  's  a  graceless  spark,  that  thinks  nae  shame 
To  do  what  like  of  us  thinks  sin  to  name. 
Sic  are  sac  void  of  shame,  they  '11  never  stap 
To  brag  how  aften  they  have  had  the  [ — ]  ; 


SPRINa  —  MAT. 


125 


They  'II  tempt  young  thiogs  liko  you  with  youdith 

flushed, 
Syne  mak  yo  a'  their  jest  when  you  'ro  debauched. 
Be  wary,  then,  I  say,  and  never  gi'e 
Eucuuragemcnt,  or  board  with  sic  a3  ho. 

Sir  William's  virtuou-i,  and  of  gentle  blood  ; 
And  may  uot  Patrick  too,  like  him,  bo  good  ? 


That 's  true  !     And  mony  gentry  mac  than  he, 
As  they  are  wiser,  better  are  than  wo  ; 
But  thinner  sawn  ;   tbey  'ru  sac  pufl  up  with  pride. 
There  's  mouy  of  them  mocks  ilk  haly  guide 
That  shaws  the  gate  to  heav'n.     I  've  heard  myaell 
Some  of  them  laugh  at  doomsday,  sin,  and  hell. 

Watch  o'er  us.  Father  !  —  Ueh,  that 's  very  odd  ; 
Sure  him  that  doubts  a  doomsday  doubts  a  Ood. 


Doubt !  why  they  neither  doubt,  nor  judge,  nor 
think. 
Nor  hope,  nor  fear ;  but  curse,  debauch,  and  drink. 
But  I  'm  no  saying  this,  as  if  I  thought 
That  Patrick  to  sic  gates  will  e'er  be  brought. 


The  Lord  forbid  !    Na,  he  kens  better  things. 
But  here  comes  aunt ;  her  face  some  ferly  brings. 


Haste  !  haste  ye!  We  're  a'  sent  for  owro  the  gate, 
To  hear,  and  help  to  redd  some  odd  debate  [spell, 
'Tween  Mauso  and  Bauldy,  'bout  some  witchcraft 
At  Symon's  house.     The  knight  sits  judge  himsell. 


Lend  me  my  staff.     Madge,  lock  the  outer  door  ; 
And  bring  the  lasses  wi'  ye  ;   I  '11  step  before. 

[ExU  Glaud.] 

Poor  Meg  1  —  Look,  .Jenny,  was  the  like  e'er  seen  ? 
How  bleered  and  red  with  greeting  look  her  een  ! 
This  day  her  brankan  wooer  taks  his  horse. 
To  strut  a  gentle  spark  at  Edinburgh  cross  : 
To  change  his  kent  cut  frae  the  branchy  plane, 
For  a  nice  sword,  and  glancing  headed  cane  ; 
To  leave  his  ram-horn  spoons,  and  kitted  whey, 
For  gentler  tea  that  smells  liko  flSw-won  hay  j 
To  leave  the  green-sward  dance,  when  we  gac  milk, 
To  rustle  amang  the  beauties  clad  in  silk. 
But  Meg,  poor  Meg!  maun  with  the  shepherds  stay. 
And  tak  what  God  will  send,  in  hodden  gray. 


Dear  aunt,  what  needs  ye  fash  us  wi'  your  scorn  ? 
That 's  no  my  faut  that  I  'm  nae  gentler  born. 
Gif  I  the  daughter  of  some  laird  had  been, 
I  ne'er  had  noticed  Patie  on  the  green  ; 


Now,  since  he  rises,  why  should  I  repine  7 
If  ho 's  made  for  another,  he  'II  ne'er  bo  mine  ; 
And  then,  —  the  like  has  been,  —  if  the  decree 
Designs  him  mine,  I  yet  his  wife  may  bo. 


A  bonny  story,  troth  !     But  wo  delay  ; 
Prin  up  your  aprons  baith,  and  come  away. 

lExtunt.] 

SCENE    III. 


Sir  William  an. _ 

yrtMe  %nion,  Boner,  Olaud,  and  Manse, 
Attend,  and  with  loud  laughter  hear 

Daft  Bauldy  bluntly  plead  his  cause  :  — 

Was  handled  by  revengefu'  Madge, 
Because  he  brak  good  breeding's  laws, 
And  with  his  nonsense  raised  their  rage. 

SIR  WILLIAM,  PATIE,  ROOER,  SVMON,  GLAUD,  BAUU>r, 


And  was  that  all  ?  —  Well,  Bauldy,  ye  was  served 
No  Otherwise  than  what  ye  well  deserved. 
Was  it  so  small  a  matter  to  defame, 
And  thus  abuse  an  honest  woman's  name  ? 
Besides  your  going  about  to  have  betrayed, 
By  perjury,  an  innocent  young  maid  ? 

Sir,  I  confess  my  faut  thro'  a'  the  steps. 
And  ne'er  again  shall  bo  untrue  to  Neps. 

Thus  far,  sir,  he  obliged  me  on  the  score  ; 
I  ken'd  not  that  they  thought  mo  sic  before. 

BICLDY. 

An't  like  your  honor,  I  believed  it  well  ; 
But  troth  I  was  e'en  doilt  to  seek  the  deil. 
Yet,  with  your  honor's  leave,  tho'  she  's  nae  witch, 

She 's  baith  a  slee  and  a  revengcfu' ; 

And  that  my  some  place  finds.     But  I  had  best 
Hand  in  my  tongue,  for  yonder  comes  the  ghaist. 
And  the  young  bonny  witch  whase  rosie  cheek 
Sent  me  without  my  wit  the  dcil  to  seek. 

ENTER   MADGE,    PEOGY,    AND   JEN.NY. 

SIR  WILLIAM  {looking  at  Petjijy). 
Whose  daughter 's  she  that  wears  th'  Aurora  gown. 
With  face  so  fair,  and  looks  a  lovely  brown  ? 
How  siMirkling  are  her  eyes  !  —  What's  this  I  find? 
The  girl  brings  all  my  sister  to  my  mind. 
Such  were  the  features  once  adorned  a  face. 
Which  death  too  soon  deprived  of  sweetest  grace. 
Is  this  your  daughter,  Glaud  ?  — 
CLArn. 

Sir,  she 's  my  niece.  — 

And  yet  she 's  not :  —  but  I  should  hald  my  peace. 

SIB  WILLIAM. 

This  is  a  contradiction  !  what  d'  ye  mean  ?  — 
She  is,  and  she  is  not !  —  pray,  Glaud,  explain. 


126 


RURAL    POETRY. 


Because  I  doubt  if  I  should  make  appear 
What  I  hare  kept  a  secret  thirteen  year. 


You  may  reveal  what  I  can  fully  clear. 

SIR  WILLIAM. 

Speak  soon  ;  I'm  all  impatience  !  — 


Fori 


—  So  am  I  ; 
;  hope  ;  and  hardly  yet  know  why. 


Then,  since  my  master  orders,  I  obey. 
This  bonny  foundling,  ae  clear  morn  of  May, 
Close  by  the  lee-side  of  my  door  I  found. 
All  sweet  and  clean,  and  carefully  hapt  round 
In  infant-weeds  of  rich  and  gentle  make. 
What  could  they  be  —  thought  I  —  did  thee  forsake  ? 
Wha,  warse  than  brutes,  cou'd  leave  exposed  to  air 
Sae  much  of  innocence,  sae  sweetly  fair, 
Sae  helpless  young  ?  —  For  she  appeared  to  me 
Only  about  twa  towmonds  auld  to  be. 
I  took  her  in  my  arms,  —  the  bairnie  smiled 
With  sic  a  look  wad  made  a  savage  mild. 
I  hid  the  story,  and  she  passed  sincesyne 
As  a  poor  orphan,  and  a  niece  of  mine. 
Nor  do  I  rue  my  care  about  the  wean, 
For  she 's  well  worth  the  pains  that  I  have  tane. 
Ye  see  she 's  bonny  ;   I  can  swear  she 's  good. 
And  am  right  sure  she 's  come  of  gentle  blood  ;  — 
Of  whom  I  kenna  ;  —  naithing  ken  I  mair, 
Than  what  I  to  your  honor  now  declare. 

This  tale  seems  strange  !  — 

—  The  tale  delights  my  ear. 


Con 


1  your  joys,  young  man,  till  truth  appear. 


That  be  my  task  !  —  Now,  sir,  bid  all  be  hush  ; 
Peggy  may  smile,  thou  hast  no  cause  to  blush. 
Lang  have  I  wished  to  see  this  happy  day. 
That  I  might  safely  to  the  truth  give  way  ; 
That  I  may  now  Sir  William  Worthy  name 
The  best  and  nearest  friend  that  she  can  claim. 
He  saw 't  at  first,  and  with  quick  eye  did  trace 
His  sister's  beauties  in  her  daughter's  face. 

SIR  WILLIiM. 

Old  woman,  do  not  rave  !  prove  what  you  say  ; 
'T  is  dangerous  in  affairs  like  this  to  play. 

What  reason,  sir,  can  an  old  woman  have 
To  toll  a  lie,  when  she 's  sae  near  her  grave  ? 
But  how  or  why  it  should  be  truth,  I  grant, 
I  everything  looks  like  a  reason  want.   ^ 

The  story's  odd  !  — We  wish  we  heard  it  out. 


Make  haste,  good  i 


and  resolve  each  doubt. 


MACSE  (i/oes  foru'ard,  leading  Pegrjy  to  Sir  William). 
Sir,  view  me  well !  —  Has  fifteen  years  so  plew'd 
A  wrinkled  face  that  you  have  often  viewed. 
That  here  I  as  an  unknown  stranger  stand. 
Who  nursed  her  mother  that  now  holds  my  hand  ? 
Yet  stronger  proofs  I  '11  give,  if  you  demand. 

Ha,  honest  nurse  !  —Where  were  my  eyes  before  ? 
I  know  thy  faithfulness,  and  need  no  more  ; 
Yet  from  the  lab'rinth  to  lead  out  my  mind, 
Say,  to  expose  her  who  was  so  unkind  ? 
[Sir  William  embraces  Peggy,  and  makes  her  sit  by 

Urn.] 
Yes,  surely  thou  'rt  my  niece  !  —  Truth  must  pre- 


But  I 


vords  till  Mause  relate  her  tale. 


Good  nurse,  dispatch  thy  story  winged  with  blisses. 
That  I  may  give  my  cousin  fifty  kisses. 

Then  it  was  I  that  saved  her  infant  life  ; 
Her  death  being  threatened  by  an  uncle's  wife. 
The  story's  lang  :  — but  I  the  secret  knew, 
How  they  pursued,  with  avaricious  view, 
Her  rich  estate,  of  which  they  're  now  possest. 
All  this  to  me  a  confidant  confest. 
I  heard  with  horror,  and  with  trembling  dread. 
They'd  smoor  the  sakeless  orphan  in  her  bed. 
That  very  night,  when  all  were  sunk  in  rest. 
At  midnight  hour  the  floor  I  saftly  prest. 
And  staw  the  sleeping  innocent  away. 
With  whom  I  travelled  some  few  miles  ere  day. 
All  day  I  hid  me  ;  —  when  the  day  was  done, 
I  kept  my  journey,  lighted  by  the  moon  ; 
Till  eastward  fifty  miles  I  reached  these  plains, 
Where  needful  plenty  glads  your  cheerful  swains. 
For  fear  of  being  found  out,  and  to  secure 
My  charge,  I  laid  her  at  this  shepherd's  door  ; 
And  took  a  neighboring  cottage  here,  that  I, 
Whate'er  should  happen  to  her,  might  be  by. 
Here  honest  Gland  himsel  and  Symon  may 
Remember  well,  how  I  that  very  day 
Frae  Roger's  father  took  my  little  erove. 

GLiUD  (with  tears  of  jog  running  down  his  beard). 
I  well  remember 't !  —  Lord  reward  your  love  !  — 
Lang  have  I  wished  for  this  ;  for  aft  I  thought 
Sic  knowledge  some  time  shou'd  about  be  brought. 

'T  is  now  a  crime  to  doubt !     My  joys  are  full. 
With  due  obedience  to  my  parent's  will. 
Sir,  with  paternal  love  survey  her  charms. 
And  blame  me  not  for  rushing  to  her  arms  ; 
She 's  mine  by  vows,  and  wou'd,  tho'  still  unknown. 
Have  been  my  wife,  when  I  my  vows  durst  own. 


SPEINa  —  MAY. 


127 


My  niece,  my  daughter,  welcome  to  my  oaro  ! 
Sweet  imago  of  thy  mother,  good  and  fair  ! 
Equal  with  Patrick  :  —  Now  my  greatest  aim 
Shall  bo  to  aid  your  joys,  and  well-matched  flamo. 
Jly  boy,  recoivo  her  from  your  father's  hand. 
With  as  good  will  as  cither  would  demand. 
IPade  and  Peggy  etnbracej  and  kneel  to  Sir  WiUiarn.] 


With  as  much  joy  this  blessing  I  receive. 
As  ane  wad  life  that's  sinking  in  a  wave. 
SIB  WILLIAM  (raises  them). 

I  give  you  both  my  blessing.  —  May  your  love 
[Voduco  a  happy  race,  and  still  improve  ! 


My  wishes  are  complete  !     My  joys  arise. 
While  I  'm  haf  dizzy  with  the  blest  surprise  ! 
And  am  I,  then,  a  match  for  my  ain  lad, 
That  for  me  so  much  generous  kindness  had  ? 
Lang  may  Sir  William  bless  these  happy  plains, 
Happy  while  Ileaven  grant  he  on  them  remains. 


Be  livng  our  piaidian,  still  our  master  be. 
We'll  only  crave  what  you  shall  please  to  gio  ; 
The  estate  bo  yours,  my  Peggy 's  ano  to  mo. 


will  take  amends 
ife  for  wicked  ends. 


The  base  unnatural  villain  soon  shall  know 
That  eyes  above  watch  the  affairs  below. 
I  'II  strip  him  soon  of  all  to  her  pertains. 
And  make  him  reimburse  his  ill-got  gains. 


To  mo  the  views  of  wealth  and  an  estate 
Seem  light,  when  put  in  balance  with  my  Pate  ; 
For  his  sake  only  I  '11  ay  thankful  bow 
For  suoh  a  kindness,  best  of  men,  to  you. 


What  double  blythness  wakens  up  this  day  !  — 
I  hope  now,  sir,  you  'II  no  soon  haste  away  : 
Shall  I  unsaddle  your  horse,  and  gar  prepare 
A  dinner  for  ye  of  halo  country  fare  ? 
See  how  much  joy  unwrinkles  every  brow  ! 
Our  looks  hing  on  the  twa,  and  doat  on  you  ; 
Even  Bauldy,  the  bewitched,  has  quite  forgot 
Fell  Madge's  tawso,  and  pawky  Mauso'a  plot. 


Kindly  old  man  !  —  Remain  with  you  this  day! 
I  never  from  these  fields  again  will  stray. 
Masons  and  wrights  shall  soon  my  house  repair, 
And  busy  gardeners  shall  new  planting  roar  ; 
My  father's  hearty  board  you  soon  shall  see 
Restored,  and  my  best  friends  rejoice  with  me. 


That 's  the  best  news  I  've  hoard  this  twenty  year! 
New  day  breaks  up,  rough  times  begin  to  clear  ! 

OLiUD. 

God  save  tho  king  !  and  save  Sir  William  lang. 
To  enjoy  their  ain,  and  raise  tho  shepherd's  sang  ! 

Wha  winna  danee,  wha  will  refuse  to  sing? 
What  shepherd's  whistle  winna  lilt  tho  spring  1 

BACLDT. 

I'm  friends  with  Mause  !    With  very  Madge  I'm 
gree'd  ; 
Although  they  skelpit  me  when  woodly  fleid  ! 
I  'ni  now  fu'  blyth,  and  frankly  can  forgive, 
To  join  and  sing,  '  Lang  may  Sir  William  live  !' 

Lang  may  ho  live  !  —  and,  Bauldy,  learn  to  stock 
Your  gab  a  wee,  and  think  before  ye  sjieak  ; 
And  never  ca'  her  auld  that  wants  a  man, 
Else  yc  may  yet  some  witoh's  fingers  ban. 
This  day  I'll  with  tho  youngest  of  you  rant, 
And  brag  for  ay  that  I  was  ca'd  the  aunt 
Of  our  young  lady,  my  dear  bonny  bairn  ! 

No  other  name  I  '11  ever  for  you  learn. 
And,  my  good  nurse,  how  shall  I  gratefu'  bo 
For  a'  thy  matchless  kindness  done  for  me  ? 


The  flowing  pie 
Does  fully  all  I  C8 


mre  of  this  happy  day 
require  repay. 


To  faithful  Symon,  and,  kind  Gland,  to  you 
And  to  your  heirs  I  give  in  endless  feu 
The  mailens  ye  possess,  as  justly  due, 
For  acting  like  kind  fathers  to  the  pair. 
Who  have  enough  besides,  and  these  can  spare. 
Mause,  in  my  house  in  calmness  close  your  days, 
With  naught  to  do  but  sing  your  Maker's  praise. 

The  Lord  of  heaven  return  your  honor's  love. 
Confirm  your  joys,  and  a'  your  blessings  roovo  ! 

PATiE  (presenting  Roger  to  Sir  IVilliam). 
Sir,  here's  my  trusty  friend,  that  always  shared 
My  bosom-secrets,  ore  I  was  a  laird. 
Glaud'sdaughtor  Janet— Jenny,  think  nao shame!  — 
Raised  and  maintains  in  him  a  lover's  flamo. 
Lang  was  he  dumb,  at  lost  he  spak  and  won. 
And  hopes  to  bo  our  honest  uncle's  son  ; 
Bo  pleased  to  speak  to  Glaud  for  his  consent, 
That  none  may  wear  a  face  of  discontent. 


My  son's  demand  is  fair  !  —  Glaud,  let  mo  cr( 
That  trusty  Kogor  may  your  daughter  have 
With  frank  consent,  and  while  ho  does  remain 
Upon  these  fields,  I  make  him  chamberlain. 


RURAL    POETRY. 


GLACD. 

You  crowd  your  bounties,  sir  !  — What  can  we  S£ 
But  that  we  're  dyvours  that  can  ne'er  repay  ?  — 
Whate'er  your  honor  wills  I  shall  obey. 
Roger,  my  daughter  with  my  blessing  take, 
And  still  our  master's  right  your  business  make  ; 
Please  him,  be  faithful,  and  this  auld  gray  head 
Shall  nod  with  quietness  down  among  the  dead. 


I  ne'er  was  good  at  speaking  a'  my  days, 
Or  ever  loo'd  to  make  o'er  great  a  frase  ; 
But  for  my  master,  father,  and  my  wife, 
I  will  employ  the  cares  of  all  my  life. 


My  friends,  I  'm  satisfied  you  'U  all  behave, 
Each  in  his  station,  as  I  'd  wish  or  crave. 
Be  ever  virtuous,  soon  or  late  ye  '11  find 
Reward  and  satisfaction  to  your  mind. 
The  maze  of  life  sometimes  looks  dark  and  wild, 
And  aft  when  hopes  are  highest  we  're  beguiled  ; 
Aft  when  we  stand  on  brinks  of  dark  despair. 
Some  happy  turn  with  joy  dispels  our  care. 
Now  all 's  at  rights,  who  sings  best  let  me  hear. 


When  you  demand,  I  readiest  should  obey  ; 
I  '11  sing  you  ane,  the  newest  that  I  hae. 


Tune.- 


'  Corn-riggs  are  bonny. ^ 


My  Paty  ie  a  lover  gay, 

His  mind  is  never  muddy, 
His  breath  is  sweeter  than  new  hay, 

His  face  is  fair  and  ruddy  ; 
His  shape  is  handsome,  middle  size  ; 

He  's  comely  in  his  wauking  ; 
The  shining  of  his  een  surprise  ; 

'T  is  heaven  to  hear  him  tauking. 

Last  night  I  met  him  on  a  bawk 

Where  yellow  corn  was  growing  ; 
There  mony  a  kindly  word  he  spak. 

That  set  my  heart  a  glowing. 
He  kissed,  and  vowed  he  wad  be  mine, 

And  loo'd  me  best  of  ony  ; 
That  gars  me  like  to  sing  sinsyne, 

0  oorn-riggs  are  bonny  ! 

Let  lasses  of  a  silly  mind 

Refuse  what  maist  they  're  wanting. 
Since  we  for  yielding  were  designed, 

AVe  chastely  should  be  granting  ; 
Then  I  '11  comply  and  marry  Pate, 

And  syne  my  oockernony 
He 's  free  to  touzle  air  and  late. 

Where  corn-riggs  are  bonny. 

[Exeunt  o 


Hiistir  l^iilMs,  etc.,  for  Slaii. 


GRAVES'S  "BALLAD  TO  THE   BIRDS." 

Again  the  balmy  zephyr  blows, 

Fresli  verdure  decks  the  grove, 
Each  bird  with  vernal  rapture  glows, 

And  tunes  his  note  to  love. 

To  gentle  warblers,  hither  fly, 

And  shun  the  noontide  heat  ; 
My  shrubs  a  cooling  .■ihade  supply, 

My  groves  a  safe  retreat. 

Here  freely  hop  from  spray  to  spray, 

Or  weave  the  mossy  nest ; 
Here  rove  and  sing  the  live-long  day  ; 

At  night  hero  sweetly  rest. 

Amidst  this  cool,  translucent  rill. 

That  trickles  down  the  glade. 
Here  bathe  your  plumes,  here  drink  your  fill, 

And  revel  in  the  shade. 

No  school-boy  rude,  to  mischief  prone, 

K'cr  shows  his  ruddy  face, 
Or  twangs  his  bow,  or  hurls  a  stone, 

In  this  sequestered  place. 

Hither  the  vocal  thrash  repairs. 

Secure  the  linnet  sings. 
The  goldfinch  dreads  no  flimsy  snares 

To  clog  her  painted  wings. 

Sad  Philomel  !  ah,  quit  thy  haunt, 

Yon  distant  woods  among. 
And  round  ray  friendly  grotto  chaunt 

Thy  sweetly-plaintive  song. 

Let  not  the  harmless  red-breast  fear. 

Domestic  bird,  to  come 
And  seek  a  sure  asylum  here, 

With  one  that  loves  his  home  ! 

My  trees  for  you,  ye  artless  tribe. 

Shall  store  of  fruit  preserve  ; 
0,  let  mo  thus  your  friendship  bribe  ! 

Come  '.  —  feed  without  reserve. 

For  you  these  cherries  I  protect, 

To  you  these  plums  belong  : 
Sweet  is  the  fruit  that  you  have  pecked, 

liut  sweeter  far  your  song. 

Let  then  this  league,  bctwiit  us  made, 

Our  mutual  interests  guard  : 
Mine  be  the  gift  of  fruit  and  shade  ; 

Your  songs  be  my  reward. 


BRETON'S  "PHILLIDA   AND    CORYDON.' 

I.N  the  merry  month  of  May, 
In  a  morn  by  break  of  day. 
With  a  troop  of  damsels  playing. 
Forth  I  yode,  forsooth,  a  maying  ; 

When  anon  by  a  wood  side, 
When  as  May  was  in  hia  pride, 
I  espied  all  alone 
Phillida  and  Corydon. 

Much  ado  there  was,  God  wot  ; 
He  wold  love  and  she  wold  not. 
She  said  never  man  was  true, 
He  says  none  was  false  to  you  : 


should  have  no  wrong. 


He  said  ho  had 

She  says  lov 

Corydon  wold  kiss 

She  says,  maids  must  kiss  no  men, 

Till  they  do  for  good  and  all. 
When  she  made  the  shepherd  call 
All  the  heavens  to  witness  troth  — 
Never  loved  a  truer  youth. 

Then  with  many  a  pretty  oath, 
Yea  and  nay,  and  faith  and  troth  — 
Such  as  seelie  shepherds  use 
When  they  will  not  love  abuse  — 

Love,  that  had  been  long  deluded, 
Was  with  kisses  sweet  concluded  ; 
And  Phillida  with  garlands  gay 
Was  made  the  Lady  of  the  May. 


BLOOMFIELD'S    "LUCY;" 
OR,  "THE  HOLIDAY." 
Thy  favorite  bird  is  soaring,  still  : 

My  Lucy,  haste  thee  o'er  the  dale  ; 

The  stream  'a  let  loose,  and  from  the  mill 

All  silent  comes  the  balmy  gale  ; 

Y'et,  so  lightly  on  its  way, 

Seems  to  whisper,  '  Holiday.* 

The  pathway  flowers  that  bending  meet 

And  give  the  meads  tlieir  yellow  hue, 

The  May-bush  and  the  meadow-sweet, 

Reserve  their  fragrance  all  for  you. 

Why,  then,  Lucy,  why  delay  ? 

Let  OS  share  the  holiday. 


17 


130 


RURAL  POETRY. BLOOMFIELD STREET  - 


Since  there  thy  smiles,  my  charming  maid, 

Are  with  unfeigned  rapture  seen, 
To  beauty  be  the  homage  paid  ! 

Come,  claim  the  triumph  of  the  green. 
Here 's  my  hand,  come,  come  away ; 
Share  the  merry  holiday. 

A  promise,  too,  my  Lucy  made 

(And  shall  my  heart  its  claim  resign  ?) 

That  ero  May  flowers  again  shouM  fade 

Her  heart  and  hand  should  both  bo  mine. 

Hark  ye,  Lucy,  this  is  May  ; 

Love  shall  crown  oui-  holiday. 


STREET'S  "  EARLY  GARDEN." 

When  the  light  flouri.-h  nf  tin-  Mnd.iid  sounds, 
And  the  south  wind  cim  ~  lihnully  ;   whrn  the  sky 
Is  soft  in  delicate  blu.\  wjtii  hmHiiii;  ii^-.irl 
Spotting  its  bosom,  all  pruclaiuiiiig  sjniiig, 
0,  with  what  joy  the  garden  spot  we  greet, 
Wakening  from  wintry  slumbers  !     As  we  tread 
The  branching  walks,  within  its  hollowed  nook 
We  see  the  violet  by  some  lingering  flake 
Of  melting  snow,  its  sweet  eye  lifting  up, 
As  welcoming  our  presence  ;  o'er  our  he.ods 
The  fruit-tree  buds  are  swelling,  and  we  hail 
Our  grateful  task  of  moulding  into  form 
The  waste  around  us.     The  quick-delving  spade 
Upturns  the  fresh  and  odorous  earth  ;  the  rake 
Smoothes  the  plump   bed,  and   in  their   furrow'd 

graves 
We  drop  the  seed.     The  robin  stops  his  work 
Upon  the  apple-bough,  and  flutters  down. 
Stealing,  with  oft  checked  and  uplifted  foot, 
And  watchful  gaze  bent  quickly  either  side, 
Toward  the  fallen  wealth  of  food  around  the  mouth 
Of  the  light  paper  pouch  upon  the  earth. 
But,  fearful  of  our  motions,  off  he  flies. 
And  stoops  upon  the  grub  the  spade  has  thrown 
Loose  from  its  den  beside  the  wounded  root. 
Days  pass  along.   The  pattering  shower  falls  down, 
And  then  the  warming  sunshine.     Tiny  clifts 
Tell  that  the  seed  has  turned  itself,  and  now 
Is  pushing  up  its  stem.     The  verdant  pea 
Looks  out ;  the  twin-leafed,  scalloped  radish  shows 
Sprinkles  of  green.     The  sturdy  bean  displays 
Its  jaws  distended  wide,  and  slightly  tongued. 
The  downy  cucumber  is  seen  ;  the  corn 
Upshoots  its  close-wrapped  spike,  and  on  its  mound 
The  young  potato  sets  its  tawny  ear. 
Meanwhile  the  fruit-trees  gloriously  have  broke 
Into  a  flush  of  beauty,  and  the  grape, 
Casting  aside  in  peels  its  shrivelled  skin, 
Shows  its  soft  furay  leaf  of  delicate  pink, 


And  the  thick,  midge-like  blossoms  round  diffuse 
A  strong,  delicious  fragrance.     Soon  along 
The  trellis  stretch  the  tendrils,  sharply  pronged. 
Clinging,  tenacious,  -Mth  their  winding  rings. 
And  sending  on  the  stem.     A  sheet  of  bloom 
Then  decks  the  garden,  till  the  summer  glows, 
Forming  the  perfect  fruit.     In  showery  nights 
The  flre-fly  glimmers  with  its  pendent  lamp 
Of  greenish  gold.     Each  dark  nook  has  a  voice, 
While  perfume  floats  on  every  wave  of  air. 
The  corn  lifts  up  its  bandrols  long  and  slim  ; 
The  cucumber  has  overflowed  its  spot 
With  massy  verdure,  while  the  yellow  squash 
Looks  like  a  trumpet  'mid  its  giant  leaves  ; 
And  as  we  reap  the  rich  fruits  of  our  care. 
We  bless  the  God  who  rains  his  gifts  on  us  — 
Making  the  earth  its  treasures  rich  to  yield 
With  slight  and  fitful  toil.     Our  hearts  should  be 
Ever  bent  harps,  to  send  unceasing  hymns 
Of  thankful  praise  to  One  who  fills  all  space. 
And  yet  looks  down  with  smiles  on  lowly  man. 


HEYWOOD'S  "SHEPHERD'S  SONG." 
We  that  have  known  no  greater  state 
Than  this  we  live  in,  praise  our  fate  ; 
For  courtly  silks  in  cares  are  spent. 
When  country's  russet  breeds  content. 
The  power  of  sceptres  we  admire, 

;  But  sheep-hooks  for  our  use  desire. 

!■  Simple  and  low  is  our  condition, 

For  here  with  us  is  no  ambition  : 
We  with  the  sun  our  flocks  unfold, 
Whose  rising  makes  their  fleeces  gold  ; 
Our  music  from  the  birds  we  borrow. 
They  bidding  us,  we  them,  good-morrow. 
Our  habits  are  but  coarse  and  plain. 
Yet  they  defend  from  wind  and  rain  ; 

1  As  warm,  too,  in  an  equal  eye, 

I  As  those  bestained  in  scarlet  dye. 

Tlie  shepherd  with  his  homespun  lass 


d..th  ■ 


girls, 
and  pearls 


Nay,  often  with  loss  danger  too. 
Those  that  delight  in  dainties'  store, 
One  stomach  feed  at  once,  no  more  ; 
And,  when  with  homely  fare  we  feast, 
With  us  it  doth  as  well  digest  ; 
.\nd  many  times  we  better  speed, 
For  our  wild  fruits  no  surfeits  breed. 
If  we  sometimes  the  willow  wear, 
By  subtle  swains  that  dare  forswear. 
We  wonder  whence  it  comes,  and  fear 
They  've  been  at  court  and  learnt  it  thei 


fMslionu's  "f  orfst  c'l;i(hs/' 


A  FOREST  WALK  IN  SPRLNCi. 


In  ancient  poet's  comparison  of  l 
ence  of  man  aftur  deatli  witli  tlie  vt 
vegetable  world.    Tlie  lesson  which  c 
deduced  from  that  revival. 

May.  Forest  trees.  The  angler. '  Forest  (lowers.  Anal- 
ogy between  the  diversity  of  vegetable  prmluctions  and  the 
'its.    Birds.    Address  to  parents. 


Appearance  of  a  forest  i 


■onr  TO  ucirr.— TiiK  resitibectios. 
'  The  meanest  herb  we  trample  in  the  field, 
Or  in  the  garden  nurture,  when  its  leaf 


In. 


,  forebodes  t 


And  from  short  slumber  wakes  to  life  agait 

Man  wakes  no  more  !     Man,  peerless,  valiant,  wise, 

Once  chilled  by  death,  sleeps  hopeless  in  the  dust, 

A  long,  unbroken,  never-ending  sleep  ! ' 

Such  was  thy  plaint,  untutored  bard,'  when  May, 

As  now,  the  lawns  revived  !     'T  was  thine  to  rove 

Darkling,  ere  yet  from  Death's  reluctant  shade, 

In  cloudless  majesty,  the  Son  of  God 

Sprang  glorious  ;  while  hell's  ruler,  he  who  late, 

With  frantic  scoffs  of  triumph,  to  his  powers 

Pointed  the  sad  procession  as  it  moved 

From  Calvary  to  the  yet  unclosed  tomb,  — 

Viewed  the  grave  yield  its  Conqueror  ;  and,  aghast. 

Shunned,  in  the  deepest  midnight  of  his  realms. 

The  wrath  of  earth's  and  heaven's  Almighty  Lord. 

KiTCTtE'S 


Said  the  desponding  lay,  *  Man  wakes  no  more'  ? 
0  blind  !  who  rcad'st  not  in  the  teeming  soil. 
The  freshening  meadow,  and  the  bursting  wood, 
A  nobler  lesson  !  —  He  who  spake  the  word. 
And  the  sun  rose  from  chaos,  while  the  abyss 
From  the  new  fires  with  sliuddcring  surge  recoiled  ;■ 
lie,  at  whose  voice  the  moon's  nocturnal  beam. 
And  starry  legions,  on  the  admiring  earth 
Rained  lustre  ;  He,  whose  providence  the  change 
Of  day  and  night  and  seasons  crowned  with  food. 
And  health  and  peace  proclaimed  ;  bade  Nature's 
Point  to  the  scenes  of  dim  futurity.  [hand 

lie  on  a  world,  in  Gentile  darkness  lost. 
Pitying  looked  down  :  He  to  bewildered  man 
Bade  Spring,  with  annual  admonition,  hold 
Her  emblematic  taper  ;  not  with  light 
Potent  each  shade  of  doubt  and  fear  to  chase. 
Yet  friendly  through  the  gloom  to  guide  his  way, 
'Till  the  dawn  crimsoned,  and  the  impatient  East, 
Shouting  for  joy,  the  Day-star's  advent  hailed. 


That  star 
^  Moschus, 


and,  with  a  glow  that  shames 
156  or  256  B.  C.  See  note  p.  28. 


The  sun's  meridian  splendor,  has  illumed 
Eternity  !  thy  wonders  :  and  as  hills. 
Far  seen,  by  telescopic  power  draw  nigh  ; 
Regions  of  bliss  and  realms  of  penal  doom,  — 
More  clear,  more  sure,  than  earth  to  mortal  ken,  — 
Beyond  the  shades  of  death  to  Faith  reveals  ! 
Yet  may  this  sylvan  wild,  from  Winter's  grasp 
Now  rescued,  bid  the  soul,  on  loftiest  hope 
Musing  elate,  anticipate  the  hour 
When,  at  the  Archangel's  voice,  the  slumbering  dust 
Shall  wake,  nor  earth  nor  sea  withhold  her  dead  : 
When,  starting  at  the  crash  of  bursting  tombs. 
Of  mausoleums  rent,  and  pyramids 

Heaved  from  their  base,  the  tyrant  of  the  grave, 

Propped  on  his  broken  sceptre,  while  the  crown 
Falls  from  his  head,  — beholds  his  prison-house 
Emptied  of  all  its  habitants  ;  beholds 
Mortal  in  immortality  absorbed. 
Corruptible  in  incorruption  lost.        ' 

JOT  EXCIT8D  DT  THE  RE.VOViTIOS  OF  PORESTS  IX  SPRWO  : 
ITS  PBOr.RKSS  DESCRIBED  J  THE  OAK  ;  BEECH  j  iSO  l  HiW- 
THORS  i    HOLLT  ;    WILLOW  ;   iSPES. 

How  swells  the  enraptured  bosom,  while  the  eye 
Wanders  unsated  with  delight  from  shade 
To  shade,  from  grove  to  thicket,  from  near  groups 
To  yon  primeval  woods  with  darkening  sweep 
Retiring  ;   and  with  beauty  sees  the  whole 
Kindle,  and  glow  with  renovated  life  ! 
For  now,  at  Spring's  reanimating  call. 
Each  native  of  the  forest,  from  the  trunk. 
Towering  and  huge,  down  to  the  tangled  bush. 
Its  own  peculiar  character  resumes. 
Chief  of  the  sylvan  realms,  its  verdant  wreath 
With  tender  olive  stained  the  oak  protrudes. 
Proud  of  a  sheltered  monarch,  proud  to  lend 
A  chaplct  still  to  British  loyalty. 
Even  yet,  with  ruddy  spoils  from  Autumn  won 
Loaded,  the  beech  its  lengthened  buds  untwines. 
1(3  knotted  bloom  secured,  the  ash  puts  forth 
The  winged  leaf ;  the  hawthorn  wraps  its  boughs 
In  snowy  mantle  :  from  the  vivid  greens 
That  shine  around,  the  holly.  Winter's  pride. 
Recedes  abashed  :  the  willow,  in  yon  vale, 
Its  silver  lining  to  the  breeze  upturns  ; 
And  rustling  aspens  shiver  by  the  brook  ; 

TIIR    STKEAMLBT   IN   SPBISO  ;     ITS    FISH  ;     AI.DERS  ;     TROrTS  ; 
TUB   angler's   mishaps. 

While  the  unsullied  stream,  from  April  showers 
Refined,  each  sparkling  pebble  shows  that  decks 
The  bottom  ;  and  each  scaly  habitant 
Quick  glancing  in  the  shallows,  or  in  quest 
Of  plunder  slowly  sailing  in  the  deep. 
There  oft  at  eve,  by  shadowing  alders  veiled 


132 


RURAL    POETRY. GISBORNE. 


From  keen-eyed  trouts,  fixed  where  the  sable  flood 
Mantled  with  foam,  with  twisted  roots  o'erhung. 
Portends  a  giant  prey  —  the  angler  drops 
His  fly  in  quivering  circles  on  the  pool, 
Fluttering  with  mimic  wings  ;  then,  whila  his  hand 
Trembles  with  hope,  beholds,  ill-omened  sight, 
That  tells  of  dire  misfortune  !  fractured  lines 
Dependent,  or  in  complicated  folds 
Linking  the  tangled  boughs  that  sweep  the  stream, 
And  rise  and  fall  with  every  passing  wave. 


rK'iiiatli  III''  -v1\;mi  .■iiiiopy,  the  ground 
Glittir-  nitli  ll'iweiy  .lyes  :  the  primrose  first 
In  mossy  dell  return  of  Spring  to  greet  : 
Pilewort,  that  o'er  her  roots  of  healing  fame 
Expands  the  radiance  of  her  starry  bloom  : 
Arum,  that  in  a  mantling  hood  conceals 
Her  sanguine  club,  and  spreads  her  spotted  leaf 
Armed  with  keen  torture  for  the  unwary  tongue  : 
Anemone,'  now  robed  in  virgin  white, 
Now  with  faint  crimson  blushing  :  fraudful  spurge,^ 
That  seeks  in  beauty's  garb  her  snares  to  hide, 
In  milky  stream  her  poison  veils,  her  stem 
In  ruddy  mantle  wraps,  and  from  a  zone 
Of  dusky  foliage  elevates  more  bright 
Her  crest  of  gold  :  sorrel,^  that  hangs  her  cups. 
Ere  their  frail  form  and  streaky  veins  decay. 
O'er  her  pale  verdure,  till  parental  care 
Inclines  the  shortening  stems,  and  to  the  shade 
Of  closing  leaves  her  infant  race  withdraws  : 
Orchis  ■>  with  crowded  pyramids  the  bank 


Purpling  :  the 


harebell,  as  with  grief  depressed. 


ning  Hand,  one  Source  supreme, 
1.  tiniis  infinite,  one  Lord, 
i^'lit,  in  wisdom,  and  in  love  ; 
Willi  vivifying  beam 
'nldin  flood  of  life  withdraws  — 


I  Flourish  or  fade. 


MUTCALLY   HBLPFUL   1 


Plans  of  accordant  aim 
Speak  the  same  Author.     Mark  the  varied  dower 
Of  talent  shared  by  man.     These  trace  the  laws 
That  bind  the  planet  to  its  orb,  and  heave 
The  billowy  tide.     The  helm  of  empire  those 
Rule,  in  the  storm  serene  ;  or  poise  the  scales 
Of  justice  ;  or  when  mad  ambition  scoffs 
The  sacred  league,  nor  recks  the  landmark,  hurl 
The  long-suspended  thunderbolt  of  war. 
Some  in  translucent  narrative  recall 
Past  ages,  or  in  visionary  song 
Heroic  worth  portray.     Inventive,  some 
Call  art  the  paths  of  life  with  needful  aid 
To  smoothe,  or  grace  with  ornament.     Some  ply 
The  spade  and  ploughshare,  skilful  to  foreknow 
What  best  each  soil  may  yield.    Vain  of  his  powers. 
Thee,  the  great  Giver,  thee.  Parent  of  good, 
Man  overlooks  or  scorns.     Thy  several  gifts, 
Harmonious  though  dissimilar,  all  conspire 
To  swell  the  sum  of  general  bliss,  all  work 
Thy  Rlory  ;  all  well  pleasing  in  thy  sight, 
Uh.i'liad'4  thr  .-hildren  of  the  dust  perform 
Eu.  h  \n~  |.i  .uliiu  office,  and,  combined 
In  cim;  vast  l:uiiily  with  fraternal  love. 
Lend  mutual  aid,  and  praise  their  common  God. 


Bowing  her  fragrance  :  and  the  scentless  plant,^ 
That  with  the  violet's  borrowed  form  and  hue 
The  unskilful  wanderer  in  the  grove  deceives. 

THE  VARIOUS  HiBrrS   AND    HABITATS    OF   PLANTS  DESCRIBED. 
UNITY   IN  THEIR    VARIETY. 

In  size,  in  form,  in  texture,  and  in  use, 
How  various  are  the  tribes  whose  verdure  warms 
And  decorates  the  earth  !     Some  from  the  wild 
Untracked  by  foot  of  man,  from  mountain  glens 
And  rifted  crags  precipitous,  aloft 
Urge  their  aspiring  boles  and  knotted  strength. 
Destined  with  fleets  to  spread  the  main,  or  build 
Engines,  whose  ponderous  and  convulsive  strokes 
Thundering  shall  rock  the  ground.     With  pensile 

boughs 
Some  droop  o'er  willowy  streams,  and  yield  their 
For  humbler  service.   Some  in  grassy 
And  flowery  broidure  clad,  with  fragi 
j    AVith  food  sustain,  the  ani 
>Vood-ani-i'i'>ii.        Vii.tiri 


bending  itself  back  in 

down  its  charge  to  the  s 

1  Orchis  mascula,  Lii 

>Dog'3\ 


He    [growth 
1  cheer, 


cd  world. 


YOUMG  i  B 

While  thus  the   imprisoned   leaves   and  waking 
flowers 
Burst  from  their  tombs,  the  birds  that  lurked  unseen 
Amid  the  hybernal  shade,  in  busy  tribes 
Pour  their  forgotten  multitudes,  and  catch 
New  life,  new  rapture,  from  the  smile  of  Spring. 
The  oak's  dark  canopy,  the  moss-grown  thorns, 
Flutter  with  hurried  pinions,  and  resound 
With  notes  that  suit  a  forest ;  some  perchanoe, 
Rude  singly,  yet  with  sweeter  notes  combined 
In  unison  harmonious  ;  notes  that  speak, 
In  language  vocal  to  the  listening  wood. 
The  fears  and  hopes,  the  griefs  and  joys,  that  heave 
The  feathered  breast.     Proud  of  cerulean  stains 
From  heaven's  unsullied  arch  purloined,  the  jay 
Screams  hoarse.     With  shrill  and  oft-repeated  cry, 
Her  angular  course,  alternate  rise  and  fall. 
The  woodpecker  prolongs  ;  then  to  the  trunk 
Close  clinging,  with  unwearied  beak  assails 
The  hollow  bark  ;  through  every  cell  the  strokes 
Roll  the  dire  echoes  that  from  wintry  sleep 
Awake  her  insect  prey  ;  the  alarmed  tribes    [stem  : 
Start  from  each  chink  that  cleaves  the  mouldering 
Their  scattered  flight  with  lengthening  tongue  the  foe 


SPRING  —  MAY. 


133 


Pursues ;  joy  glistous  on  hor  vordant  plumos, 
And  brighter  scarlet  sparkles  ou  her  crest. 
From  bough  to  bough  the  restless  magpie  roves, 
And  chatters  as  she  flics.     In  sober  brown 
Drest,  but  with  nature's  tendercst  pencil  touched, 
The  wryneck  her  monotonous  complaint 
Continues  ;  harbinger '  of  her  who,  doomed 
Never  the  sympathetic  joy  to  know 
That  warms  the  mother  cowering  o'er  her  young, 
A  stranger  robs,  and  to  that  stranger's  lovo 
Hor  egg  commits  unnatural  :  the  nurse. 
Unwitting  of  the  change,  hor  nestling  feeds 
With  toil  augmented  ;  its  portentous  throat 
Wondering  she  views  with  ceaseless  hunger  gape, 
Starts  at  the  glare  of  its  capacious  eyes. 
Its  giant  bulk,  and  wings  of  hues  unknown. 
Meanwhile  the  little  songsters,  prompt  to  cheer 
Their  mates  close  brooding  in  the  brake  below. 
Strain  their  shrill  throats  ;  or,  with  parental  art, 
From  twig  to  twig  their  timid  offspring  lead  ; 
Teach  them  to  seize  the  unwary  gnat,  to  poise 

1  The  Welsh  and  Snrcdes  consider  this  bird  as  the  for< 
runner  or  servant  of  llic  cuckiio,  ami  the  Welsh  call 
'cuckoo's  attendant ;  *  in  mid  EngtuiiU  it  is  named  '  cuckoo' 


Their  pinions,  in  short  flights  their  strength  to 
And  venturous  trust  the  bosom  of  the  air. 

CARBFCL  EDCCATIOX  Of  CinLDHEN  t'RCl 

0  ye  !  whose  knees  a  youthful  progeny  climbs,         , 
While  mirth,  the  fruit  of  innocence  and  love,  j 

Dimples  their  cheeks,  and  shuts  their  laughing  eyes, 
Think  on  your  charge  !  Fast  as  the  expanding  mind 
Imbibes  the  lesson,  from  her  fount  above 
Bid  truth  in  ampler  stream  infuse  her  lore. 
Leave  not,  in  vernal  dawn  when  life  invokes 
Your  culturing  hand,  the  field  to  weeds  a  prey  | 

Native,  quick  sprouting  :  plant,  with  earliest  oare. 
The  seeds  you  most  desire  should  fill  the  soil  ; 
And  nurse,  with  7,eal  proportioned  to  its  worth, 
Each  rising  produce.     Teach  your  infant  race 
That 't  is  not  theirs,  like  songsters  of  the  grove. 
Born  but  to  sport  and  flutter  for  a  Bay, 
To  dote  on  vain  and  transitory  joys. 
Teach  them  the  harder,  nobler  task  decreed 
To  prove  the  sons  of  Adam.     Teach  them  love 
Supreme  of  God,  and,  next  to  God,  of  man. 
Teach  them  't  is  theirs,  in  arduous  conflict  ranged, 
'Gainst  sin  and  powers  of  darkness,  to  make  known 
Their  firm  allegiance  to  the  King  of  kings.   *   *   ' 


(Tusscr's   "Hlau's   Ijuslianiiri)." 


Cold  May  and  windy  Forgotten  month  past. 

Barn  filleth  up  flncly.  Do  now  at  the  last. 

»  *  From  May  till  October,  leave  cropping,  forwhy? 
In  woodsere,  whatever  thou  croppest  will  die  ; 
Where  ivy  embraceth  the  tree  very  sore, 
Kill  ivy,  or  else  tree  will  addle  no  more. 
Keep  threshing  for  thresher  till  May  be  come  in. 
To  have,  to  be  suer,  fresh  chaff  in  thy  bin  ; 
And  somewhat  to  scamble,  for  hog  and  for  hen, 
And  work,  when  it  raincth,  for  loitering  men. 
Be  suer  of  hay,  and  of  provender  some. 
For  laboring  cattle,  till  pasture  be  come, 
.\nd  if  ye  do  mind,  to  have  nothing  to  sterve. 
Have  one  thing  or  other,  for  all  things  to  serve.  '*'  * 
In  May  get  a  weud-hook,  a  crotch,  and  a  glove. 
And  weed  out  sucli  weeds  as  the  corn  doth  not  love. 
For  weeding  of  winter  corn,  now  it  is  best ; 
But  .lune  is  the  better  for  weeding  the  rest. 
The  May-weed  doth  burn,  and  the  thistle  doth  fret ; 
The  fitches  pull  downward  both  rye  and  the  wheat : 
The  brake  and  the  cockle  be  noisome  too  much  ; 
Yet  like  unto  boodle  no  weed  there  is  such. 
In  May  is  good  sowing  thy  buck  or  thy  brank. 
That  black  is  as  popper,  and  smelloth  as  rank  : 
It  is  to  thy  land  as  a  comfort,  or  muck,  *  » 
Sow  buck  after  barley,  or  after  thy  wheat, 
A  peck  to  tho  rood  (if  the  measure  be  great). 
Three  earths  see  ye  give  it,  and  sow  it  above  ; 
And  harrow  it  finely,  if  buck  ye  do  love.  •  * 


Good  flax  and  good  hemp  to  have  of  her  own. 
In  May  a  good  huswife  will  see  it  be  sown  ; 
And  afterwards  trim  it,  to  serve  at  a  need. 
The  fimble  to  spin,  and  the  carl  for  her  seed. 
Get  into  thy  hop-yard,  for  now  it  is  time 
To  teach  Robin  Hop  on  his  pole  how  to  climb  : 
To  follow  the  sun  as  his  property  is. 
And  weed  him  and  trim  him,  if  aught  go  amiss. 
Grass,  thistle,  and  mustard-seed,  hemlock,  and  bur. 
Tine,  mallow,  and  nettle  that  keep  such  a  stur  ; 
With  peacock  and  turkey  that  nibble  off  top. 
Are  very  ill  neighbors  to  seely,  poor  hop.  *  * 
Take  heed  to  thy  bees,  that  are  ready  to  swarm, 
Tho  loss  thereof  now  is  a  crown's  worth  of  harm  ; 
Let  skilful  be  ready,  and  diligence  seen. 
Lest,  being  too  careless,  thou  losest  thy  been. 
In  May,  at  the  furthest,  twifallow  thy  land  ; 
Much  drought  may  else  after  cause  plough  for  to 

stand.  •  • 
Twifallow  once  ended,  get  tumbrell  and  man. 
And  compaa  that  fallow,  as  soon  as  ye  can.  *  * 
Let  children  be  hired  to  lay  out  their  bones. 
From  fallow  as  needeth  to  gather  up  stones.  *  * 
To  grass  with  thy  calves  in  some  meadow-plot  near. 
Where  neither  their  mothers  may  see  them,  nor  hear: 
Where  water  is  plenty  and  barth  to  git  warm. 
And  look  well  unto  them,  for  taking  of  harm. 
Pinch  never  thy  wennels  of  water  or  meat. 
If  ever  ye  hope  for  to  have  them  good  neat.  •   • 


Isalms  of  Irinsc  for  Saij. 


'OPE'S  "UNIVERSAL  PRAYER." 

DEO    OPT.    MAX. 

Father  of  all  !  in  every  age, 

In  every  clime,  adored, 
By  saint,  by  savage,  and  by  sage, 

Jehovah,  Jove,  or  Lord  ! 
Thou  grejt  First  Cause,  least  understood, 

Who  all  my  sense  confined 
To  know  but  this,  that  Thou  art  good, 

And  that  myself  am  blind  : 
Yet  gave  me,  in  this  dark  estate, 

To  see  the  good  from  ill  ; 
And,  binding  nature  fast  in  fate. 

Left  free  the  human  will. 
What  conscience  dictates  to  be  done, 

Or  warns  mo  not  to  do, 
This  teach  me  more  than  hell  to  shun, 

That  more  than  heaven  pursue. 
What  blessings  thy  free  bounty  gives 

Let  me  not  cast  away  ; 
For  God  is  paid  when  man  receives. 

To  enjoy  is  to  obey. 
Yet  not  to  earth's  contracted  span 

Thy  goodness  let  me  bound. 
Or  think  Thee  Lord  alone  of  man. 
When  thousand  worlds  are  round. 

Let  not  this  weak,  unknowing  hand 

Presume  thy  bolts  to  throw, 
And  deal  damnation  round  the  land 

On  each  I  judge  thy  foe. 
If  I  am  right,  thy  grace  impart 

Still  in  the  right  to  stay  ; 
If  I  am  wrong,  0  teach  my  heart 

To  find  that  better  way. 
Save  me  alike  from  foolish  pride, 

Or  impious  discontent 
At  aught  thy  wisdom  has  denied, 

Or  aught  thy  goodness  lent. 
Teach  me  to  feel  another's  woe  ; 

To  hide  the  fault  I  see  ; 
That  mercy  I  to  others  show. 

That  mercy  show  to  me. 


Mean  though  I  am,  not  wholly  so, 
quickened  by  thy  breath  ; 
lie  whcresoe'er  I  go, 

is  day's  life  or  death. 


0  lead 
Through 


This  day,  be  bread  and  peace  my  lot : 

All  else  beneath  the  sun. 
Thou  know'st  if  best  bestowed  or  not  j 

And  let  thy  will  be  done. 

To  Thee,  whose  temple  is  all  space. 
Whose  altar,  earth,  sea,  skies  ! 

One  chorus  let  all  being  raise  ! 
All  nature's  incense  rise  ! 


ADDISON'S  "NINETEENTH  PSALM. ^ 

VEKSES    1— G. 

The  spacious  firmament  on  high. 

With  all  the  blue,  ethereal  sky. 

And  spangled  heavens,  a  shining  frame. 

Their  great  Original  proclaim  : 

The  unwearied  sun,  from  day  to  day, 

Does  his  Creator's  power  display. 

And  publishes  to  every  land 

The  work  of  an  Almighty  hand. 

Soon  as  the  evening  shades  prevail, 
The  moon  takes  up  the  wondrous  tale, 
And  nightly  to  the  listening  earth 
Repeats  the  story  of  her  birth  : 
While  all  the  stars  that  round  her  bum. 
And  all  the  planets  in  their  turn, 
Confirm  the  tidings  as  they  roll, 
And  spread  the  truth  from  pole  to  pole. 

What  though,  in  solenin  silence,  all 
Move  round  the  dark  terrestrial  ball  ? 
What  though  nor  real  voice,  nor  sound. 
Amid  their  radiant  orbs  be  found? 
In  reason's  ear  they  all  rejoice. 
And  utter  forth  a  glorious  voice, 
Forever  singing,  as  they  shine, 
'  The  hand  that  made  us  is  Divine  ! ' 


-^M. 


I  • 


'W  if' 


^5^>S-' 


SUMMER-JUNE 


[jf   Scroui)   of  t()c  Seasons. 


THOMSON-S  "  SUMJrER.' 


The  subject  proposed.  Invocation.  Address  to  Mr.  Dod- 
inffton.  An  introductory  rellection  on  the  motion  of  the 
heavenly  bodies  i  wlience  the  succession  of  the  seasons. 
As  the  face  of  nature  in  this  season  is  almost  uniform, 
the  progress  of  the  poem  is  a  description  of  a  summer's 
day.  The  dawn.  Sun-risinir.  Ilynin  to  the  sun.  Fore- 
noon. Summer  Insects  described.  Hay-mal£ing.  Sheep- 
shearing.  Noon-day.  A  woodland  retreat.  Gr..up  of 
herds  and  flocks.  A  solemn  prove ;  how  it  affects  a 
contemplative  mind.  A  cataract,  and  rude  scene.  View 
of  summer  in  the  torrid  lone.  Storm  of  thunder  and 
lightning.  A  tale.  The  storm  over,  a  serene  afternoon. 
Bathing.  Hour  of  walking.  Transition  to  the  prospect 
of  a  rich,  well.cuiavatcd  country ;  which  introduces  a 
Sunset.     Evening.     Night. 


1  Great  Britain 


;  with 


From  brightening  fields  of  ether  fair  disclosed, 
Child  of  the  Sun,  refulgent  Summer  comes. 
In  pride  of  youth,  and  felt  through  Nature's  depth  : 
He  comes  attended  by  the  sultry  hours, 
And  ever-fanning  breezes,  on  his  way  ; 
While  from  his  ardent  look,  the  turning  Spring 
Averts  her  blnshful  face  ;  and  earth,  and  skies, 
All  smiling,  to  his  hot  dominion  leaves. 

Hence,  let  me  hosto  into  the  mid-wood  shade, 


Where  scarce  a  sunbeam  wanders  through  the  gloom; 
And  on  the  dark-green  gniss,  beside  the  brink 
Of  haunted  stream,  that  by  the  roots  of  oak 
Rolls  o'er  the  rocky  channel,  lie  at  large. 
And  sing  the  glories  of  the  circling  year. 

ISVOCATIOS  TO  ISSPniATIOS. 

Come,  Inspiration  !  from  thy  hennit  seat, 
By  mortal  seldom  found  ;  may  Fancy  dare. 
From  thy  fixed  serious  eye,  and  raptured  glanco 
Shot  on  surrounding  heaven,  to  steal  one  look 
Creative  of  the  poet,  every  power 
E.\alting  to  an  ecstasy  of  soul. 

DF.DICATOBT  TKIBrTK  TO   MB.   BoniSOTOX. 

And  thou,  my  youthful  Muse's  early  friend. 
In  whom  the  human  graces  all  unite  : 
Pure  light  of  mind,  and  tenderness  of  heart  ; 
Genius,  and  wisdom  :  the  gay  social  sense, 
By  decency  chastised  ;  goodness  and  wit, 
In  seldom-meeting  harmony  combined  ; 
Unblemished  honor,  and  an  active  zeal 
For  Britain's  glory,  liberty,  and  man  : 
0  Dodington  ! '  attend  my  rural  song, 

1  The  celebrated  Bubb    Dodington,  Lord    Melcombe,  a 


136 


RURAL   POETRY. 


Stoop  to  my  theme,  inspirit  every  line, 
And  teach  me  to  deserve  thy  just  applause. 


THE  REVOmnONS  OF  TBE  PLANETS    AND   OF  THE  EARTH 
TEST  OMNIPOTENT   WISDOM. 

With  what  an  awful  world-revolving  power 
Were  first  the  unwieldy  planets  launched  along 
The  illimitable  void  !  thus  to  remain, 
Amid  the  flux  of  many  thousand  years, 
That  oft  has  swept  the  toiling  race  of  men 
And  all  their  labored  monuments  away, 
Pirra,  unremitting,  matchless,  in  their  course  ; 
To  the  kind-tempered  change  of  night  and  day, 
And  of  the  seasons  ever  stealing  round, 
Minutely  faithful :  such  the  All-perfect  hand 
That  poised,  impels,  and  rules  the  steady  whole  ! 

TiTE    MONTH    OP   JUNE.  — DAWN   OP   A     SPMMER    MORNING 


AVhen  now  no  more  the  alternate  Twins  are  fired, 
And  Cancer^  reddens  with  the  solar  blaze, 
Short  is  the  doubtful  empire  of  the  night ; 
And  soon,  observant  of  approaching  day, 
The  meek-eyed  Morn  appears,  mother  of  dews, 
At  first  faint  gleaming  in  the  dappled  east  : 
Till  far  o'er  ether  spreads  the  widening  glow  ; 
And,  from  before  the  lustre  of  her  face, 
White  break  the  clouds  away.    With  quickened  step. 
Brown  Night  retires  :  young  Day  pours  in  apace, 
And  opens  all  the  lawny  prospect  wide. 
The  dripping-rock,  the  mountain's  misty  top. 
Swell  on  the  sight,  and  brighten  with  the  dawn. 
Blue,  through  the  dusk,  the  smoking  currents  shine; 
And  from  the  bladed  field  the  fearful  hare 
Limps,  awkward  ;  while  along  the  forest  glade 
The  wild  deer  trip,  and  often  turning  gaze 
At  early  passenger.     Music  awakes 
The  native  voice  of  undissembled  joy; 
And  thick  around  the  woodland  hymns  arise. 
Roused  by  the  cock,  the  soon-clad  shepherd  leaves 
His  mossy  cottage,  where  with  peace  he  dwells  ; 
And  from  the  crowded  fold,  in  order,  drives 
His  flock,  to  taste  the  verdure  of  the  morn. 


Falsely  luxurious  !  will  not  man  awake  ; 
And,  springing  from  the  bed  of  sloth,  enjoy 
The  cool,  the  fragrant,  and  the  silent  hour. 
To  meditation  due  and  sacred  song  ? 
For  is  there  aught  in  sleep  can  charm  the  wis 
To  lie  in  dead  oblivion,  losing  half 
The  fleeting  moments  of  too  short  a  life  ; 
Total  extinction  of  the  enlightened  soul ! 
Or  else  to  feverish  vanity  alive, 
Wildered,  and  tossing  through  distempered  dri 
Who  would  in  such  a  gloomy  state  remain 
Longer  than  Nature  craves,  when  every  muse 
And  every  blooming  pleasure  waits  without, 
To  bless  the  wildly-devious  morning  walk  ? 

1  The  Crab,  the  fourth  sign  of  the  zodiac. 


But  yonder  comes  the  powerful  King  of  Day, 
Rejoicing  in  the  east.     The  lessening  cloud. 
The  kindling  azure;  and  the  mountain's  brow 
Illumed  with  fluid  gold,  his  near  approach 
Betoken  glad.     Lo  !  now,  apparent  all, 
Aslant  the  dew-bright  earth,  and  colored  air, 
He  looks  in  boundless  majesty  abroad  ; 
And  sheds  the  shining  day,  that  burnished  plays 
On   rocks,  and   hills,  and  towers,  and   wandering 


High-gleaming  from  afar.     Prime  cheerer,  Light ! 

Of  all  material  beings  first,  and  best  ! 

Efflux  divine  !     Nature's  resplendent  robe  ! 

Without  whose  vesting  beauty  all  were  wrapt 

In  unessential  gloom  ;  and  thou,  0  Sun  ! 

Soul  of  surrounding  worlds  !  in  whom  best  seen 

Shines  out  thy  Maker  !  may  I  sing  of  thee? 


'T  is  by  thy  secret,  strong,  attractive  force, 
As  with  a  chain  indissoluble  bound, 
Thy  system  rolls  entire  :  from  the  far  bourn 
Of  utmost  Saturn,  wheeling  wide  his  round 
Of  thirty  years,  to  Mercury,  whose  disk 
Can  scarce  be  caught  by  philosophic  eye. 
Lost  in  the  near  effulgence  of  thy  blaze. 

Informer  of  the  planetary  train  !  [orbs 

Without  whose  quickening  glance   their  cumbrous 
Were  brute  unlovely  mass,  inert  and  dead, 
And  not,  as  now,  the  green  abodes  of  life  ! 
How  many  forms  of  being  wait  on  thee, 
Inhaling  spirit  ;   from  the  unfettered  mind. 
By  thee  sublimed,  down  to  the  daily  race. 
The  mixing  myriads  of  thy  setting  beam  ! 


THE     SUN     THE 


OF     VEGETATION 


The  vegetable  world  is  also  thine. 
Parent  of  Seasons  !  who  the  pomp  precede 
That  waits  thy  throne,  as  through  thy  vast  domaii 
Annual,  along  the  bright  ecliptic  road. 
In  world-rejoicing  state,  it  moves  sublime. 
Meantime  the  expecting  nations,  circled  gay 
With  all  the  various  tribes  of  foodful  earth. 
Implore  thy  bounty,  or  send  grateful  up 
A  common  hymn  :  while,  round  thy  beaming  car, 
High  seen,  the  Seasons  lead,  in  sprightly  dance 
Harmonious  knit,  the  rosy-fingered  Hours, 
The  Zephyrs  floating  loose,  the  timely  Rains, 
Of  bloom  ethereal  the  light-footed  Dews, 
And  softened  into  joy  the  surly  Storms. 
These,  in  successive  turn,  with  lavish  hand, 
Shower  every  beauty,  every  fragrance  shower. 
Herbs,  flowers,  and  fruits  ;  till  kindling  at  thy  toucl; 
From  land  to  land  is  flushed  the  vernal  year. 


Nor  to  the  surface  of  enlivened  earth. 
Graceful  with  hills  and  dales,  and  leafy  woods, 


SUMMER  —  JUNE. 


187 


Her  liberal  tresses,  is  thy  force  confined  ; 
But,  to  the  bowoUed  cavom  darting  deep, 
The  mineral  Itinds  confess  thy  mighty  power. 
Effulgent,  hence  the  veiny  marble  sliinos  ; 
Iloncc  Labor  draws  bis  tools  ;  hcnoo  burnished  War 
Gleams  on  the  day  ;  the  nobler  works  of  Peace 
Honoe  bless  mankind,  and  generous  Commerce  binds 
The  round  of  nations  in  a  golden  chain. 


The  unfruitful  rock  itself,  improgned  by  thee, 
In  dark  retirement  forms  the  lucid  stone. 
The  lively  diamond  drinks  thy  purest  rays. 
Collected  light,  compact  ;   that,  polished  bright, 
And  all  its  native  lustre  let  abroad, 
Dares,  as  it  sparkles  on  the  fair  one's  breast, 
With  vain  ambition  emulate  her  eyes. 
At  thee,  the  ruby  lights  its  deepuning  glow. 
And  with  a  waving  radiance  inward  llames. 
From  thee  the  sapphire,  solid  ether,  takes 
Its  hue  cerulean  ;  and,  of  evening  tinct, 
The  purple-streaming  amethyst  is  thine. 
With  thy  own  smile  the  yellow  topaz  burns. 
Nor  deeper  verdure  dyes  the  robe  of  Spring, 
MTion  first  she  gives  it  to  the  southern  gale. 
Than  the  green  emerald  shows.     But,  all  combined, 
Thick  through  the  whitening  opal  play  thy  beams  ; 
Or,  flying  several  from  its  surface,  form 
A  trembling  variance  of  revolving  hues, 
As  the  site  varies  in  the  gazer's  hand. 

THE  EPFSCT3  OP  SraLIOOT  OS  STnE.\MS,  BOCKS,  OCEiS. 

The  very  dead  creation,  from  thy  touch, 
Assumes  a  mimic  life.     By  thee  refined, 
In  brighter  mazes  the  relucent  stream 
Plays  o'er  the  mead.     The  precipice  abrupt, 
Projecting  horror  on  the  blackened  flood, 
Softens  at  thy  return.     The  desert  joys. 
Wildly,  through  all  his  melancholy  bounds. 
Kude  ruins  glitter  ;  and  the  briny  deep, 
Seen  from  some  pointed 'promontory's  top, 
Far  to  the  blue  horizon's  utmost  verge, 
Restless,  reflects  a  floating  gleam.     But  this, 
And  all  the  much-transported  Muse  can  sing, 
.Arc  to  thy  beauty,  dignity,  and  use, 
t'nequal  far  ;  great  delegated  Source 
Of  light,  and  life,  and  grace,  and  joy  below  ! 


IIow  shall  I  then  attempt  to  sing  of  Him  ! 
Who,  light  Himself,  in  uncreated  light 
Invested  deep,  dwells  awfully  retired 
From  mortal  eye  or  angel's  purer  ken, 
Whose  single  smile  has,  from  the  first  of  time, 
Filled,  overflowing,  all  those  lamps  of  heaven. 
That  beam  forever  through  the  boundless  sky  : 
Bnt,  should  Ho  hide  his  face,  the  astonished  sun, 
And  all  the  extinguished  stars,  would  loosening  reel 
Wide  from  their  spheres,  and  chaos  come  again. 


PRAISE  TO  THE  ALHiaHTT  PATnuil.  —  DELIOH 

And  yet  was  every  faltering  tongue  of  man, 
Almiohty  Father  !  silent  in  tliy  praise. 
Thy  works  themselves  would  raise  a  general  voi( 
E'en  in  the  depths  of  solitary  woods 
By  human  foot  untrod  ;  proclaim  thy  power, 
And  to  the  choir  celestial  Thee  resound. 
The  eternal  cause,  support,  and  end  of  all ! 

To  me  bo  Nature's  volume  broad-displayed  ; 
And  to  peruse  its  all-in.<tructing  page, 
Or,  haply  catching  inspiration  thence. 
Some  easy  passage,  raptured,  to  translate. 
My  sole  delight ;  as  through  the  falling  glooms 
Pensive  I  stray,  or  with  the  rising  dawn 
On  Fancy's  eagle-wing,  excursive,  soar. 

—  flowehs  wiltiso  like  a  feve 


Now,  flaming  up  the  heavens,  the  potent  sun 
Melts  into  limpid  air  the  high-raised  clouds. 
And  morning  fogs,  that  hovered  round  the  hills 
In  parti-colored  bands  :  till  wide  unveiled 
The  face  of  Nature  shines,  from  whore  earth  seems, 
Far-stretehed  around,  to  meet  the  bending  sphere. 

Half  in  a  blush  of  clustering  roses  lost. 
Dew-dropping  Coolness  to  the  shade  retires  ; 
There,  on  the  verdant  turf,  or  flowery  bed, 
By  gfliil  tnimt-  Hint  rarcless  rills  to  muse  ; 
Wbiif  u  I, ml  llrit,  .|i-|. reading  through  the  sky. 
With  i.i|.)'l    nay.  In-  liurning  influence  darts 
On  m;iu,  luiil  Ijtitoi.  miJ  herb,  and  tepid  stream. 

Who  can  unpitying  see  the  flowery  race, 
Shod  by  the  mom,  their  new-flushed  bloom  resign 
Before  the  parting  beam  ?  so  fade  the  fair. 
When  fevers  revel  through  their  azure  veins. 
But  one,  the  lofty  follower  of  the  sun, 
Sad  when  he  sets,  shuts  up  her  yellow  leaves, 
Drooping  all  night ;  and,  when  he  warm  returns. 
Points  her  enamored  bosom  to  his  ray. 


prepakations  I 


I  MAGPIE  ;  SUADE  OF  GRAY  OAKS  ; 


Home,  from  his  morning  task,  the  swain  retreats; 
His  flock  before  bim  stepping  to  the  fold  : 
AVhilc  the  full-uddered  mother  lows  around 
The  cheerful  cottage,  then  expecting  food, 
The  food  of  innocence  and  health  !     The  daw. 
The  rook,  and  magpie,  to  the  gray-grown  oaks 
That  tlic  calm  village  in  their  verdant  arms. 
Sheltering,  embrace,  direct  their  laiy  flight ; 
Where  on  the  mingling  boughs  they  sit  embowered, 
All  the  hot  noon,  till  cooler  hours  arise. 
Faint,  underneath,  the  household  fowls  convene  ; 
And,  in  a  comer  of  the  buzzing  shade, 
The  house-dog,  with  the  vacant  greyhound,  lies. 
Outstretched  and  sleepy.     In  his  slumbers  one 
Attacks  the  nightly  thief,  and  ono  exults 
O'er  hill  and  dale  ;  till,  wokened  by  the  wasp. 
They  starting  snap.     Nor  shall  the  Muse  disdain 
To  let  the  little  noisy  summer  race 
Live  in  her  lay,  ifhd  flutter  through  her  song  : 


138 


RURAL    POETRY. - 


JMot  mean,  though  simple  :  to  the  sun  allied, 
From  him  they  draw  their  animating  fire. 


SUMMER  INSECTS. - 


■  ray,  the  reptile  young 


Waked  by  his  ■ 
Come  winged  abroad  ;  by  the  light  air  upborne, 
Lighter,  and  full  of  soul.     From  every  chink 
And  secret  corner,  where  they  slept  away 
The  wintry  storms  ;  or  rising  from  their  tombs. 
To  higher  life,  by  myriads,  forth  at  once. 
Swarming  they  pour  ;  of  all  the  varied  hues 
Their  beauty-beaming  parent  can  disclose. 
Ten  thousand  forms,  ten  thousand  different  tribes. 
People  the  blaze.     To  sunny  waters  some      . 
By  fatal  instinct  fly  ;  where  on  the  pool 
They,  sportive,  wheel  ;  or,  sailing  down  the  stream. 
Are  snatched  immediate  by  the  quick-eyed  trout. 
Or  darting  salmmi.     Through  the  green-wood  glade 
Some  love  to  rtniv  ;   llniv  In.l:;,.,!,  amused,  and  fed. 
In  the  fresh  k-;]  I .      I.iimiimn  ,  .-ihprs  make 
The  meads  tht'ir  rlh,],,,  ;im,{  vj-it  ijvery  flower. 
And  every  latent  laib  ;  tin  ihv  .sweet  task. 
To  propagate  their  kinds,  and  where  to  wrap, 
In  what  soft  beds,  their  young  yet  undisclosed. 
Employs  their  t.'ii.lcr  care.     Some  to  the  house. 


The 


:ht  ; 


With  powerless  wings  around  them  wrapt,  expire. 

A   DESCRIPTION   OF  THE    SProEB,  HIS  HUNTIXO  AND  HIS  PRET 

But  chief  to  heedless  flies  the  window  proves 
A  constant  death  ;  where,  gloomily  retired. 
The  villain  spider  lives,  cunning  and  fierce, 
Mixture  abhorred  !     Amid  a  mangled  heap 
Of  carcasses,  in  eager  watch  he  sits, 
O'crlooking  all  his  waving  snares  around. 
Near  the  dire  cell  the  dreadless  wanderer  oft 
Passes,  as  oft  the  ruffian  shows  his  front ; 
The  prey  at  last  ensnared,  he  dreadful  darts. 
With  rapid  glide,  ab.ng  the  loaning  line  ; 
And,  ti\!ii-  111  111,'  iiHtili  lii-  cnicl  fanss. 


liivi.iiiiiN  llir  liMii-  -ml: I'  (he  ground  : 

Or  drowsy  shepherd,  as  lie  lies  reclined, 

With  half-shut  eyes,  beneath  the  floating  shade 

Of  willows  gray,  close-crowding  o'er  the  brook. 


Gradual,  from  these  what  numerous  kinds  descend, 
Evading  e'en  the  microscopic  eye  ! 
Full  Nature  swarms  with  life  ;  one  wondrous  mass 
Of  animals,  or  atoms  organized, 
Waiting  the  vital  breath,  when  PiJrent  Heaven 


Shall  bid  his  spirit  blow.     The  hoary  fen. 
In  putrid  streams,  emits  the  living  cloud 
Of  pestilence.     Through  subterranean  cells, 
Where  searching  sunbeams  scarce  can  find  a  way, 

Enrth.nnimntn-lhri,,,,..     Thv  n.i„,,v  leaf 


That  dance  unnumbered  to  the  playful  breeze. 

The  downy  orchard,  and  the  melting  pulp 

Of  mellow  fruit,  the  nameless  nations  feed 

Of  evanescent  insects.     Where  the  pool 

Stands  mantled  o'er  with  green,  invisible 

Amid  the  floating  verdure  millions  stray. 

Each  liquid,  too,  whether  it  pierces,  soothes. 

Inflames,  refreshes,  or  exalts  the  taste. 

With  various  forms  abounds.     Nor  is  the  stream 

Of  purest  crystal,  nor  the  lucid  air, 

Though  one  transparent  vacancy  it  seems. 

Void  of  their  unseen  people.     These,  concealed 

By  the  kind  art  of  forming  Heaven,  escape 

The  grosser  eye  of  man  ;   for,  if  the  wurlds 

In  worlds  enclosed  sb..ul,i  im  Iji-  -in-,  s  burst. 

From  cates  ambrosial,  ami  tin'  utiiaiid  bowl, 

He  would  abhorrent  turn,  ami  in  diad  night. 

When  silence  sleeps  o'er  all,  be  stunned  with  noise. 

MAN'S 


"gs, 


Let  no  presuming  impious  railer  tax 
Creative  Wisdom,  as  if  aught  was  formed 
In  vain,  or  not  for  admirable  ends. 
Shall  little  haughty  Ignorance  pronounce 
His  works  unwise,  of  which  the  smallest  part 
Exceeds  the  narrow  vision  of  her  mind  ? 
As  if  upon  a  full-proportioned  dome. 
On  swelling  columns  heaved,  the  pride  of  art, 
A  critic-fly,  whose  feeble  ray  scarce  spreads 
An  inch  around,  with  blind  presumption  bold. 
Should  dare  to  tax  the  strncture  of  the  whole. 
And  lives  the  man,  whose  universal  eye 
Has  swept  at  oiiro  the  unbounded  scheme  of  th 

Marked  tli.ii  ■{■■, I,  i,.  r  -,,,  and  firm  accord, 

As  with  u II I  I  i ,11,1  conclude 

Thatthisa    ,,        _!,,  •     lias  any  seen 

The  migiil\  ,i.,uii  .,l  li^mg-^,  lessening  down 
From  Infinite  Perfection  to  the  brink 
Of  dreary  nothing,  desolate  abyss  ! 
From  which  astonished  thought,  recoiling,  turns  ? 
Till  then  alone  let  zealous  praise  ascend. 
And  hymns  of  holy  wonder,  to  that  Power 
Whose  wisdom  shines  as  lovely  on  our  minds, 
As  on  our  smiling  eyes  his  servant-sun. 

FATE  OF  INSECTS  AND   MAN.  ' 

Thick  in  yon  stream  of  light,  a  thousand  ways. 
Upward,  and  downward,  thwarting,  and  convolved, 
The  quivering  nations  sport ;  till,  tempest-winged. 
Fierce  Winter  sweeps  them  from  the  face  of  day. 
E'en  so  luxurious  men,  unheeding,  pass 


SUMMER  —  JDNB. 


139 


An  idle  summer  life  in  fortune's  shine, 
A  season's  glitter  !    Thus  they  flutter  on 
From  toy  to  toy,  from  vanity  to  vice  j 
Tin,  blown  away  by  death,  oblivion  comes 
Behind,  and  strikes  them  from  the  book  of  life. 
dat-uaking;  vorrns ;  maidrss  ;  ciiiLDnooo  and  agb.- 

UOWING  AND  TENDING.  ~80\'GS. 

Now  swarms  the  village  o'er  the  jovial  mead  ; 
The  rustic  youth,  brown  with  meridian  toil. 
Healthful  and  strong  ;  full  as  the  summer-rose 
Blowu  by  prevailing  suns,  the  ruddy  maid, 
Half  naked,  swelling  on  the  sight,  and  all 
Her  kindled  graces  burning  o'er  her  cheek. 
E'en  stooping  age  is  here  ;  and  infant-hands 
Trail  the  long  rake,  or,  with  the  fragrant  load 
O'crcharged,  amid  the  kind  oppression  roll. 
Wide  flics  the  tedded  grain  ;  all  in  a  row 
Advancing  broad,  or  wheeling  round  the  field. 
They  spread  the  breathing  harvest  to  the  sun. 
That  throws  refreshful  round  a  rural  smell  : 
Or,  as  they  rake  the  green-appearing  ground. 
And  drive  the  dusky  wave  along  the  mead. 
The  russet  hay-cock  rises  thick  behind. 
In  order  gay.     While  heard  from  dale  to  dale, 
Waking  the  breeze,  resounds  the  blended  voice 
Of  happy  labor,  love,  and  social  glee. 


Or  rushing  thence,  in  one  difl'usive  band. 
They  drive  the  troubled  flocks,  by  many  a  dog 
Compelled,  to  where  the  mazy-running  brook 
Forms  a  deep  pool  ;  this  bank  abrupt  and  high, 
And  that  fair-spreading  in  a  pebbled  shore. 
Urged  to  the  giddy  brink,  much  is  the  toil. 
The  clamor  much,  of  men,  and  boys,  and  dogs. 
Ere  the  soft,  fearful  people  to  the  flood 
Commit  their  woolly  sides.     And  oft  the  swain, 
On  some  impatient  seizing,  hurls  them  in  : 
Emboldened  then,  nor  hesitating  more, 
Fast,  fast  they  plunge  amid  the  flashing  wave, 
And,  panting,  labor  to  the  furthest  shore. 
Repeated  this,  till  deep  the  well-washed  fleece 
Has  drunk  the  flood,  and  from  his  lively  haunt 
The  trout  is  banished  by  the'  sordid  stream  ; 
Heavy,  and  dripping,  to  the  breezy  brow 
Slow  move  the  harmless  race  :  where,  as  they  spread 
Their  swelling  treasures  to  the  sunny  ray, 
Inly  disturbed,  and  wondering  what  this  wild 
Outrageous  tumult  means,  their  loud  complaints 
The  country  fill  ;  and,  tos.sed  from  rock  to  rock. 
Incessant  blcatings  run  around  the  hills. 

SUEKP-SHEABTNO  ;   MARKING  SUBBP  i  IBB  INDIGNANT  RAM.  — 


Shines  o'er  the  rest,  the  pastoral  queen,  and  rays 
Her  smiles,  sweet-beaming,  on  her  shepherd  king  ; 
While  the  glad  circle  round  them  yield  their  souls 
To  festive  mirth,  and  wit  that  knows  no  gall. 
Meantime,  their  joyous  task  goes  on  apace  : 
Some  mingling  stir  the  melted  tar,  and  some, 
Deep  on  the  new-shorn  vagrant's  heaving  side. 
To  Stamp  the  master's  cipher  ready  stand  j 
Otliers  the  unwilling  wether  drag  along  ; 
And,  glorying  in  his  might,  the  sturdy  boy 
Holds  by  the  twisted  horns  the  indignant  ram. 
Behold  where  bound,  and  of  its  robe  bereft, 
By  needy  man,  that  all-depending  lord. 
How  meek,  how  patient,  the  mild  creature  lies  ! 
What  softness  in  its  melancholy  face, 
j  \Vhat  dumb  complaining  innocence  appears  ! 
Fear  not,  ye  gentle  tribes,  't  is  not  the  knife 
Of  horrid  slaughter  that  is  o'er  you  waved  ; 
No,  't  is  the  tender  swain's  well-guidcd  shears, 
Who,  having  now,  to  pay  his  annual  care. 
Borrowed  your  fleece,  to  you  a  cumbrous  load, 
Will  send  you  bounding  to  your  hills  again. 


At  last,  of  snowy  white,  the  gathered  flocks 
Are  in  the  wattled  pen,  innumerous,  pressed. 
Head  above  head  :  and  ranged  in  lusty  rows 
The  shepherds  sit,  and  whet  the  sounding  shears. 
The  housewife  waits  to  roll  her  fleecy  stores. 
With  all  her  gay-dressed  maids  attending  round. 
One,  chief,  in  gracious  dignity  enthroned, 


A  simple  scene  !  yet  hence  Britannia  sees 
Her  solid  grandeur  rise  :  hence  she  commands 
The  exalted  stores  of  every  brighter  clime. 
The  treasures  of  the  sun  without  his  rage  : 
Hence,  fervent  all,  with  culture,  toil,  and  arts. 
Wide  glows  her  land  :  her  dreadful  thunder  hence 
Rides  o'er  the  waves  sublime,  and  now,  e'en  now. 
Impending  hangs  o'er  Gallia's  humbled  coast ; 
Hence  rules  the  circling  deep,  and  awes  the  world. 


'T  is  raging  noon  ;  and,  vertical,  the  sun 
Darts  on  the  head  direct  his  forceful  rays. 
O'er  heaven  and  earth,  far  as  the  ranging  eye 
Can  sweep,  a  dazzling  deluge  reigns  ;  and  all 
From  pule  to  polo  is  undistinguished  blaze. 
In  vain  the  sight,  dejected,  to  the  ground 
Stoops  for  relief  ;  thence  hot  ascending  steams 
And  keen  reflection  pain.     Deep  to  the  root 
Of  vegetation  parched,  the  cleaving  fields 
And  slippery  lawn  an  arid  hue  disclose. 
Blast  Fancy's  bloom,  and  wither  e'en  the  soul. 
Echo  no  more  returns  the  cheerful  sound 
Of  sharpening  scythe  :  the  mower,  sinking,  heaps 
O'er  him  the  humid  hay,  with  flowers  perfumed  ; 
And  scarce  a  chirping  grasshopper  is  heard 
Through  the  dumb  mead.     Distressful  Nature  pants. 
The  very  streams  look  languid  from  afar  ; 
Or,  through  the  unsheltered  glade,  impatient,  seem 
To  hurl  into  the  covert  of  the  grove. 

APOSTROPHE  TO    HEAT FORBST    SHADBS  AND    0BL1D  CAV- 
ERNS. —  UNDISTURBED   VIRTUE. 

AU-conquering  Heat,  0,  intermit  thy  wrath  ! 
And  on  my  throbbing  temples  potent  thus 
Beam  not  so  fierce  !  incessant  still  you  flow, 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  THOMSON. 


And  still  another  fervent  flood  succeeds, 
Poured  on  the  head  profuse.     In  vain  I  sigh, 
And  restless  turn,  and  look  around  for  night ; 
Night  is  far  off  ;  and  hotter  hours  approach. 
Thrice  happy  he  !  who  on  the  sunless  side 
Of  a  romantic  mountain,  forest-crowned, 
Beneath  the  whole  collected  shade  reclines  : 
Or  in  the  gelid  caverns,  woodbine-wrought, 
And  fresh-bedewed  with  ever-spouting  streams, 
Sits  coolly  calm  ;  while  all  the  world  without, 
Unsatisfied,  and  sick,  tosses  in  noon. 
Emblem  instructive  of'the  virtuous  man, 
"Who  keeps  his  tempered  mind  serene  and  pure. 
And  every  passion  aptly  harmonized, 
Amid  a  jarring  world  with  vice  inflamed. 


Welcome,  ye  shades  !  ye  bowery  thickets,  hail  ! 
Ye  lofty  pines  !  ye  venerable  oaks  ! 
Ye  ashes  wild,  resounding  o'er  the  steep  ! 
Delicious  is  your  shelter  to  the  soul. 
As  to  the  hunted  hart  the  sallying  spring, 
Or  stream  full-flowing,  that  his  swelling  sides 
Laves,  as  he  floats  along  the  herbaged  brink. 
Cool  through  the  nerves  your  pleasing  comfort  glides ; 
The  heart  beats  glad  ;  the  fresh-expanded  eye 
And  ear  resume  their  watch  ;  the  sinews  knit ; 
And  life  shoots  swift  through  all  the  lightened  limbs. 

A    PICTCBB    OF     FLOCKS    AND     HERDS    OS     THE    BANK    OF    A 
STREAM. — THE    OX*,     THE     SLUMBERING    HEKDSMAN  J     mS 

Around  the  adjoining  brook,  that  purls  along 
The  vocal  grove,  now  fretting  o'er  a  rock. 
Now  scarcely  moving  thrimgh  a  reedy  pool, 
Now  starting  to  a  sudden  stream,  and  now 
Gently  diffused  into  a  limpid  plain  ; 
A  various  group  the  herds  and  flocks  compose, 
Rural  confusion  !     On  the  grassy  bank 
Some  ruminating  lie  ;  while  others  stand 
Half  in  the  flood,  and  often  bending  sip 
The  circling  surface.     In  the  middle  droops 
The  strong  laborious  ox,  of  honest  front, 
AVhicii  incomposed  he  shakes  ;  and  from  his  sides 
The  troublous  insects  lashes  with  his  tail, 
Returning  still.     Amid  his  subjects  safe, 
Slumbers  the  monarch-swain  ;   his  careless  arm 
Thrown  round  his  head,  on  downy  moss  sustained  ; 
Here  laid  his  script,  with  wholesome  viands  filled  ; 
There,  listening  every  noise,  his  watchful  dog. 
Light  fly  his  slumbers,  if  perchance  a  flight 
Of  angry  gad-flies  fasten  on  the  herd, 
That  startling  scatters  from  the  shallow  brook, 
In  search  of  lavish  stream.     Tossing  the  foam. 
They  scorn  the  keeper's  voice,  and  scour  the  plain, 
Through  all  the  bright  severity  of  noon  ; 
While  from  their  laboring  breasts  a  hollow  moan 
Proceeding,  runs  low-bellowing  round  the  hills. 


Oft  in  this  season 


mS   PLCNGE  INTO   THE  RIVE 

30  the  horse,  provoked, 


While  his  big  sinews  full  of  spirits  swell, 
Trembling  with  vigor,  in  the  heat  of  blood, 
Springs  the  high  fence  ;  and  o'er  the  field  effused. 
Darts  on  the  gloomy  iBood,  with  steadfast  eye, 
And  heart  estranged  to  fear  :  his  nervous  chest, 
Luxuriant,  and  erect,  the  seat  of  strength  ! 
Bears  down  the  opposing  stream  ;   quenchless  his 
He  takes  the  river  at  redoubled  draughts,     [thirst  : 
And  with  wide  nostrils,  snorting,  skims  the  wave. 


Still  let  mo  pierce  into  the  midnight  depth 
Of  yonder  grove,  of  wildest,  largest  growth  ; 
That,  forming  high  in  air  a  woodland  choir, 
Nods  o'er  the  mount  beneath.     At  every  step, 
Solemn  and  slow,  the  shadows  blacker  fall. 
And  all  is  awful  listening  gloom  around. 

These  are  the  haunts  of  Meditation,  these 
The  scenes  where  ancient  bards  the  inspiring  breath. 
Ecstatic,  felt  ;  and,  from  this  world  retired. 
Conversed  with  angels,  and  immortal  forms, 
On  gracious  errands  bent ;  to  save  the  fall 
Of  virtue  struggling  on  the  brink  of  vice  ; 
In  waking  whispers,  and  repeated  dreams, 
To  hint  pure  thought,  and  warn  the  favored  soul 
For  future  trials  fated  to  prepare  ; 
To  prompt  the  poet,  who  devoted  gives 
His  muse  to  better  themes  ;  to  soothe  the  pangs 
Of  dying  worth,  and  from  the  patriot's  breast 
(Backward  to  mingle  in  detested  war, 
But  foremost  when  engaged)  to  turn  the  death  ; 
And  numberless  such  offices  of  love, 
Daily,  and  nightly,  zealous  to  perform. 


Shook  su>M.  n  n-.in  !lir  !M,.ni,i  of  the  sky, 
Athousniiil       I  :i     .1  til  wart  the  dusk, 

Or  stalk  inai.    !-      i.       I '<    i -i-iised,  I  feel 
A  sacred  tt-i  i-i ,  ;i  .-'-\-  i  ■■  iNli-ht, 
Creep  through  my  mortal  frame  ;  and  thus,  methinks, 
A  voice,  than  human  more,  the  abstracted  ear 
Of  Fancy  strikes.     '  Be  not  of  us  afraid. 
Poor  kindred  man  !  thy  fellow-creatures,  we 
From  the  same  Parent-power  our  beings  drew, 
The  same  our  Lord,  and  laws,  and  great  piirsuit. 
Once  some  of  us,  like  thee,  through  stormy  life, 
Toiled,  tempest-beaten,  ere  we  could  attain 
This  holy  calm,  this  harmony  of  mind, 
Where  purity  and  peace  immingle  charms. 
Then  fear  not  us  ;  but  with  responsive  song, 
Amid  these  dim  recesses,  undisturbed 
By  noisy  folly  and  discordant  vice. 
Of  nature  sing  with  us,  and  nature's  God. 
Here  frequent,  at  the  visionary  hour, 
When  musing  midnight  reigns,  or  silent  noon, 
Angelic  harps  are  in  full  concert  heard, 
And  voices  chanting  from  the  wood-crowned  hill. 
The  deepening  dale,  or  inmost  sylvan  ghide  : 
A  privilege  bestowed  by  us,  alone, 


SUMMER  —  JUNE. 


On  Contemplation,  or  the  hallowed  i 
Of  poot,  swelling  to  seraphic  strain.' 


And  art  thou,  Stanley,'  of  that  sacred  band  ? 
Alas,  for  us  so  soon  !  though  raised  above 
The  reach  of  human  pain,  above  the  flight 
Of  human  joy  ;  yet,  with  a  mingled  ray 
Of  sadly  pleased  remembrance,  must  thou  feel 
A  mother's  love,  a  mother's  tender  woo, 
Who  seeks  thee  still,  in  many  a  former  scene  ; 
Seeks  thy  fair  form,  thy  lovely  beaming  eyes, 
Thy  pleasing  converse,  by  gay,  lively  sense 
Inspired,  where  moral  wisdom  mildly  shone 
Without  the  toil  of  art ;  and  virtue  glowed. 
In  all  her  smiles,  without  forbidding  pride. 
But,  0  thou  best  of  parenta  !  wipe  thy  tears  ; 
Or  rather  to  Parental  Xaturo  pay 
The  tears  of  grateful  joy,  who  for  a  while 
Lent  thee  this  younger  self,  this  opening  bloom 
Of  thy  enlightened  mind  and  gentle  worth. 
Believe  the  muse  :  the  wintry  blast  of  death 
Kills  not  the  buds  of  virtue  ;  no,  they  spread. 
Beneath  the  heavenly  beam  of  brighter  suns, 
Through  endless  ages,  into  higher  powers. 


Thus  up  the  mount,  in  airy  vision  rapt, 
I  stray,  regardless  whither,  till  the  sound 
Of  a  near  fall  of  water  every  sense  [back, 

Wakes  from  the  charm  of  thought :  swift-shrinking 
I  check  my  steps,  and  view  the  brokon  scene. 

Smooth  to  the  shi  hill-  liinl.   i      li^us  flood 
Rolls  fair  and  placi.  Li  i    i   ill. 

In  one  impetuous  t' ill'    !     >■■■-..  :• 'p 

It  thundering  shoot-s  ^md  ;liik-     ilr  'nuntry  round. 
At  flrst,  an  azure  sheet,  it  rushes  broad  ; 
Then  whitening  by  degrees,  as  prone  it  falls. 
And,  from  the  loud-resounding  rocks  below, 
Dashed  in  a  cloud  of  foam,  it  sends  aloft 
A  hoary  mist,  and  forms  a  ceaseless  shower. 
Nor  can  the  tortured  wave  here  find  repose  ; 
But,  raging  still  amid  the  shaggy  rocks. 
Now  flashes  o'er  the  scattered  fragments,  now 
Aslant  the  hollowed  channel  rapid  darts  ; 
And  falling  fast  from  gradual  slope  to  slope. 
With  wild  infracted  course  and  lessened  roar. 
It  gains  a  safer  bed,  and  steals,  at  last. 
Along  the  mazes  of  the  quiet  vale. 


Invited  from  the  cliff,  to  whoso  dark  brow 
Ho  clings,  the  steep-ascending  eagle  soars. 
With  upward  pinions,  through  the  flood  of  day  ; 
And,  giving  full  his  bosom  to  the  blaze, 
Gains  on  the  sun  ;  while  all  the  tuneful  race, 
Smit  by  afSiotive  noon,  disordered  droop, 

I  the  aulbor,  who  died  at  the 


Deep  in  the  thiokot ;  or,  from  bower  to  bower 
Responsive,  force  an  interrupted  strain. 
The  stock-dove  only  through  the  forest  cooa, 
Mournfully  hoarse  ;  oft  ceasing  from  bia  plaint, 
Short  interval  of  weary  woo  !  again 
The  sad  idea  of  his  murdered  mate. 
Struck  from  his  side  by  savago  fowler's  guile, 
Across  his  fancy  comes  ;  and  then  resounds 
A  louder  song  of  sorrow  tlirough  the  grovo. 


Beside  the  dewy  border  let  me  sit, 
All  in  the  freshness  of  the  humid  air  ; 
There  in  that  hollowed  rock,  grotesque  and  wild, 
An  ample  chair  moss-lined,  and  over  head 
By  flowering  umbrage  shaded  ;  whore  the  bee 
Strays  diligent,  and  with  the  extracted  balm 
Of  fragrant  woodbine  loads  his  little  thigh. 

Now,  while  I  ta-i.   il,,   .„.,  tn.  -s  of  the  shade, 

While  nature  li.  -  :m I  -K  r,    lulkd  in  noon, 

Now  come,  bold  I  ;ni.  >  ,    |i    i  I  ;.  .hiring  flight. 
And  view  the  wuiidcii  ul  tin.  t  riid  zone  : 
Climes  unrelenting  !  with  whoso  rage  compared 
Yon  blaze  is  feeble,  and  yon  skies  are  cool. 


See,  how  at  once  the  bright-effulgent  sun. 
Rising  direct,  swift  chases  from  the  sky 
The  short-lived  twilight,  and  with  ardent  blaze 
Looks  gayly  fierce  through  all  the  dazzling  air  : 
He  mounts  his  throne  ;  hut  kind  before  him  sends, 
Issuing  from  out  the  portals  of  the  mom. 
The  general  breeze,'  to  mitigate  his  fire 
And  breathe  refreshment  on  a  fainting  world. 
Great  are  the  scenes,  with  dreadful  beauty  crowned 
And  barbarous  wealth,  that  see,  each  circling  year, 
Returning  suns  and  double  seasons  pass  ;' 
Rocks  rich  in  gems,  and  mountains  big  with,  mines. 
That  on  the  high  equator  ridgy  rise, 
Whence  many  a  bursting  stream  auriferous  plays  : 
Majestic  woods,  of  every  vigorous  green, 
Stage  above  stage,  high-waving  o'er  the  hills  ; 
Or  to  the  far  horizon  wide  diffused, 
A  boundless  deep  immensity  of  shadQ,. 
Here  lofty  trees,  to  ancient  song  unknown. 
The  noble  sons  of  potent  heat  and  floods 
Prone-rushing  from  the  clouds,  rear  high  to  heaven 
Their  thorny  stems,  and  broad  around  them  throw 
Meridian  gloom.     Here,  in  eternal  prime. 
Unnumbered  fruits,  of  keen  delicious  taste 
And  vital  spirit,  drink  amid  the  cliffs. 
And  burning  sands  that  bank  the  shrubby  vales, 

1  Which  blows  constantly  between  the  tropics  from  the 
east,  or  the  collatcrat  points,  the  north-enst  and  south-east : 
cnusud  hy  the  pressure  of  air  towards  the  ^pace  rarefied 
progressively  beneath  the  sun's  rays,  thus  followini;  his  diur- 


KURAL    POETRY. THOMSON. 


Redoubled  day,  yet  in  their  rugged  coats 
A  friendly  juice  to  cool  its  rage  contain. 


Bear  me,  Pomona,  to  thy  citron  groves. 
To  where  the  lemon  and  the  piercing  lime. 
With  the  deep  orange,  glowing  through  the  green, 
Their  lighter  glories  blend.     Lay  me  reclined 
Beneath  thy  .spreading  tamarind,  that  shakes, 
Fanned  by  the  breeze,  its  fever-cooling  fruit. 
Deep  in  the  night  the  massy  locust  sheds 
Quench  my  hot  limbs  ;  or  lead  me  through  the  maze. 
Embowering  endless,  of  the  Indian  fig  ; 
Or,  thrown  at  gayer  ease  on  some  fair  brow. 
Let  me  behold,  by  breezy  murmurs  cooled, 
Broad  o*er  my  head  the  verdant  cedar  wave. 
And  high  palmettos  lift  their  graceful  shade. 
Or,  stretched  amid  ttipso  orclinrds  of  the  sun, 

Give  me  to  drain  tli ii'-  mills-y  bowl. 

And  from  the  tiilm  tn  iluiw  ii-  IVcshening  wine, 

Whii-h  [:,i  '  liii    !■  in-'     Xur,  on  its  slender  twigs 
Lo\v-ii'  '  u II  pomegranate  scorned  ; 

Nor,  i  I.  .  ;  1,1  :  I  ,1 .  ,i_:i  the  woods,  the  gelid  race 
Of  b.iip  ■      I'll  III  iiiiiiible  station  dwells 
Unbiii.-iiiil  u..  I  I'll,  a  I  "He  fastidious  pomp. 
Witiir--,  ilinii  lir-i  an, Ilia,  thou  the  pride 
Of  vi'^.talilr  lilr,  bryoiid  whate'er 
The  poets  imaged  iu  the  golden  age  : 
Quick  let  me  strip  thee  of  thy  tufty  coat. 
Spread  thy  ambrosial  stores,  and  feast  with  Jove. 


From  these  the  prospect  varies.    Plains  immense 
Lie  stretched  below,  interminable  meads, 
And  vast  savannas,  where  the  wandering  eye, 
Unfixed,  is  iu  a  verdant  ocean  lost. 
Another  Flora  there,  of  bolder  hues. 
And  richer  sweets,  beyond  our  garden's  pride. 
Plays  o'er  the  fields,  and  showers  with  sudden  hand 
Exuberant  Spring  ;  for  oft  these  valleys  shift 
Their  green-embroidered  robe  to  fiery  brown, 
And  swift  to  green  again,  as  scorching  suns. 
Or  streaming  dews  and  torrent  rains,  prevail. 

THE  SOLITCDES   OF  THE  TROPICS.— 


Along  those  lonely  regions,  where,  retired 
From  little  scenes  of  art,  great  Nature  dwells 
In  awful  solitude,  and  naught  is  seen 

But  till-  wiM  lirnis  that  own  no  master's  stall, 
Prodii^iiiii-  ri\.r--inll  their  fattening  seas, 

On  Willi--  !mmu  iiuit  la  iliagc,  h;llf-eonPO!lled, 

Lika  a    l.ill.  I.   -•!,|.  I  ii-.lilTii-i-'I  lii-   I, all,, 
Casail   ,1,    ...       I,          !-        I     .  I     .    .      I    -, 

The  111"   i  .  .  |ai:  ■      .    .--  '      i  -,   II 

BehiaiailJi   nai-   In-   laail         i:i, i.il    liMluljl.-  .,1 

The  darted  steel  iu  idle  shivers  files  ; 

He  feoi-lcss  walks  the  plain,  or  seeks  the  hills. 

Where,  as  he  crops  his  varied  fare,  the  herds, 


In  widening  circle  round,  forget  their  food, 
And  at  the  harmless  stranger  wondering  gaze. 

THE   ELEPHANf.  —  NIGER.  —  GANGES. 

Peaceful,  beneath  primeval  trees,  that  cast 
Their  ample  shade  o'er  Niger's  yellow  stream. 
And  where  the  Ganges  rolls  his  sacred  wave  ; 
Or  'mid  the  central  depth  of  blackening  woods. 
High-raised  in  solemn  theatre  around. 
Leans  the  huge  elephant  :  wisest  of  brutes  ! 
0  truly  wise,  with  gentle  might  endowed. 
Though  powerful,  not  destructive  !     Here  he  sees 
Revolving  ages  sweep  the  changeful  earth. 
And  empires  rise  and  fall  ;  regardless  he 
Of  what  the  never-resting  race  of  men 
Project  :  thrice  happy  !  could  he  'scape  their  guile 
Who  mine,  from  cruel  avarice,  his  steps  ; 
Or  with  his  towery  grandeur  swell  their  state. 
The  pride  of  kings  !  or  else  his  strength  pervert, 
And  bid  him  rage  amid  the  mortal  fray, 
Astonished  at  the  madness  of  mankind. 


Wide  o'er  the  winding  umbrage  of  the  floods, 
Like  vivid  blossoms  glowing  from  afar. 
Thick  swarm  the  brighter  birds  ;  for  Nature's  ha 
That  with  a  sportive  vanity  has  decked 
The  plumy  nations,  there  her  gayest  hues 
Profusely  pours.     But,  if  she  bids  them  shine. 
Arrayed  in  all  the  beauteous  beams  of  day. 
Yet,  frugal  still,  she  humbles  them  in  song.^ 
Nor  envy  we  the  gaudy  robes  they  lent 
Proud  Montezuma's  realm,  whose  legions  cast 
A  boundless  radiance  waving  on  the  sun. 
While  Philomel  is  ours  ;  while  in  our  shades, 
Through  the  soft  silence  of  the  listening  night, 
The  sober-suited  songstress  trills  her  lay. 


But  come,  my  muse,  the  desert-barrier  burst, 
A  wild  expanse  of  lifeless  sand  and  sky. 
And,  swifter  than  the  toiling  caravan. 
Shoot  o'er  the  vale  of  Sennar,  ardent  climb 
The  Nubian  mountains,  and  the  secret  bounds 
Of  jealous  Abyssinia  boldly  pierce. 
Thou  art  no  ruffian,  who  beneath  the  mask 
Of  -".ial  r.iiimiaMi-  ai.iiia.t  t"  1 1 -I i  tlair  wealth; 


Aiiit  tiiiMuah  till-  land,  yrt  rnl  IVam  i-i\il  wounds. 
To  spread  the  purple  tyranny  of  Homo. 
Thou,  like  the  harmless  bee,  may'st  freely  range 
Finui  mead  to  mead  bright  with  exalted  flowers, 

rn.iii  ia-niilir  -ri.va  In  ;;i,im.  iiiayVt  wander  gay. 


i-d  hills, 


1  In  all  the  regions  of  the  torrid  : 
more  beautiful  iu  their  plumage,  d 
melodious  than  ours. 


SUMMER  —  JUNE. 


There  on  the  breezy  summit,  spreading  fair 
For  many  a  league  ;  or  on  stupendous  rooks, 
That  from  the  sun-redoubling  valley  lift, 
Cool  to  the  middle  air,  their  lawny  toi)3  ; 
AVbcre  palaces,  and  fanes,  and  villas  rise  ; 
And  gardens  smile  around,  and  cultured  fields  ; 
And  fountains  gush  ;  and  careless  herds  and  flocks 
Securely  stray  ;  a  world  within  itself. 
Disdaining  all  assault :  there  let  me  draw 
Ethereal  soul,  there  drink  reviving  gales. 
Profusely  breatliing  from  the  spicy  groves, 
And  vales  of  fragrance  ;  there  at  distance  hear 
The  roaring  floods  and  cataracts,  that  sweep 
From  disembowelled  earth  the  virgin  gold  ; 
And  o'er  the  varied  landscape,  restless,  rove, 
Fervent  with  life  of  every  fairer  kind  : 
A  land  of  wonders  !   which  the  sun  still  eyes 
AVith  ray  direct,  as  of  the  lovely  realm 
Enamored,  and  deligliting  there  to  dwell. 


tREMENDOUS  SnoWKBS  OF  THE  TROPICS.  —  TERRIFIC  TIIU.S-- 
DBR  AND   UOHTNINO. 

How  changed  the  scene  !    In  blazing  height  of 

The  sun,  oppressed,  is  plunged  in  thickest  gloom. 

Still  horror  reigns,  a  dreary  twilight  round 

Of  struggling  night  and  day  malignant  mixed. 

For  to  the  hot  equator  crowding  fast, 

Where,  highly  rarefied,  the  yielding  air 

Admits  their  stream,  incessant  vapors  roll, 

Amazing  clouds  on  clouds  continual  heaped  ; 

Or  whirled  tempestuous  by  the  gusty  wind, 

Or  silent  borne  along,  heavy,  and  slow, 

With  the  big  stores  of  steaming  oceans  charged. 

Meantime,  amid  these  upper  seas,  condensed 

Around  the  cold  aerial  mountain's  brow, 

And  by  conflicting  winds  together  dashed. 

The  thunder  holds  his  black  tremendous  throne  : 

From  cloud  to  cloud  the  rending  lightnings  rage  ; 

Till,  in  the  furious  elemental  war 

Dissolved,  the  whole  precipitated  mass 

Unbroken  floods  and  solid  torrents  pours. 


The  treasures  these,  hid  from  the  bounded  search 
Of  ancient  knowledge,  whence,  with  annual  pomp, 
Rich  king  of  floods  !  o'erflows  the  swelling  Nile. 
From  his  two  springs,  in  (iojain's  sunny  realm. 
Pure-welling  out,'  he  through  the  lucid  lake 
Of  fair  Damboa  rolls  his  infant  stream. 
There,  by  the  Naiiids  nursed,  ho  sports  away 
His  playful  youth,  amid  the  fragrant  isles, 
That  with  unfading  verdure  smile  around. 
Ambitious,  thence  the  manly  river  breaks  ; 
And  gathering  many  a  flood,  and  copious  fed 
With  all  the  mellowed  treasures  of  the  sky, 
Winds  in  progressive  majesty  along  : 
Through  splendid  kingdoms  now  devolves  his  maze. 
Now  wanders  wild  o'er  solitary  tracts 
Of  life-deserted  sand  ;  till  glad  to  quit 

1  Another  branch  rises  south  of  the  equator. 


The  joyless  desert,  down  the  Nubian  rooks, 
From  thundering  stoop  to  steep,  ho  pours  hii 
And  Egypt  joys  beneath  the  spreading  wave 

THE    NIOER,  AND   RIVERS  OF  THE   BAST. — MKNAH. - 

llis  brother  Niger  too,  and  all  the  floods 
In  which  the  full-formed  maids  of  Ai'ric  hivi 
Their  jetty  limbs  ;  and  all  that  from  the  tra 
Of  woody  mountains  stretched  through  gorge 
Fall  on  Cor'mandel's  coast,  or  Malabar  ; 
From  iMenam's'  orient  stream,  that  nightly  shines 
With  insect  lamps,  to  where  Aurora  sheds 
On  Indus'  smiling  banks  the  rosy  shower  ; 
All,  at  this  bounteous  season,  ope  their  urns. 
And  pour  untoiling  harvest  o'er  the  land. 


Ind 


ZON  ;    PLATA   AND   OTUSR   RIVERS. 

Nor  less  thy  world,  Columbus,  drinks,  refreshed, 
The  lavish  moisture  of  the  melting  year. 
Wide  o'er  his  isles  the  branching  Oronoquo 
Rolls  a  brown  deluge,  and  the  native  drives 
To  dwell  nioft  on  life-^ufficinp  trees. 
At  .mr,.  hi..l    :,       ■  ■        '       '  ^     •■      •     ,.   I    ,,„„. 


The  nii-htl    ih,  ■::    . 

Dares  HtretWMKT«i.,-n\.,   ,h,    ,„.„,„,„-  ,„asg 

Of  rushing  water  ;  .scan-r  -li.^  .Ijn-  :iii,  -iii.t,     • 

The  sea-like  Plata,  to  wIi.im'  .Im  ,i.i  r.\|i;iiis,-. 

Continuous  depth,  and  wondrou?;  length  of  course. 

Our  floods  are  rills.     With  unabated  force. 

In  silent  dignity  they  sweep  along. 

And  traverse  realms  unknown,  and  blooming  wilds 

And  fruitful  deserts,  worlds  of  solitude. 

Where  the  sun  smiles,  and  seasons  teem  in  vain. 

Unseen,  and  unenjoycd.     Forsaking  these, 

O'er  peopled  plains  they  fair-<liff'usive  flow. 

And  many  a  nation  feed,  and  circle  safe. 

In  their  soft  bosom,  many  a  happy  isle  ; 

The  seat  of  blameless  Pan,  yet  undisturbed 

liy  Christian  crimes  and  Europe's  cruel  sons. 

Thus  pouring  on  they  proudly  seek  the  deep. 

Whose  vanquished  tide,  recoiling  from  the  shock. 

Yields  to  this  liquid  weight  of  half  the  globe. 

And  Ocean  trembles  for  his  green  domain. 


UUIENTAB 

ARTS,  SCIENCE,  POETRY,  OR  FREEDOM. 

But  what  avails  this  wondrous  waste  of  wealth 

This  gay  profusion  of  luxurious  bliss  — 
This  pomp  of  Nature  ?   what  their  balmy  meads. 
Their  powerful  herbs,  and  Ceres  void  of  pain  ? 
liy  vagrant  birds  dispersed,  and  wafting  winds  ; 
What   their    unplanted    fruits  ?     what    the    cool 

draughts. 
The  ambrosial  food,  rich  gums,  and  spicy  health, 
Their  forests  yield  ?    Their  toiling  insects  what  ? 
Their  silky  pride,  and  vegetable  robes  ? 

1  The  river  that  runs  throuRh  Siam,  on  wlin»e  bunks  a 
vast  multituile  of  those  Insects  called  Brf-llies  make  a 
beautiful  appearance  at  night. 


144 


KUKAL    POETRY. THOMSON. 


.  Ah  !  what  avail  their  fatal  treasures,  hid 
Deep  in  the  bowels  of  the  pitying  earth, 
Golconda's  gems,  and  sad  Potosi's  mines. 
Where  dwelt  the  gentlest  children  of  the  sun  ? 
What  all  that  Afric's  golden  rivers  roll. 
Her  odorous  woods,  and  shining  ivory  stores  ? 
Ill-fated  race  !  the  softening  arts  of  Peace, 
Whate'er  the  humanizing  Muses  teach  ; 
The  godlike  wisdom  of  the  tempered  breast ; 
Progressive  truth,  the  patient  force  of  thought ; 
Investigation  calm,  whose  silent  powers 
Command   the   world ;    the    light    that    leads 

Heaven  ; 
Kind  equal  rule,  the  government  of  laws. 
And  all-protecting  Freedom,  which  alone 
Sustains  the  name  and  dignity  of  man  :  — 
These  are  not  theirs. 

THE  son  TYRASNIZES  OVER 


The  parent  sun  himself 
Seems  o'er  this  world  of  slaves  to  tyrannize  ; 
And,  with  oppressive  ray  the  roseate  bloom 
Of  beauty  blasting,  gives  thp  L'lo"iiiy  lino. 
And  feature  gross  :  or  w.hm  ,  i,,  milil. -.  .],;•>]-. 
Mad  jealousy,  blind  ragi',  ami  1.11  inrn^r. 
Their  fervid  spirit  fires.     L"i.  ,l«,  II-  ,„.(  tlurr, 
The  soft  regards,  the  tenderness  of  life. 
The  beart-shed  tear,  the  ineffable  delight 
Of  sweet  humanity  :  these  court  the  beam 
Of  milder  climes  ;   in  selfish  fierce  desire. 
And  the  wild  fury  of  voluptuous  sense. 
There  lost.     The  very  brute-creation  there 
This  rage  partakes,  and  burns  with  horrid  fire. 

TROPICAL  SEBPESTS. 

Lo  !  the  green  serpent,  from  his  dark  abode, 
"Which  e'en  Imagination  fears  to  tread. 
At  noon  forth-issuing,  gathers  up  his  train 
In  orbs  immense,  then,  darting  out  anew. 
Seeks  the  refreshing  fount,  by  which,  diB'used, 
He  throws  his  folds  :  and  while,  with  threatening 
And  deathful  jaws  erect,  the  monster  curls    [tongue 
His  flaming  crest,  all  other  thirst,  appalled, 
Or  shivering  flies,  or  checked  at  distance  stands. 
Nor  dares  approach.     But  still  more  direful  he, 
The  small  close-lurking  minister  of  fate. 
Whose  high-eoncooted  venom  through  the  veins 
A  rapid  lightning  darts,  arresting  swift 
The  vital  current.     Formed  to  humble  man. 
This  child  of  vengeful  Nature  !  there,  sublimed 
To  fearless  lust  of  blood,  the  savage  race 
Roam,  licensed  by  the  shading  hour  of  guilt. 
And  foul  misdeed,  when  the  pure  day  has  shut 
His  sacred  eye. 

THE  tiger;  leopard  ;  HYENA. —  MAURITANIA  ',  LYBIA.— THE 


The  tiger  darting  fierce, 
Impetuous  on  the  prey  his  glance  has  doomed  j 
The  lively-shining  leopard,  speckled  o'er 
With  many  a  spot,  the  beauty  of  the  waste  ; 


And,  scorning  all  the  taming  arts  of  man, 
The  keen  hyena,  fellest  of  the  fell  ; 
These,  rushing  froni  th'  inhospitable  woods 
Of  Mauritania,  or  the  tufted  isles 
That  verdant  rise  amid  the  Lybian  wild, 
Innumerous  glare  around  their  shaggy  king. 
Majestic,  stalking  o'er  the  printed  sand  ; 
And,  with  imperious  and  repeated  roars. 
Demand  their  fated  food.     The  fearful  flocks 
Crowd  near  the  guardian  swain  ;    the  nobler  herds, 
Where  round  their  lordly  bull,  in  rural  ease. 
They  ruminating  lie,  with  horror  hear 
The  coming  rage.     The  awakened  village  starts  ; 
And  to  her  fluttering  breast  the  mother  strains 
Her  thoughtless  infant.     From  the  pirate's  den, 
Or  stern  Morocco's  tyrant  fang,  escaped, 
The  wretch  half  wishes  for  his  bonds  again  ; 
While,  uproar  all,  the  wilderness  resounds. 
From  Atlas  eastward  to  the  frighted  Nile. 


Unhappy  he,  who  from  the  first  of  joys, 
S.iiirty.  cut  off,  is  left  alone 
Aiuhl  ihts  world  of  death.     Day  after  day. 
Sail  Mil  the  jutting  eminence  he  sits, 
And  views  the  main  that  ever  toils  below  ; 
Still  fondly  forming  in  the  farthest  verge. 
Where  the  round  ether  mi-tes  with  the  wave. 
Ships,  dim-discovered,  dropping  from  the  clouds  ; 
At  evening  to  the  setting  sun  he  turns 
A  mournful  eye,  and  down  his  dying  heart 
Sinks  helpless  ;  while  the  wonted  roar  is  up. 
And  hiss  continual  through  the  tedious  night. 
Yet  here,  e'en  here,  into  these  black  abodes 
Of  monsters,  unappalled,  from  stooping  Rome, 
And  guilty  Cffisar,  Liberty  retired. 
Her  Cato  following  through  Numidian  wilds  : 
Disdainful  of  Campania's  gentle  plains. 
And  all  the  green  delights  Ausonia  pours. 
When  for  them  she  must  bend  the  servile  knee, 
And  fawning  take  the  splendid  robber's  boon. 

THE  SI.MOOM   AND    SANDSTOItSI  ",   TOE  CAMEL  ;   SANDSPOUTS  } 

Nor  stop  the  terrors  of  these  regions  here. 
Commissioned  demons  oft,  angels  of  wrath. 
Let  loose  the  raging  elements.     Breathed  hot 
From  all  the  boundless  furnace  of  the  sky. 
And  the  wide  glittering  waste  of  burning  sand, 
A  suffocating  wind  the  pilgrim  smites 
With  instant  death.     Patient  of  thirst  and  toil. 
Son  of  the  desert '.  e'en  the  camel  feels. 
Shot  through  his  withered  heart,  the  fiery  blast. 
Or  from  the  black-red  ether,  bursting  broad, 
Sallies  the  sudden  whirlwind.   Straight  the  sands, 
Commoved  around,  in  gathering  eddies  play  ; 
Nearer  and  nearer  still  they  darkening  come  ; 
Till,  with  the  general,  all-involving  storm 
Swept  up,  the  whole  continuous  wilds  arise  ; 
And  by  their  noon-day  fount  dejected  thrown, 


SUMMER — JUNE. 


145 


Or  sunk  at  night  in  sad  disiistrous  elcop, 
Beneath  descending  hills  the  caravan 
Is  buried  deep.     In  Cairo's  crowded  streets 
Th'  impatient  merchant,  wondering,  waits  i 
And  Mecca  saddens  at  the  long  delay. 

OCEA.VIC  TROPICAL  STOBMS  i  TYl-HOOSS  ; 


But  chief  at  sea,  whoso  every  floxilo  wave 
Obeys  the  blast,  the  aerial  tumult  swells. 
In  the  dread  ocean,  undulating  wide, 
Beneath  the  radiant  lino  that  girts  the  globe, 
The  circling  Typhon,  whirled  from  point  to  point, 
Exhausting  all  the  rage  of  all  the  sl^y. 
And  dire  Ecnephia,'  reign.     .\mid  the  heavens, 
Falsely  serene,  deep  in  a  cloudy  speck  ' 
Compressed,  the  mighty  tempest  brooding  dwells  ; 
Of  no  regard  save  to  the  skilful  eye. 
Fiery  and  foul,  the  small  prognostic  hangs 
Aloft,  or  on  the  promontory's  brow 
Musters  its  force.     A  faint,  deceitful  calm, 
A  fluttering  gale,  the  demon  sends  before, 
To  tempt  the  spreading  sail.     Then  down  at  once, 
Precipitant,  descends  a  mingled  mass 
Of  roaring  winds,  and  flame,  and  rushing  floods. 
In  wild  amazement  fixed  the  sailor  stands. 
Art  is  too  slow  :  by  rapid  fate  oppressed. 
His  broad-winged  vessel  drinks  the  whelming  tide, 
Ilid  in  the  bosom  of  the  black  abyss. 

ViSCO  DB  OAJIA. 

With  such  mad  seas  the  daring  Gama'  fought. 
For  many  a  day,  and  many  a  dreadful  night, 
Incessant,  laboring  round  the  stormy  Cape  ; 
By  bold  ambition  led,  and  bolder  thirst 
Of  gold.     For  then  from  ancient  gloom  emerged 
The  rising  world  of  trade  :  the  Genius,  then. 
Of  navigation,  that,  in  hopeless  sloth, 
Had  slumbered  on  the  vast  Atlantic  deep 
For  idle  ages,  starting,  heard  at  last 
The  Lusitanian  prince  ;  *  who.  Heaven-inspired, 
To  love  of  useful  glory  roused  mankind. 
And  in  unbounded  commerce  mixed  the  world. 

THE  SHABK  ;  SLAVERS  ;  VICTIMS. 

Increasing  still  the  terrors  of  these  storms. 
His  jaws  horrific  armed  with  throe-fold  fate. 
Here  dwells  the  direful  shark.    Lured  by  the  scent 
Of  steaming  crowds,  of  rank  disease,  and  death, 
Behold  !  he  rushing  cuts  the  briny  flood. 
Swift  as  the  gale  can  bear  the  ship  along  ; 
And,  from  the  partners  of  that  cruel  trade 
Which  spoils  unhappy  Guinea  of  her  sons, 

>  Typhon  and  Kcnephin, 

■rricanes,  kr '--  ^-*- 

J  Callcil  by 
first  no  bigger. 

^  Vasco  de  Gama,  the  first  who  sailed  round  Africa,  by 
the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  to  the  East  Indies. 

*  Don  Henry,  tllird  son  to  John  the  First,  King  of  Portu- 
gal. His  strong  genius  to  the  discovery  of  new  countries 
was  the  chief  source  of  all  the  modem  improvements  in 
navigation. 


Demands  his  share  of  prey,  demands  themselves. 
The  stormy  fates  descend  :  ono  death  involves 
Tyrants  and  slaves  ;  when  straight,  their  mangled 
Crashing  at  once,  ho  dyes  the  purple  seas      [limbs 
With  goro,  and  riots  in  the  vengeful  meal. 


When  o'er  this  world,  by  equinoctial  rains 
Flooded  immense,  looks  out  the  joyless  sun. 
And  draws  the  copious  stream  :  from  swampy  fens. 
Whore  putrefaction  into  life  ferments. 
And  breathes  destructive  myriads  ;  or  from  woods, 
Impenetrable  shades,  recesses  foul. 
In  vapors  rank  and  blue  corruption  wrapt. 
Whose  gloomy  horrors  yet  no  desperate  foot 
Has  ever  dared  to  pierce  ;  then,  wasteful,  forth 
Walks  tho  dire  Power  of  pestilent  disease. 
A  thousand  hideous  fiends  her  course  attend, 
Sick  nature  blasting,  and  to  heartless  woo 
And  feeble  desolation,  casting  down 
The  towering  hopes  and  all  the  pride  of  man. 

THE  EPIDEMIC  IS  VERNOS'S  PLEET,  AT  CARTDAGKNA,  NEW 
GKE.SADA,   DESCRIBED. 

Such  as  of  late,  at  Carthagena,  quenched 
The  British  fire.     You,  gallant  Vernon,  saw 
The  miserable  scene  ;  you,  pitying,  saw 
To  infant  weakness  sunk  the  warrior's  arm  j 
Saw  the  deep-racking  pang,  the  ghastly  form. 
The  lip  pale-quivering,  and  the  beamless  eye 
No  more  with  ardor  bright ;  you  heard  the  groans 
Of  agonizing  ships,  from  shore  to  shore  ; 
Heard  nightly  plunged  amid  the  sullen  waves 
The  frequent  corse  ;  while  on  each  other  fi.xed, 
In  sad  presage,  the  blank  assistants  seemed. 
Silent,  to  ask,  whom  Fate  would  next  demand. 


What  need  I  mention  those  inclement  skies. 
Where,  frequent  o'er  tho  sickening  city.  Plague, 
The  fiercest  child  of  Nemesis  divine. 
Descends?     From  Ethiopia's  poisoned  woods. 
From  stifled  Cairo's  filth  and  fetid  fields 
With  locust  armies  putrefying  heaped,' 
This  great  destroyer  sprung.     Her  awful  rago 
The  brutes  escape  ;  man  is  her  destined  prey. 
Intemperate  man  !  and  o'er  his  guilty  domes 
She  draws  a  close  incumbent  cloud  of  death  ; 
Uninterrupted  by  the  living  winds. 
Forbid  to  blow  a  wholesome  breeze  ;  and  stained 
With  many  a  mixture  by  the  sun,  suffused. 
Of  angry  aspect.     Princely  wisdom,  then. 
Dejects  his  watchful  eye  ;  and  from  the  hand 
Of  feeble  justice,  ineffectual,  drop 
The  sword  and  balance  :  mute  the  voice  of  joy. 
And  hushed  the  clamor  of  the  busy  world. 
Empty  tho  streets,  with  uncouth  verdure  clad  ; 


146 


RURAL   POETRY.  —  THOMSON. 


Into  the  worst  of  deserts  sudden  turned 

The  cheerful  haunt  of  men  :  unless  escaped 

From  the  doomed  house,  where  matchless  horror 

reigns, 
Shut  up  by  barbarous  fear,  the  smitten  wretch, 
With  frenzy  wild,  breaks  loose  ;  and  loud  to  Heaven 
Screaming,  the  dreadful  policy  arraigns. 
Inhuman,  and  unwise.     The  sullen  door, 
Yet  uninfected,  on  its  cautious  hinge 
Fearing  to  turn,  abhors  society  : 
Dependants,  friends,  relations.  Love  himselt, 
Savage  by  woe,  forget  the  tender  tie. 
The  Tweet  engagement  of  the  feeling  heart. 
But  vain  their  selfish  care  :  the  circling  sky. 
The  wide  enlivening  air,  is  full  of  fate  ; 
And,  struck  by  turns,  in  solitary  pangs 
They  fall,  unblest,  untended,  and  unmourned. 
Thus  o'er  the  prostrate  city  black  Despair 
Extends  her  raven  wing  :  while  to  complete 
The  scene  of  desolation,  stretched  around, 
The  grim  guards  stand,  denying  all  retreat. 
And  give  the  flying  wretch  a  better  death. 

GEKEEAI.  EFFECTS  OP  HEiT  ;    DROUGHT  ;   VOLCANOES  •, 
EARTHQCAKES. 

Much  yet  remains  unsung  :  the  rage  intense 
Of  brazen-vaulted  skies,  of  iron  fields, 
Where  drought  and  famine  starve  the  blasted  year 
Fired  by  the  torch  of  noon  to  ten-fold  rage, 
The  infuriate  hill  that  shoots  the  pillared  flame, 
And,  roused  within  the  subterranean  world, 
The  expanding  earthquake,  that  resistless  shakes 
Aspiring  cities  from  their  solid  base. 
And  buries  mountains  in  the  flaming  gulf. 
But  'tis  enough  ;  return,  my  vagrant  Muse  : 
A  nearer  scene  of  horror  calls  thee  home. 


Descend  :  the  tempest-loving  raven  scarce 
Dares  wing  the  dubious  dusk.     In  rueful  gaze 
The  cattle  stand,  and  on  the  scowling  heavens 
Cast  a  deploring  ejB  ;  by  man  forsook, 
Who  to  the  crowded  cottage  hies  him  fast. 
Or  seeks  the  shelter  of  the  downward  cave. 
'T  is  listening  fear,  and  dumb  amazement  all : 
When  to  the  startled  eye  the  sudden  glance 
Appears  far  south,  eruptive  through  the  cloud  ; 
And  following  slower,  in  explosion  vast. 
The  Thunder  raises  his  tremendous  voice. 
At  first,  heard  solemn  o'er  the  verge  of  Heaven, 
The  tempest  growls  ;  but  as  it  nearer  comes. 
And  rolls  its  awful  burden  on  the  wind. 
The  lightnings  flash  a  larger  curve,  and  more 
The  noise  astounds  :  till  over  head  a  sheet 
Of  livid  flame  discloses  wide  ;  then  shuts. 
And  opens  wider  ;  shuts  and  opens  still 
Expansive,  wrapping  ether  in  a  blaze. 
Follows  the  loosened  aggravated  roar, 
Enlarging,  deepening,  mingling  ;  peal  on  peal 
Crushed  horrible,  convulsing  heaven  and  earth. 


IAIN  ;  UGHTNING  ;  BLASTED 
)  TOWER  -,  CAERNARVON  ;  PE: 
■  t-.v.riT  Hii.i-S  ..  THE  SCOTCH  I 


THE  tempest;  MINERAL  EXHALATIONS;   WARRING  CLOTOS. 

Behold,  slow-settling  o'er  the  lurid  grove, 
Unusual  darkness  broods,  and,  growing,  gains 
The  full  possession  of  the  sky,  surcharged 
With  wrathful  vapor,  from  the  secret  beds, 
Where  sleep  the  mineral  generations,  drawn. 
Thence  nitre,  sulphur,  and  the  flery  spume 
Of  fat  bitumen,  steaming  on  the  day. 
With  various-tinctured  trains  of  latent  flame, 
Pollute  the  sky,  and  in  yon  baneful  cloud 
A  reddening  gloom,  a  magazine  of  fate, 
Jerment ;  till,  by  the  touch  ethereal  roused. 
The  dash  of  clouds,  or  irritating  war 
Of  fighting  winds,  while  all  is  calm  below. 
They  furious  spring. 

..   ™.TTiT.    DncPPnS'S    A  TEMPEST  ;   THE   BIRDS  ; 
THE  AWFDL  CALM  THAT   PRECEDES  f/fj "^     ' 

THE  RAVEN  ;   CATTLE  ;   THONDER  AND    LigUTMNO. 

A  boding  silence  reigns 
Dread  through  the  dun  expanse  ;  save  the  dull  sound 
That  from  the  mountain,  previous  to  the  storm. 
Rolls  o'er  the  muttering  earth,  disturbs  the  flood, 
And  shakes  the  forest-leaf  without  a  breath. 
Prone,  to  the  lowest  vale,  the  aerial  tribes 


A  DELUGE  OF 


Down  comes  a  deluge  of  sonorous  hail. 
Or  prone-descending  rain.     Wide-rent,  the  clouds 
Pour  a  whole  flood  ;   and  yet,  its  flamo  unquenched, 
Th'  inconquerable  lightning  struggles  through, 
Ragged  and  fierce,  or  in  red  whirling  balls, 
And  fires  the  mountains  with  redoubled  rage.     _ 
Black  from  the  stroke,  above,  the  smouldering  pine 
Stands  a  sad,  shattered  trunk;  and,  stretched  below, 
A  lifeless  group  the  blasted  cattle  lie  : 
Here  the  soft  flocks,  with  that  same  harmless  look 
They  wore  alive,  and  ruminating  still 
I  In  Fancy's  eye  ;  and  there  the  frowning  bull 
And  ox  half-raised.     Struck  on  the  castled  chff. 
The  venerable  tower  and  spiry  fane 
Resign  their  aged  pride.     The  gloomy  woods 
Start  at  the  flash,  and  from  their  deep  recess 
Wide-flaming  out,  their  trembling  inmates  shake. 
Amid  Carnarvon's  mountains  rages  loud 
The  repercussive  roar  :  with  mighty  crash. 
Into  the  flashing  deep  from  the  rude  rocks 
Of  Penmanmaur  heaped  hideous  to  the  sky. 
Tumble  the  smitten  cliffs  :  and  Snowden's  peak. 
Dissolving,  instant  yields  his  wintry  load. 
Far  seen,  the  heights  of  heathy  Cheviot  blaze. 
And  Thule  bellows  through  her  utmost  isles. 


CELADON  AND  AMELIA  ;  THEIR  STORT. 

Guilt    hears     appalled,    with     deeply-troubled 
And  yet  not  always  on  the  guilty  head     [thought ; 
Descends  the  fated  flash.     Young  Celadon 
And  his  Amelia  were  a  matchless  pair  ; 
With  equal  virtue  formed,  and  equal  grace, 
The  same,  distinguished  by  their  sex  alone  : 
Hers,  the  mild  lustre  of  the  blooming  morn. 
And  his,  the  radiance  of  the  risen  day. 


SUMMER — JUNE. 


147 


Thoy  loved  :  but  such  Ihcir  guileless  passion  was 
As  in  the  dawn  of  time  informed  the  heart 
Of  innocence  and  undisscmblini;  truth. 
'Twas  friendship,  heightened  by  tho  mutual  wish  ; 
The  enchanting  hope,  and  sympathetic  glow, 
Beamed  from  tho  mutual  eye.     Devoting  all 
To  love,  each  wa-s  to  each  a  dearer  self; 
Supremely  happy  in  tho  awakened  power 
Of  giving  joy.     Alone,  amid  tho  shades. 
Still  in  harmonious  intercourse  they  lived 
The  rural  day,  and  talked  the  flowing  heart, 
Or  sighed  and  looked  unutterable  things. 


So  passed  their  life,  a  clear  united  stream, 
By  care  unruffled  ;  till,  in  evil  hour. 
The  t«mpest  caught  them  on  the  tender  walk, 
Heedless  how  far  and  where  its  mazes  strayed, 
While,  with  each  other  blest,  creative  love 
Still  bade  eternal  Eden  smile  around. 
Presaging  instant  fate,  her  bosom  heaved 
Unwonted  sighs,  and,  stealing  oft  a  look 
Of  tho  big  gloom,  on  Celadon  her  eye 
Fell  tearful,  wetting  her  disordered  check. 
In  vain  assuring  love,  and  confidence 
In  Heaven,  repressed  her  fear  ;  it  grew,  and  shook 
Her  frame  near  dissolution. 

TRCST  IS  THE    DIVINE  PROVTPENTE.  —  AMELIA  STRrCK    DEAU 


He  perceived 
The  unequal  conflict,  and,  as  angcl.s  look 
On  dj'ing  saints,  his  eyes  compassion  shed. 
With  love  illumined  high.     'Fear  not,'  he  said, 
'  Sweet  innocence  !  thou  stranger  to  offence. 
And  inward  storm  !     He,  who  yon  skies  involves 
In  frowns  of  darkness,  ever  smiles  on  thee 
With  kind  regard.     O'er  thee  tho  secret  shaft 
That  wastes  at  midnight,  or  the  undreadcd  hour 
Of  noon,  flies  harmless  ;  and  that  very  voice. 
Which  thunders  terror  through  the  guilty  heart. 
With  tongues  of  seraphs  whispers  peace  to  thine. 
'T  is  safety  to  be  near  thee  sure,  and  thus 
To  clasp  perfection  ! '     From  his  void  embrace 
(Mysterious  Heaven  !)  that  moment,  to  the  ground, 
A  blackened  cor.sc,  was  struck  tho  beauteous  maid. 
But  who  can  paint  tho  lover,  as  he  stood. 
Pierced  by  severe  amnicment,  hating  life. 
Speechless,  and  fi.xcd  in  all  the  death  of  woe  ! 
So  (faint  resemblance  !)  on  the  marble  tomb. 
The  well-dissembled  mourner  stooping  stands, 
Forever  silent,  and  forever  sad. 


ASD  ADORATION. 

As  from  the  face  of  Heaven  the  shattered  clouds 
Tumultuous  rove,  tho  interminable  sky 
Sublimer  swells,  and  o'er  the  world  expands 


A  purer  azuro.     Through  the  lightened  air 
A  higher  lustre  and  a  clearer  calm. 
Diffusive,  tremble  ;  while,  as  if  in  sign 
Of  danger  past,  a  glittering  robe  of  joy. 
Set  off  abundant  by  the  yellow  ray. 
Invests  the  fields,  and  Nature  smiles  revived. 
'T  is  beauty  all,  and  grateful  song  around. 
Joined  to  the  low  of  kine,  and  numerous  bloat 
Of  flocks  thick -nibbling  through  tho  clovcrcd  vale; 
And  shall  tho  hymn  be  marred  by  thankless  man. 
Most  favored  !  who  with^oice  articulate 
Should  lead  tho  chorus  of  this  lower  world  ; 
Shall  he,  so  soon  forgetful  of  the  Hand 
That  hushed  the  thunder,  and  serenes  tho  sky, 
E.xtinguished  feci  that  spark  tho  tempest  waked, 
That  sense  of  powers  exceeding  far  his  own. 
Ere  yet  his  feeble  heart  has  lost  its  fears  ? 


Cheered  by  the  milder  beam,  the  sprightly  youth 
Speeds  to  the  well-known  pool,  whose  crystal  depth 
A  sandy  bottom  shows.     A  while  he  stands 
Gazing  the  inverted  landscape,  half  afraid 
To  meditate  the  blue  profound  below  ; 
Then  plunges  headlong  down  the  circling  flood. 
His  ebon  tresses  and  his  rosy  cheek 
Instant  emerge  ;  and  through  the  obedient  wave, 
At  each  short  breathing  by  his  lip  repelled. 
With  arms  and  legs  according  well,  he  makes, 
As  humor  leads,  an  easy-winding  path ; 
While,  from  his  polished  sides,  a  dewy  light 
Effuses  on  the  pleased  spectators  round. 


This  is  the  purest  exercise  of  health. 
The  kind  refresher  of  the  summer-heats  ; 
Nor,  when  cold  Winter  keens  the  brightening  flood. 
Would  I,  weak-shivering,  linger  on  the  brink. 
Thus  life  redoubles,  and  is  oft  preserved. 
By  the  bold  swimmer,  in  tho  swift  illapse 
Of  accident  disastrous.     Hence  the  limbs 
Knit  into  foroe  ;  and  tho  same  Roman  arm. 
That  rose  victorious  6'or  the  conquered  earth. 
First  learned,  while  tender,  to  subdue  the  wave. 
E'en  from  the  body's  purity  tho  mind 
Receives  a  secret,  sympathetic  aid. 


Close  in  the  covert  of  a  hazel  copse. 
Where,  winded  into  pleasing  solitudes. 
Runs  out  tho  rambling  dale,  young  Damon  sat. 
Pensive,  and  pierced  with  love's  delightful  pangs. 
There  to  the  stream  that  down  the  distjint  rocks 
Hoarse  murmuring  fell,  and  plaintive  breeze  that 
Among  the  bending  willows,  falsely  ho         [played 
Of  Musidora's  cruelty  complained. 
She  felt  his  flame  ;  but  deep  within  hor  breast, 
In  bashful  coyness,  or  in  maiden  pride. 
The  soft  return  concealed,  save  when  it  stole 
In  sidelong  glances  from  her  downcast  eye. 
Or  from  her  swelling  soul  in  stifled  sighs. 


148 


RURAL    POETRY. THOMSON. 


Touched  by  the  scene,  no  stranger  to  his  vows, 
He  framed  a  melting  lay  to  try  her  heart ; 
And,  if  an  infant  passion  struggled  there. 
To  call  that  passion  forth.     Thrice  happy  swaii 
A  lucky  chance,  that  oft  decides  the  fate 
Of  mighty  monarchs,  then  decided  thine. 


For,  lo  !  conducted  by  the  laughing  Loves, 
This  cool  retreat  his  Musidora  sought : 
Warm  in  her  cheek  the  sultry  season  glowed  ; 
And,  robed  in  loose  array,  she  came  to  bathe 
Her  fervent  limbs  in  the  refreshing  stream. 
What  shall  he  do  ?     In  sweet  confusion  lost, 
And  dubious  flutterings,  he  a  while  remained  ; 
A  pure  ingenuous  elegance  of  soul, 
A  delicate  refinement,  known  to  few. 
Perplexed  his  breast,  and  urged  him  to  retire  : 
But  love  forbade.     Ye  prudes  in  virtue,  say. 
Say,  y  -.1.1.-1,  nliiit  would  you  have  done? 
Meunliiii.  ,  llii-  l:.i'.  1  iiymph  than  ever  blest 
Ar«i.ii:iii  -ii.:i]ii,  mil.  timid  eye  around 
The  bauk.^  tuivt'ving,  stripped  her  beauteous  limbs. 
To  taste  the  lucid  coolness  of  the  flood. 
Ah,  then  !  not  Paris  on  the  piny  top 
Of  Ida  panted  stronger,  when  aside 
The  rival  goddesses  the  veil  divine 
Cast  unconfined,  and  gave  him  all  their  charms, 
Than,  Damon,  thou  ;  as  from  the  snowy  leg. 
And  slender  foot,  the  inverted  silk  she  drew  ; 
As  the  soft  touch  dissolved  the  virgin  zone  ; 
And,  through  the  parting  robe,  the  alternate  breast, 
With  youth  wild  throbbing,  on  thy  lawless  gaze 
In  full  lu.xuriance  rose,     i:..!,  -L  -|..  ...i.   y..i>th. 
How  durst  thou  risk  111.'      ..'    !    '    :  i:..     i  i.'w. 
As  from  her  naked  liuil.-  .'''. 

Harmonious  swelled  by  -\ -  ii... -'  limd. 

In  folds  loose-floating  fell  the  faiiitLT  Inwu; 
And  fair-exposed  she  stood,  shrunk  from  herself. 
With  fancy  blushing,  at  the  doubtful  breeze 
Alarmed,  and  starting  like  the  fearful  fawn  ? 
Then  to  the  flood  she  rushed  ;  the  parted  flood 
Its  lovely  guest  with  closing  waves  received  ; 
And  every  beauty  softening,  every  grace 
Flushing  anew,  a  mellow  lustre  shed  : 
As  shines  the  lily  through  the  crystal  mild  ; 
Or  as  the  rose  amid  the  morning  dew, 


Such  maddening  draughts  of  beauty  to  the  soul, 
As  for  a  while  o'erwhelmed  his  raptured  thought 
With  luxury  too  daring. 


Checked,  at  last. 
By  love's  respectful  modesty,  he  deemed 
The  theft  profane,  if  aught  profane  to  love 
Can  e'er  be  deemed;  and,  struggling  from  the  shade 


With  headlong  hurry  fled  :  but  first  these  lines, 

Traced  by  his  ready  pencil,  on  the  bank 

With  trembling  han4  he  threw.    '  Bathe  on,  my  fair, 

Yet  unbeheld,  save  by  the  sacred  eye 

Of  faithful  love  :  I  go  to  guard  thy  haunt. 

To  keep  from  thy  recess  each  vagrant  foot, 

And  each  licentious  eye.'     With  wild  surprise. 

As  if  to  marble  struck,  devoid  of  sense, 

A  stupid  moment  motionless  she  stood  : 

So  stands  the  statue  •  that  enchants  the  world. 

So  bending  tries  to  veil  the  matchless  boast, 

The  mingled  beauties  of  exulting  Greece. 

Recovering,  swift  she  flew  to  find  those  robes 

Which  blissful  Eden  knew  not  ;  and,  arrayed 

In  careless  haste,  the  alarming  paper  snatched. 

But,  when  her  Damon's  well-known  hand  she  saw, 

Her  terrors  vanished,  and  a  softer  train 

Of  mixed  emotions,  hard  to  be  described. 

Her  sudden  bosom  seized  :  shame  void  of  guilt. 

The  charming  blush  of  innocence,  esteem. 

And  admiration  of  her  lover's  flame, 

By  modesty  exalted  :  e'en  a  sense 

Of  self-approving  beauty  stole  across 

Her  busy  thought.     At  length  a  tender  calm 

Hushed  by  degrees  the  tumult  of  her  soul  ; 

And  on  the  spreading  beech,  that  o'er  the  stream 

Incumbent  bung,  she  with  the  sylvan  pen 

Of  rural  lovers  this  confession  carved; 

Which  soon  her  Damon  kissed  with  weeping  joy  : 

'  Dear  youth  !   sole  judge  of  what  these  verses 
By  fortune  too  much  favored,  but  by  love,     [mean, 
Alas  !  not  favored  less,  be  still  as  now 
Discreet  :  the  time  may  come  you  need  not  fly.' 


The  sun  has  lost  his  rage  :  his  downward  orb 
Shoots  nothing  now  but  animating  warmth. 
And  vital  lustre  ;   that,  with  various  ray, 
Lights  up  the  clouds,  those  beauteous  robes  of  heaven 
Incessant  rolled  into  romantic  shapes. 
The  dream  of  waking  fancy.     Broad  below. 
Covered  with  ripening  fruits,  and  swelling  fast 
Into  the  perfect  year,  the  pregnant  earth 
And  all  her  tribes  rejoice.     Now  the  soft  hour 
Of  walking  comes  :  for  him  who  lonely  loves 
To  seek  the  distant  hills,  and  there  converse 
With  Nature  ;   there  to  harmonize  his  heart. 
And  in  pathetic  song  to  breathe  around 
The  harmony  to  others. 

CHARMS  OF   A  CIRCLE  OF  CULTIVATEn  AND    REFINED  FRIENDS. 

Social  friends. 
Attuned  to  happy  unison  of  soul  ; 
To  whose  exalting  eye  a  fairer  world. 
Of  which  the  vulgar  never  had  a  glimpse. 
Displays  its  charms;  whose  minds  are  richly  fraught 
With  philosophic  stores,  superior  light  ; 
And  in  whose  breast,  enthusiastic,  burns 
Virtue,  the  sons  of  interest  deem  romance  ; 


'  The  Venus  called  '  of  the  I 


:i,'  at  Florence. 


SUMMER  —  JUNE. 


149 


Now  called  abroad  enjoy  the  falling  day  : 

Now  to  tho  vordant  Portico  of  woods, 

To  Nature's  vast  Lyceum  forth  they  walk  ; 

By  that  kind  School  where  no  proud  master  reigns, 

Tho  full  free  converse  of  tho  friendly  heart, 

Improving  and  improved. 

BAMBLI  or  L0VKK3  iT  ICVK.  — iMASDA. 

Now  from  tho  world, 
Sacred  to  sweet  retirement,  lovors  steal, 
And  pour  their  souls  in  transport,  which  the  Siro 
Of  love  approving  hears,  and  calls  it  good. 
Which  way,  Amanda,  shall  wo  bend  our  course  ? 
The  choice  perplexes.    Wherefore  should  we  choose? 
All  is  tho  same  with  thee.     Soy,  shall  we  wind 
Along  the  streams  ?  or  walk  the  smiling  mead? 
Or  court  the  forest-glades  ?  or  wander  wild 
Among  the  waving  harvests?  or  ascend. 
While  radiant  Summer  opens  all  its  pride, 
Thy  hill,  delightful  Shene?  • 

BICHMOSD     mLL    LANDSCAPB.  —  LONDON. 


Here  let  us  sweep 
The  boundless  landscape  ;  now  the  raptured  eye. 
Exulting,  swift  to  huge  Augusta  send. 
Now  to  tho  Sister  Hills  '  that  skirt  her  plain  ; 
To  lofty  Harrow  now,  and  now  to  where 
Majestic  Windsor  lifts  his  princely  brow. 
In  lovely  contrast  to  this  glorious  view. 
Calmly  magnificent,  then  will  we  turn 
To  where  the  silver  Thames  first  rural  grows. 
There  let  the  feasted  eye  unwearied  stray  : 
Luxurious,  there,  rove  through  tho  pendent  woods 
That  nodding  hang  o'er  Harrington's  retreat : 
And,  stooping  thence  to  Ham's  embowering  walks. 
Beneath  whoso  shades,  in  spotless  peace  retired, 
With  her  the  pleading  partner  of  his  heart, 
The  worthy  Queensberry  yet  laments  his  Oay, 
And  polished  Cornbury  woos  the  willing  Muse,  — 
Slow  let  us  trace  the  matchless  vale  of  Thames  ; 
Fair  winding  up  to  where  the  muses  haunt 
In  Twiok'nam's  bowers,  and  for  their  Pope  implore 
The  healing  God  ;'  to  royal  Hampton's  pile. 
To  Clermont's  terraced  height,  and  Esher's  groves. 
Where  in  the  sweetest  solitude,  embraced 
By  the  soft  windings  of  the  silent  Mole, 
From  courts  and  senates  Pclhum  finds  repose. 
Enchanting  vale  !  beyond  whate'er  the  Muse 
Has  of  Aohaia  or  Hcsperia  sung  ! 
0  vale  of  bliss  !  0  softly-swelling  hills  ! 
On  which  the  power  of  Cultivation  lies. 
And  joys  to  sec  tho  wonders  of  his  toil. 

OCNT    OF    xni!    SCBSERT    OP  ENGLAND.  - 


LIBERTY,    QUEEN    OP  THE  ARTS.  ■ 

AXD  FERTILE  SOIL.  —  AGRKXLTURAL  WEALTH. 

Heavens  !  what  a  goodly  prospect  spreads  around, 

1  The  old  name  of  Richmond  ;  signifying  in  Saxon,  thin- 
ng  or  xptendor. 
liUighgate  and  Hampstead.      '  Then  in  his  last  sickness. 


Of  hills,  and  dales>  and  woods,  and  lawns,  and  spires. 
And  glittering  towns,  and  gilded  streams,  till  all 
Tho  stretching  landscape  into  smoko  decays  I 
Happy  Britannia  !  where  the  Qucoa  of  Arts, 
Inspiring  vigor,  Liberty  abroad 
Walks  unconfincd,  e'en  to  thy  farthest  cotd. 
And  scatters  plenty  with  unsparing  hand. 

Rich  is  thy  soil,  and  merciful  thy  clime  ; 
Thy  streams  unfailing  in  tho  Summer's  drought ; 
Unmatched  thy  guardian-oaks  ;  thy  valleys  float 
With  golden  waves  ;  and  on  thy  mountains  flocks 
Bleat  numberless  ;  while,  roving  round  their  sides. 
Bellow  the  blackening  herds  in  lusty  droves. 
Beneath  thy  meadows  glow,  and  rise  unquellcd 
Against  the  mower's  scythe.   ,0n  every  hand 
Thy  villas  shine.     Thy  country  teems  with  wealth ; 
And  property  assures  it  to  tho  swain, 
Pleased  and  unwearied  in  his  guarded  toil. 


Full  are  thy  cities  with  the  sons  of  Art  : 
And  trade  and  joy,  in  every  busy  street. 
Mingling  are  heard  :  e'en  Drudgery  himself, 
As  at  the  car  ho  sweats,  or  dusty  hews 
The  palace-stone,  looks  gay.     Thy  crowded  ports, 
Where  rising  masts  an  endless  prospect  yield. 
With  labor  burn,  and  echo  to  the  shouts 
Of  hurried  sailor,  as  ho  hearty  waves 
His  last  adieu,  and,  loosening  every  sheet, 
Resigns  tho  spreading  vessel  to  tho  wind 

ECLOOY  OF   BRITISH   TOCTH,   AGE,   VIBTTE,  AND   VALOR. 

Bold,  firm,  and  graceful,  are  thy  generous  youth. 
By  hardship  sinewed,  and  by  danger  fired. 
Scattering  the  nations  where  they  go  ;  and  first 
Or  on  the  listed  plain,  or  stormy  seas. 
Mild  are  thy  glories  too,  as  o'er  the  plains 
Of  thriving  peace  thy  thoughtful  sires  preside  ; 
In  genius,  and  substantial  learning,  high  ; 
For  every  virtue,  every  worth,  renowned  ; 
Sincere,  plain-hearted,  hospitable,  kind  ; 
Yet  like  the  mustering  thunder  when  provoked. 
The  dread  of  tyrants,  and  the  sole  resource 
Of  those  that  under  grim  oppression  groan. 


Thy  sons  of  Glory  many  !  Alfred  thine. 
In  whom  the  splendor  of  heroic  war. 
And  more  heroic  peace,  when  governed  well. 
Combine  ;  whose  hallowed  jiame  tho  Virtues  saint, 
And  his  own  Muses  love  ;  the  best  of  kings  ! 
With  him  thy  Edwards  and  thy  Henrys  shine. 
Names  dear  to  Fame  ;  the  first  who  deep  impressed 
On  haughty  Gaul  the  terror  of  thy  arms, 
That  awes  her  genius  still.     In  statesmen  thou, 
And  patriots,  fertile.     Thine  a  steady  More, 
Who,  with  a  generous  though  mistaken  leal, 
Withstood  a  brutal  tyrant's  useful  rage. 
Like  Cato  firm,  like  Aristidcs  just, 
Like  rigid  Cineinnatus  nobly  poor,  — 

erect,  who  smiled  on  death. 


150 


RURAL   POETRY.  —  THOMSON. 


Frugal  and  wise,  a  WaUingham  is  thine  ; 
A  Drake,  who  made  thee  mistress  of  the  deep, 
And  bore  thy  name  in  thunder  round  the  world. 
Then  flamed  thy  spirit  high  ;   but  who  can  speak 
The  numerous  worthies  of  the  Maiden  Reign? 


In  Raleigh  mark  their  every  glory  mixed  ; 
Raleigh,  the  scourge  of  Spain  !  whose  breast  with  all 
The  sage,  the  patriot,  and  the  hero  burned  ; 
Nor  sunk  his  vigor,  when  a  coward-reign 
The  warrior  fettered,  and  at  last  resigned. 
To  glut  the  vengeance  of  a  vanquished  foe. 
Then,  active  still  and  unrestrained,  his  mind 
Explored  the  vast  extent  of  ages  past. 
And  with  his  prison-hours  enriched  the  world  ; 
Yet  found  no  times,  in  all  the  long  research, 
So  glorious,  or  so  base,  as  those  he  proved,  — 
In  which  he  conquered,  and  in  which  he  bled. 


Nor  can  the  Muse  the  gallant  Sidney  pass, 
The  plume  of  war  !  with  early  laurels  crowned, 
The  lover's  myrtle,  and  the  poet's  bay. 
A  Hampden  too  is  thine,  illustrious  land  ! 
Wise,  strenuous,  firm,  of  unsubmitting  soul, 
Who  stemmed  the  torrent  of  a  downward  age 
To  slavery  prone,  and  bade  thee  rise  again 
In  all  thy  native  pomp  of  freedom  bold. 
Bright,  at  his  call,  thy  Age  of  Men  effulged. 
Of  men  on  whom  late  time  a  kindling  eye 
Shall  turn,  and  tyrants  tremble  while  they  read. 


Bring  every  sweetest  flower,  and  let  me  strew 
The  grave  where  Russel  lies;  whose  tempered  blood 
With  calmest  cheerfulness  for  thee  resigned. 
Stained  the  sad  annals  of  a  giddy  reign  ; 
Aiming  at  lawless  power,  though  meanly  sunk 
In  loose  inglorious  luxury.     With  him 
His  friend,  the  British  Cassius,^  fearless  bled  ; 
Of  high  determined  spirit,  roughly  brave. 
By  ancient  learning  to  the  enlightened  love 
Of  ancient  freedom  warmed. 


Fair  thy  renown 
In  awful  sages  and  in  noble  bards  ; 
Soon  as  the  light  of  dawning  Science  .spread 
Her  orient  ray,  and  waked  the  Muses'  song. 
Thine  is  a  Bacon  ;  hapless  in  his  choice, 
Unfit  to  stand  the  civil  storm  of  state. 
And  through  the  smooth  barbarity  of  courts. 
With  firm  but  pliant  virtue,  forward  still 
To  urge  his  course  :  him  for  the  studious  shade 
Kind  Nature  formed,  deep,  comprehensive,  clear. 
Exact,  and  elegant ;   in  one  rich  soul 
Plato,  the  Stagyrite,  and  Tally,  joined. 

1  Algernon  Sidney. 


The  great  deliverer  he  !  who  from  the  gloom 
Of  cloistered  monks,  and  jargon-teaching  schools, 
Led  forth  the  true  Philosophy,  there  long 
Held  in  the  magic  chain  of  words  and  forms. 
And  definitions  void  :  he  led  her  forth, 
Daughter  of  Heaven  !  that  slow-ascending  still, 
Investigating  sure  the  chain  of  things. 
With  radiant  finger  points  to  Heaven  again. 


The  generous  Ashley  ^  thine,  the  friend  of  man  ; 
Who  scanned  his  nature  with  a  brother's  eye. 
His  weakness  prompt  to  shade,  to  raise  his  aim, 
To  touch  the  finer  movements  of  the  mind. 
And  with  the  moral  beauty  charm  the  heart. 
Why  need  I  name  thy  Boyle,  whose  pious  search 
Amid  the  dark  recesses  of  his  works 
The  great  Creator  sought  ?     And  why  thy  Locke, 
Who  made  the  whole  internal  world  his  own  ? 
Let  Newton,  pure  intelligence,  whom  God 
To  mortals  lent,  to  trace  his  boundless  works 
From  laws  sublimely  simple,  speak  thy  fame 
In  all  philosophy. 

ECLOGT  OF  SHAKSPEABE  }  MILTON  ;  SPENSER  ;  CHAUCER. 

For  lofty  sense, 
Creative  fancy,  and  inspection  keen 
Through  the  deep  windings  of  the  human  heart. 
Is  not  wild  Shakspeare  thine  and  Nature's  boast? 
Is  not  each  great,  each  amiable  Muse 
Of  classic  ages  in  thy  Milton  met? 
A  genius  universal  as  his  theme, 
Astonishing  as  Chaos,  as  the  bloom 
Of  blowing  Eden  fair,  as  Heaven  sublime  ? 
Nor  shall  my  verse  that  elder  bard  forget, 
The  gentle  Spenser,  Fancy's  pleasing  son  ; 
Who,  like  a  copious  river,  poured  his  song 
O'er  all  the  mazes  of  enchanted  ground  : 
Nor  thee,  his  ancient  master,  laughing  sage, 
Chaucer,  whose  native  manners-painting  verse, 
Well  moralized,  shines  through  the  Gothic  cloud 
Of  time  and  language  o'er  thy  genius  thrown. 


May  my  song  soften,  as  thy  daughters  I, 
Britannia,  hail  !  for  beauty  is  their  own, 
The  feeling  heart,  simplicity  of  life. 
And  elegance,  and  taste  :  the  faultless  form. 
Shaped  by  the  hand  of  Harmony  ;   the  cheek, 
Where  the  live  crimson,  through  the  native  white 
Soft  shooting,  o'er  the  face  diffuses  bloom, 
And  every  nameless  grace  ;   the  parted  lip, 
Like  the  red  rose-bud  moist  with  morning  dew, 
Breathing  delight  ;  and,  under  flowing  jet. 
Or  sunny  ringlets,  or  of  circling  brown, 
The  neck  slight-shaded,  and  the  swelling  breast ; 
The  look  resistless,  piercing  to  the  soul. 
And  by  the  soul  informed,  when  dressed  in  love 
She  sits  high-smiling  in  the  conscious  eye. 

1  Anthony  Ashley  Cooper,  Earl  of  Shaftesbury. 


SUMMER  —  JUNE. 


161 


PATRIOTIC   J 

Island  of  bliss  !  nmid  the  subjcot  seas, 
TUat  thunder  round  thy  rocky  coasts,  sot  u 
At  once  the  wonder,  terror,  and  delight, 
Of  distant  nations,  whose  remotest  shores 
Can  soon  be  shaken  by  thy  naval  arm  ; 
Not  to  be  shook  thyself,  but  all  assaults 
Baffling,  as  thy  hoar  cliffs  the  loud  sca-wai 


0  Thou  !  by  whoso  Almighty  nod  tho  scale 
Of  empire  rises,  or  alternate  falls, 
Send  forth  the  saving  Virtues  round  tho  land, 
In  bright  patrol  :  wliito  Peace,  and  social  Love  ; 
I    The  tender-looking  Charity,  intent 

On  gentle  deeds,  and  shedding  tears  through  smiles  ; 
Undaunted  Truth,  and  Dignity  of  Mind  ; 
Courage  composed,  and  keen  ;  sound  Temperance, 
Healthful  in  heart  and  look  ;  clear  Chastity, 
With  blushes  reddening  as  she  moves  along, 
Disordered  at  the  deep  regard  she  draws  ; 
Rough  Industry  ;   Activity  untired, 
With  copious  life  informed,  and  all  awake  ; 
M'hilc  in  the  radiant  front  superior  shines 
That  first  paternal  virtue,  Public  Zeal  ; 
Who  throws  o'er  all  an  equal  wide  survey, 
And,  ever  musing  on  the  common  weal, 
Still  labors  glorious  with  some  great  design. 

i.  SCMMBB  SUNSET. 

Low  walks  the  sun,  and  broadens  by  degrees, 
Just  o'er  the  verge  of  day.     The  shifting  clouds 
Assembled  gay,  a  richly  gorgeous  train, 
In  all  their  pomp  attend  his  setting  throne. 
Air,  earth  and  ocean  smile  immense.     And  now, 
As  if  his  weary  chariot  sought  the  bowers 
Of  Amphitrite,  and  her  tending  nymphs 
(.So  Grecian  fable  sung),  he  dips  his  orb  ; 
Now  half-immersed,  and  now  a  golden  curve. 
Gives  one  bright  glance,  then  total  disappears. 


CONTRASTKD. 

Forever  running  an  enchanted  round, 
Passes  the  day,  deceitful,  vain,  and  void  ; 
As  fleets  the  vision  o'er  the  furmful  brain. 
This  moment  hurrying  wild  the  impassioned  soul, 
The  next  in  nothing  lost.     'T  is  so  to  him, 
The  dreamer  of  this  earth,  an  idle  blank  : 
A  sight  of  horror  to  tho  cruel  wretch, 
Who  all  day  long  in  sordid  pleasure  rolled. 
Himself  a  useless  load,  has  squandered  vile, 
Upon  his  scoundrel  train,  what  might  have  cheered 
A  drooping  family  of  modest  worth. 
But  to  the  generous,  still-improving  mind. 
That  gives  the  hopeless  heart  to  sing  for  joy, 
Diffusing  kind  beneficence  around, 
Boastlcss,  as  now  descends  the  silent  dew  ; 
To  him  the  long  review  of  ordered  life 
Is  inward  rapture,  only  to  bo  felt 


Confessed  from  yonder  slow-extinguished  clouds, 
All  ether  softening,  sober  Evening  takes 
Her  wonted  station  in  the  middle  air  ; 
A  thousand  shadows  at  her  beck.     First  this 
She  sends  on  earth  ;  then  that  of  deeper  dye 
Steals  soft  behind  ;  and  then  a  deeper  still. 
In  circle  following  circle,  gathers  round. 
To  close  the  face  of  things.     A  fresher  galo 
Begins  to  wave  the  wood,  and  stir  the  stream, 
Sweeping  with  shadowy  gust  the  fields  of  corn  ; 
While  the  quail  clamors  for  his  running  mate. 
Wide  o'er  the  thistly  lawn,  as  swells  the  breeze, 
A  whitening  shower  of  vegetable  down 
Amusive  floats.     The  kind  impartial  care 
Of  Nature  naught  disdains  :  thoughtful  to  feed 
Her  lowest  sons,  and  clothe  the  coming  year. 
From  field  to  field  the  feathered  seed  she  wings. 


His  folded  flock  secure,  the  shepherd  homo 
Hies,  merry-hearted  ;  and  by  turns  relievos 
The  ruddy  milkmaid  of  her  brimming  pail ; 
The  beauty  whom  perhaps  his  witless  heart, 
Unknowing  what  the  joy-mixed  anguish  means. 
Sincerely  loves,  by  that  best  language  shown 
Of  cordial  glances,  and  obliging  deeds. 
Onward  they  pass,  o'er  many  a  panting  height, 
And  valley  sunk,  and  unfrequented  ;  where 
At  fall  of  eve  the  fairy  people  throng. 
In  various  game  and  revelry,  to  pass 
The  summer  night,  as  village-stories  tell. 
But  far  about  they  wander  from  the  grave 
Of  him,  whom  his  ungentle  fortune  urged 
Against  his  own  sad  breast  to  lift  the  hand 
Of  impious  violence.     The  lonely  tower 
Is  also  shunned  ;  whose  mournful  chambers  hole: 
So  night-struck  Fancy  dreams,  the  yelling  ghost 


Among  the  crooked  lanes,  on  every  hedge,  [dark, 
The  glow-worm  lights  his  gems  ;   and,  through  the 
A  moving  radiance  twinkles.  Evening  yields 
The  world  to  Night ;  not  in  her  winter  robe 
Of  massy  Stygian  woof,  but  loose  arrayed 
In  mantle  dun.     A  faint  erroneous  ray. 
Glanced  from  th'  imperfect  surfaces  of  things. 
Flings  half  an  image  on  the  straining  eye  ; 
While  wavering  woods,  and  villages,  and  streams, 
And  rocks,  and  mountain-tops,  that  long  retained 
Th'  ascending  gloum,  nro  nil  one  swimming  scene, 
Uncertain  if  Inh.  11,     r^u-Min  h>  Heaven 
Thence  weary  vi-inri  turn.-,  uii.  rf,  leading  soft 
The  silent  hours  .if  l..v.'.  «iili  purest  ray 
Sweet  Venus  shines  ;  and  from  her  genial  rise, 
When  daylight  sickens  till  it  springs  afresh. 
Unrivalled  reigns,  the  fairest  lamp  of  Night 


152 


RURAL    POETRY. 


As  thus  th'  effulgence  tremulous  I  drink, 
"With  cherished  gaze,  the  lambent  lightnings  shoot 
Across  the  sky,  or  horizontal  dart 
In  wondrous  shapes  :  by  fearful  murmuring  crowds 
Portentous  deemed.     Amid  the  radiant  orbs 
That  more  than  deck,  that  animate  the  sky, 
The  life-infusing  suns  of  other  worlds  ; 
Lo  !  from  the  dread  immensity  of  spa«e 
Returning,  with  accelerated  course, 
The  rushing  comet  to  the  sun  descends  ; 
And  as  he  sinks  below  the  shading  earth, 
With  awful  train  projected  o'er  the  heavens, 
The  guilty  nations  tremble.     But,  above 
Those  superstitious  horrors  that  enslave 
The  fond,  sequacious  herd,  to  mystic  faith 
And  blind  amazement  prone,  the  enlightened  few, 
Whose  godlike  minda  Philosophy  exalts, 
The  glorious  stranger  hail.     Thy  feel  a  joy 
Divinely  great ;  they  in  their  powers  exult,  — 
That  wondrous  force  of  thought,  which  mounting, 
This  dusky  spot,  and  measures  all  the  sky  ;     [spurns 
While,  from  his  far  excursion  through  the  wilds 
Of  barren  ether,  faithful  to  his  time. 
They  see  the  blazing  wonder  rise  anew, 
In  seeming  terror  clad,  but  kindly  bent 
To  work  the  will  of  all-sustaining  Love : 
From  his  huge  vapory  train  perhaps  to  shake 
Reviving  moisture  on  the  numerous  orbs, 
Through  which  his  long  ellipsis  winds  ;  perhaps 
To  lend  new  fuel  to  declining  suns. 
To  light  up  worlds,  and  feed  the  eternal  fire. 


With  thee,  serene  Philosophy,  with  thee, 
And  thy  bright  garland,  let  me  crown  my  song  ! 
Effusive  source  of  evidence,  and  truth  ! 
A  lustre  shedding  o'er  the  ennobled  mind, 
Stronger  than  summer-noon  ;  and  pure  as  that 
Whose  mild  vibrations  soothe  the  parted  soul, 
New  to  the  dawning  of  celestial  day.  [thee, 

Hence,  through  her  nourished  powers,  enlarged  by 
She  springs  aloft,  with  elevated  pride, 
Above  the  tangling  mass  of  low  desires, 
That  bind  the  fluttering  crowd  ;  and,  angel-winged, 
The  heights  of  science  and  of  virtue  gains, 
Where  all  is  calm  and  clear  ;  with  Nature  round, 
Or  in  the  starry  regions,  or  the  abyss, 
To  Reason's  and  to  Fancy's  eye  displayed  : 
The  First  up-tracing,  from  the  dreary  void. 
The  chain  of  causes  and  effects  to  Him, 
The  world-producing  essence,  who  alone 
Possesses  being  ;  while  the  Last  receives 
The  whole  magnificence  of  heaven  and  earth, 
And  every  beauty,  delicate  or  bold, 
Obvious  or  more  remote,  with  livelier  souse, 
Diffusive  painted  on  the  rapid  mind. 

Tutored  by  thee,  hence  Poetry  exalts 


Her  voice  to  ages,  and  informs  the  page 
With  music,  image,  sentiment,  and  thought. 
Never  to  die  !  the  treasure  of  mankind  ! 
Their  highest  honor,  and  their  truest  joy  ! 


Without  thee  what  were  unenlightened  man? 
A  savage  roaming  through  the  woods  and  wilds 
In  quest  of  prey  ;  and  with  th'  unfashioned  fur 
Rough  clad  ;  devoid  of  every  finer  art, 
And  elegance  of  life.     Nor  happiness 
Domestic,  mixed  of  tenderness  and  care, 
Nor  moral  excellence,  nor  social  bliss, 
Nor  guardian  law  were  his  ;   nor  various  skill 
To  turn  the  furrow,  or  to  guide  the  tool 
Mechanic,  nor  the  heaven-conducted  prow 
Of  navigation  bold,  that  fearless  braves 
The  burning  line  or  dares  the  wintry  pole  ; 
Mother  severe  of  infinite  delights  ! 
Nothing,  save  rapine,  indolence,  and  guile, 
And  woes  on  woes,  a  still-revolving  train  ! 
Whose  horrid  circle  had  made  human  life 
Than  non-existence  worse  :   but,  taught  by  thee, 
Ours  are  the  plans  of  policy  and  peace, 
To  live  like  brothers,  and  conjunctive  all 
Embellish  life. 

PffiLOSOPHT  GUIDES  SOCIETY,  EXPLORES  CREATION,   REVEA 

While  thus  laborious  crowds 
Ply  the  tough  oar,  Philosophy  directs 
The  ruling  helm  ;  or,  like  the  liberal  breath 
Of  potent  Heaven,  invisible,  the  sail 
Swells  out,  and  bears  th'  inferior  world  along. 

Nor  to  this  evanescent  speck  of  earth 
Poorly  confined,  the  radiant  tracts  on  high 
Are  her  exalted  range  ;  intent  to  gaze 
Creation  through  ;  and,  from  that  full  complex 
Of  never-ending  wonders,  to  conceive 
Of  the  Sole  Being  right,  who  spoke  the  Word, 
And  Nature  moved  complete.     With  inward  view 
Thence  on  th'  ideal  kingdom  swift  she  turns 
Her  eye  ;  and,  instant,  at  her  powerful  glance, 
Th'  obedient  phantoms  vanish  or  appear  ; 
Compound,  divide,  and  into  order  shift, 
Each  to  his  rank,  from  plain  perception  up 
To  the  fair  forms  of  Fancy's  fleeting  train  : 
To  reason  then,  deducing  truth  from  truth  ; 
And  notion  quite  abstract  ;  where  first  begins 
The  world  of  spirits,  action  all,  and  life 
Unfettered  and  unmixed. 

DIVINE  LOVE  ASD  WISDOM  EVER  PROGRESSIVE. 

But  here  the  cloud 
(So  wills  eternal  Providence)  sits  deep. 
Enough  for  us  to  know  that  this  dark  state, 
In  wayward  passions  lost,  and  vain  pursuits. 
This  Infancy  of  Being,  cannot  prove 
The  final  issue  of  the  works  of  God, 
By  boundless  Love  and  perfect  Wisdom  formed. 
And  ever  rising  with  the  rising  mind. 


^^:istor;i(s  for  |uiic. 


CUNNINGHAM'S  "DAY.' 


I.v  tho  barn  tho  tenant  cock, 

Close  to  Partlot  perched  on  high, 

Briskly  crows  (the  shepherd's  clock  !), 
Jocund  that  the  morning's  nigh. 

Swiftly  from  the  mountain's  brow 

Shadows,  nursed  by  night,  retire  ; 
And  tho  peeping  sunbeam  now 

Paints  with  gold  the  village  spire. 
Philomel  forsakes  tho  thorn. 

Plaintive  where  she  prates  at  night  ; 
And  tho  lark,  to  meet  the  mom, 

Soars  beyond  the  shepherd's  sight. 
From  the  low-rqofed  cottage  ridge 

See  the  chatt'ring  swallow  spring  ; 
Darting  through  the  one-arched  bridge 

Quick  she  dips  her  dappled  wing. 

Now  tho  pine-tree's  waving  top 
Gently  greets  tho  morning  gale  ! 

K  idlings  now  begin  to  crop 
Daisies  in  the  dewy  vale. 

From  the  balmy  sweets,  uneloyed 
(Restless  till  her  task  be  done), 

Now  the  busy  l)cu  's  employed 

Trirkliii^'  i!ii-UL'Ii  111-'  iTcviced  rock, 

Whnv  tin-  :iiii|:i<l  stn^iim  distils, 
Sweet  rofreshnK-nl  waits  the  flock 

When  't  is  sun-drove  from  tho  hills. 
Anxious  for  the  promised  corn 

(Kro  the  harvest  hopes  are  ripe), 
Colin  hears  the  huntsman's  horn. 

Boldly  sounding,  drown  his  pipe. 
Sweet,  0  sweet,  the  warbling  throng. 

On  the  white  cmblossomed  spray  ! 
Nature's  universal  song 

Echoes  to  the  rising  day. 


Fervid  on  tho  glittering  flood 

Now  the  noontide  radiance  glows 
Drooping  o'er  its  infant  bud. 

Not  a  dew-drop  'e  left  tha  rose. 
By  the  brook  tho  shepherd  dines  ; 

From  the  fierce  meridian  heat 
Sheltered  by  the  branching  pines. 

Pendent  o'er  his  grassy  seat. 


Now  the  flock  forsakes  the  glade, 

Where,  unchecked,  the  sunbeams  fall  j 

Sure  to  find  a  pleasing  shade 
By  tho  ivied  abbey-wall. 


Echo 


iry  I 


O'er  the  river,  rock,  and  hill. 
Cannot  oatch  a  single  sound 
Save  tho  clack  of  yonder  mill. 

Cattle  court  the  zephyrs  bland, 

Where  tho  streamlet  wanders  cool  ; 

Or  with  languid  silence  stand 
Midway  in  the  marshy  pool. 

But  from  mountain,  dell,  or  stream. 
Not  a  fluttering  zephyr  springs  ; 

Fearful  lest  the  noontide  beam 
Scorch  its  soft,  its  silken  wings. 

Not  a  leaf  has  leave  to  stir. 

Nature 's  lulled,  .serene,  and  still  ! 

Quiet  e'en  the  ."hepherd's  cur. 
Sleeping  on  the  heath-clad  hill. 

Languid  is  the  landscape  round, 
Till  the  fresh  descending  shower. 

Grateful  to  the  thir.sty  ground, 
Kaises  every  fainting  flower. 

Now  the  hill,  the  hedge  is  green. 
Now  the  warbler's  throat 's  in  tunc, 

Blithesome  is  the  verdant  scene. 
Brightened  by  the  beams  of  noon  f 


O'er  the  heath  tho  heifer  strays 

Free  —  (the  furrowed  task  is  done)- 
Now  the  village  windows  blaze. 

Burnished  by  the  setting  sun. 
Now  ho  hides  behind  the  hill. 

Sinking  from  a  golden  sky  : 
Can  the  pencil's  mimic  skill 

Copy  the  refulgent  dye  ? 

Trudging  as  tho  ploughmen  go 
(To  tho  smoking  hamlet  bound), 

Giant-like  their  shadows  grow, 
Lengthened  o'er  tho  level  ground. 

Where  the  rising  forest  spreads 
Shelter  for  the  lordly  dome. 

To  their  high-built  airy  beds 
See  the  rooks  returning  homo  ! 


20 


154 


RURAL    POETRY. CUNNINGHAM  —  SHENSTONB  —  OTWA Y. 


As  the  lark  with  yaried  tune 
Carols  to  the  evening  loud, 

Mark  the  mild,  resplendent  moon 
Breaking  through  a  parted  cloud  ! 

Now  the  hermit  howlet  peeps 
From  the  barn,  or  twisted  brake  ; 

And  the  blue  mist  slowly  creeps, 
Curling  on  the  silver  lake. 

As  the  trout,  in  speckled  pride, 
Playful  from  its  bosom  springs. 


To  tlic  banks  a  ru 

ffled  tide 

Verges  in  succc 

ssive 

ings. 

Tripping  through  the  s 
O'er  the  path-divided 

Mark  the  rose-complex 
With  her  well-poised 

Iken  grass, 
dale, 

oned  lass, 
milking-pail 

Linnets,  with  unnumbered  notes. 
And  the  cuckoo-bird  with  two. 

Tuning  sweet  their  mellow  throats, 
Bid  the  setting  sun  adieu. 


SHENSTONE'S   "HOPE." 
Mt  banks  they  are  furnished  with  bees, 

Whose  murmur  invites  one  to  sleep  ; 
My  grottoes  are  shaded  with  trees. 

And  my  hills  are  white  over  with  sheep. 
I  seldom  have  met  with  a  loss. 

Such  health  do  my  fountains  bestow  ; 
My  fountains  all  bordered  with  moss. 

Where  the  hare-bells  and  violets  grow. 

Not  a  pine  in  my  grove  is  there  seen. 

But  with  tendrils  of  woodbine  is  bound  : 
Not  a  beech's  more  beautiful  green. 

But  a  sweetbrier  entwines  it  around. 
Not  my  fields  in  the  prime  of  the  year 

More  charms  than  my  cuttle  unfold  ; 
Not  a  brook  that  is  limpid  and  clear. 

But  it  glitters  with  fishes  of  gold. 

One  would  think  she  might  like  to  retire 

To  the  bower  I  have  labored  to  rear  ; 
Not  a  shrub  that  I  heard  her  admire, 

But  I  hasted  and  planted  it  there. 
0  how  sudden  the  jessamine  strove 

With  the  lilac  to  render  it  gay  ! 
Already  it  calls  for  my  love. 

To  prune  the  wild  branches  away. 

From  the  plains,  from  the  woodlands  and  groves. 

What  strains  of  wild  melody  flow  ! 
How  the  nightingales  warble  their  loves 

From  the  thickets  of  roses  that  blow  ! 
And  when  her  bright  form  shall  appear. 

Bach  bird  shall  harmoniously  join 


In  a  concert  so  soft  and  so  clear. 
As  — she  may  not  be  fond  to  resign. 

I  have  found  out  a  gift  for  my  fair  ; 

I  have  found  where  the  wood-pigeons  breed  : 
But  let  me  that  plunder  forbear, 

She  will  say  't  was  a  barbarous  deed. 
For  he  ne'er  could  be  true,  she  averred. 

Who  could  rob  a  poor  bird  of  its  young  : 
And  I  loved  her  the  more  when  I  heard 

Such  tenderness  fall  from  her  tongue. 

I  have  heard  her  with  sweetness  unfold 

How  that  pity  was  due  to  —  a  dove  : 
That  it  ever  attended  the  bold  ; 

And  she  called  it  the  sister  of  love. 
But  her  words  such  a  pleasure  convey, 

So  much  I  her  accents  adore. 
Let  her  speak,  and  whatever  she  say, 

Methinks  I  should  love  her  the  more. 

Can  a  bosom  so  gentle  remain 

UniiiM\i.!,  wIm  II  1m  I  (""Miydon  sighs  ? 
Will  a  ,1    "  ,    ,      ,    :   I     !  .i,a..f  the  plain, 

ThfT  1.  .11     ,11,1  I  in  ^  vuUey  despise? 
Bear  rc^i'  h-  "I  :iI'  i^''  :iii'l  shade  ! 

Soft  scenes  of  contentment  and  ease  ! 
Where  I  could  have  pleasingly  strayed. 

If  aught  in  her  absence  could  please. 

But  where  does  my  Phyllida  stray  ? 

And  where  are  her  grots  and  her  bowers  ? 
Are  the  groves  and  the  valleys  as  gay. 

And  the  shepherds  as  gentle  as  ours  ? 
The  groves  may  perhaps  be  as  fair, 

And  the  face  of  the  valleys  as  fine. 
The  swains  may  in  manners  compare. 

But  their  love  is  not  equal  to  mine. 


OTWAY'S  "MORNING." 

WiSHEDmorning  's  come  ;  and  now  upon  the  plains 
And  distant  mountains,  where  they  feed  their  flocks. 
The  happy  shepherds  leave  their  homely  huts. 
And  with  their  pipes  proclaim  the  new-born  day. 
The  lusty  swain  comes,  with  his  well-filled  scrip 
Of  healthful  viands,  which,  when  hunger  calls, 
With  much  content  and  appetite  he  eats,  — 
To  follow  in  the  field  his  daily  toil. 
And  dress  the  grateful  glebe  that  yields  him  fruits. 
The  beasts  that  under  the  warm  hedges  slept. 
And  weathered  out  the  cold  bleak  night,  are  up  ; 
And  looking  towards  the  neighboring  pastures,  raise 
Their  voice,  and  bid  their  fellow  brutes  good-mor- 
The  cheerful  birds,  too,  on  the  tops  of  trees,    [row. 
Assemble  all  in  choirs  ;   and  with  their  notes 
Salute  and  welcome  up  the  rising  sun. 


I^iroliiiu'5   "|Jritaniii;i's   '|)astor;ils. 


I  THAT  whilero  near  Tavy's  '  straggling  spring 
Unto  my  silly  sheep  did  use  to  sing, 
And  played  to  please  myself,  on  rustic  reed. 
Nor  sought  for  bays  (the  learned  shepherd's  meed), 
But  as  a  swain  unknown  fed  on  the  plains, 
And  made  the  echo  umpire  of  ray  strains  : 
And  drawn  by  time  (althougli  the  weak'st  of  many). 
To  sing  those  lays  as  yet  unsung  of  any  — 
What  need  I  tune  the  swains  of  Thessaly? 
Or,  bootless,  add  to  them  of  Arcady  ? 
No  :  fair  Arcadia  cannot  he  completer. 
My  praise  may  lessen,  but  not  make  thee  greater. 
My  muso  for  lofty  pitches  shall  not  roam, 
But  homely  pipen  of  her  native  home. 
To  swains  who  love  the  rural  minstrelsy  ; 
Thus,  dear  Britannia,  will  I  sing  of  thee. 


High  on  the  plains  of  that  renowned  isle, ' 
Which  all  men  beauty's  garden-plot  instile, 
A  shepherd  dwelt,  whom  fortune  had  made  rich 
With  all  the  gifts  that  silly  men  bewitch. 
Near  him  a  shepherdess,  for  beauty's  store 
Unparalleled  of  any  age  before. 
Within  those  breasts  her  face  a  flame  did  move, 
Which  never  knew  before  what  'twas  to  love,  — 
Dazzling  each  shepherd's  sight  that  viewed  her  eyes. 
And  as  the  Pci-sians  did  idolatrize 
Unto  the  sun  :  tliey  thought  that  Cynthia's  light 
Might  well  be  spared,  where  she  appeared  in  night; 
And  as  when  many  to  the  goal  do  run, 
The  prize  is  given  never  but  to  one  : 
So  first  and  only  Celandine  was  led. 
Of  destinies  and  heaven  much  favored. 
To  gain  this  beauty,  which  I  hero  do  offer 
To  memory  :  his  pains  (who  would  not  proffer 
Pains  for  such  pleasures  ?)  were  not  great  nor  much, 
But  that  his  labor's  recompense  was  such 
As  countervailed  all  :  for  she  whoso  passion 
(And  passion  oft  is  love),  whoso  inclination 
Bent  all  her  course  to  him-waids,  let  him  know 

1  Til.'  si.-.nes  i.r  Ihcst-  p:ist.ir;il3  lire  laid  in  the  south  part 


in  1025.     WillLiui  lirow.if  Uitd,  probably,  iu  IBOo. 

-  Tavy  is  n  river,  having  his  head  in  Dartmoor  in  Devon, 
some  few  miles  from  Mary-Tavy,  and  falls  southward  into 
Tamar.  •>  Great  Britain. 


Ho  was  the  elm  whereby  her  vino  did  grow  : 
Yea,  told  him,  when  his  tongue  began  this  task, 
She  know  not  to  deny  when  ho  would  ask. 
Finding  his  suit  as  quickly  got  as  moved, 
Celandine,  in  his  thoughts  not  well  approved 
What  none  could  disallow,  his  love  grew  feigned, 
And  what  he  once  affected,  now  disdained. 
But  fair  Maiinn  (fnr  so  was  she  called) 
Having  ill  Ci  lairliii.   Iirr  li.ve  in-'tallcd, 
Affccti-il  -.1  iIm-  hiitli!.  --  -hephcrd's  boy, 
ThatsiR-  «a-  lapt  li.  VMiid  degree  of  joy. 
Briefly,  she  could  not  live  one  hour  without  him, 
And  thought  no  joy  like  theirs  that  lived  about  him. 

This  varioblo  shepherd  for  a  while 
Did  nature's  jewel,  by  his  craft,  beguile  : 
And  still  the  pcrfecter  her  lovo  did  grow, 
Ilis  did  appear  more  counterfeit  in  show. 
Which  she  perceiving  that  his  flame  did  slake, 
And  loved  her  only  for  his  trophy's  sake  : 
'For  he  that's  stuffed  with  a  faithless  tumor, 
Loves  only  for  his  lust  and  for  his  humor  ; ' 
And  that  he  often  in  his  merry  fit 
Would  say,  his  good  came  ere  he  hoped  for  it : 
His  thoughts  for  other  subjects  being  pressed, 
Esteeming  that  as  naught  which  he  possessed  : 
'  For  what  is  gotten  but  with  little  pain. 
As  little  grief  we  take  to  lose  again  : ' 
Well-minded  Marine,  grieving,  thought  it  strange 
That  her  ungrateful  swain  did  seek  for  change. 
Still  by  degrees  her  cares  grew  to  the  full, 
Joys,  to  the  wane  :  heart-rending  grief  did  pull 
Her  from  herself,  and  she  abandoned  all 
To  cries  and  tears,  fruits  of  a  funeral  : 
Running  the  mountains,  fields,  by  watery  springs, 
Filling  each  cave  with  woful  cchoings  ; 
Making  in  thousand  places  her  complaint. 
And  uttering  to  the  trees  what  her  tears  meant.  *  ♦ 


'  AVoulil  she  be  won  with  me  to  stay. 
My  waters  should  bring  from  the  sea 
The  coral  red,  as  tribute  due, 
And  roundest  pearls  of  orient  hue  : 
Or  in  the  richer  veins  of  ground 
Should  seek  for  her  the  diamond  ; 
And  whereas  now  unto  my  spring 
They  nothing  else  but  gravel  bring, 
They  should  within  a  niino  of  gold 
In  piercing  manner  long  time  hold. 
And  having  it  to  dust  well  wrought. 
By  them  it  hither  should  bo  brought ; 


156 


BURAL   POETKY. — W.    BROWNE. 


With  which  I  'II  pave  and  overspread 
My  bottom^  where  her  foot  shall  tread. 
The  best  of  fishes  in  my  flood 
Shall  give  themselves  to  be  her  food. 
The  trout,  the  dace,  the  pike,  the  bream, 
The  eel,  that  loves  the  troubled  stream, 
The  miller's  thumb,  the  hiding  loach, 
The  perch,  the  ever-nibbling  roach, 
The  shoates  with  whom  is  Tavy  fraught, 
The  foolish  gudgeon,  quiclily  caught, 
And  last  the  little  minnow  fish, 
Whose  chief  delight  in  gravel  is.     *     * 

•ORE   MiRINA,   ADMINISTER  AN     O 


GROVE  DESCRIBED  }   TREES  AND   THEIR  QDALITIES. 

Then  walked  they  to  a  grove  but  near  at  hand, 
Where  fiery  Titan  had  but  small  command. 
Because  the  leaves  conspiring  kept  his  beams, 
For  fear  of  hurting,  when  he  is  in  extremes. 
The  under-flowers,  which  did  enrich  the  ground 
With  sweeter  scents  than  in  Arabia  found.       [hale. 
The  earth  doth  yield,  which  they  through  pores  ex- 
Earth's  best  of  odors,  the  aromatical  : 
Like  to  that  smell,  which  oft  our  sense  descries 
Within  a  field  which  long  unploughed  lies. 
Somewhat  before  the  setting  of  the  sun  ; 
And  where  the  rainbow  in  the  horizon 
Doth  pitch  her  tips  ;  or  as  when  in  the  prime, 
The  earth  being  troubled  with  a  drought  long  time, 
The  hand  of  heaven  his  spongy  clouds  doth  strain, 
And  throws  into  her  lap  a  shower  of  rain  ; 
She  sendeth  up  (conceived  from  the  sun) 
A  sweet  perfume  and  exhalation. 
Not  all  the  ointments  brought  from  Dclos'  isle. 
Nor  from  the  confines  of  seven-headed  Nile  ; 
Nor  that  brought  whence  Phojnicians  have  abodes  ; 
Nor  Cyprus'  wild  vine-flowers ;  nor  that  of  Rhodes  ; 
Nor  rose's  oil  from  Naples,  Capua  ; 
Safi"ron  confected  in  Cilicia  ; 
Nor  that  of  quinces,  nor  of  marjoram. 
That  ever  from  the  isle  of  Coos  came. 
Nor  these,  nor  any  else,  though  ne'er  so  rare, 
Could  with  this  place  for  sweetest  smells  compare. 
There  stood  the  elm,'  whose  shade  so  mildly  dim 
Doth  nourish  all  that  groweth  under  him. 
Cypress  that  like  pyramids  run  topping, 
And  hurt  the  least  of  any  by  their  dropping. 
The  alder,  whose  fat  shadow  nourisheth, 
Each  plant  set  near  to  him  long  flourisheth. 
The  heavy-headed  plane-tree,  by  whose  shade 
The  grass  grows  thickest,  men  are  fresher  made. 
The  oak,  that  best  endures  the  thunder  shocks  ; 
The  everlasting  ebony,  cedar,  box  ; 
The  olive  that  in  wainscot  never  cleaves  ; 
The  amorous  vine  which  in  the  elm  still  weaves. 
The  lotus,  juniper,  where  worms  ne'er  enter  : 
The  pine,  with  whom  men  through  the  ocean  venture ; 
The  warlike  yew,  by  which  (more  than  the  lance) 
The  strong-armed  English  spirits  conquered  France. 


I  See  Spenser's  Faery  Queene,  I 


,  St.  8,  9. 


Amongst  the  rest  the  tamarisk  there  stood. 

For  housewives'  besoms  only  known  most  good. 

The  cold  place-loving  birch,  and  scrvis  tree  : 

The  walnut-loving  vales  and  mulberry. 

The  maple,  ash,  that  do  delight  in  fountains. 

Which  have  their  currents  by  the  sides  of  mountains. 

The  laurel,  myrtle,  ivy,  date,  which  hold 

Their  leaves  all  winter,  be  it  ne'er  so  cold. 

The  fir,  that  oftentimes  doth  rosin  drop  ; 

The  beech,  that  scales  the  welkin  with  his  top. 

All  these,  and  thousand  more  within  this  grove, 

By  all  the  industry  of  nature  strove 

To  frame  an  arbor  that  might  keep  within  it 

The  best  of  beauties  that  the  world  hath  in  it.  »  * 


As  I  have  seen  upon  a  bridal  day 
Full  many  maids  clad  in  their  best  array. 
In  honor  of  the  bride,  come  with  their  flaskets 
Filled  full  with  flowers,  others  in  wicker-baskets 
Bring  from  the  marish  rushes,  to  o'erspread 
The  ground,  whereon  to  church  the  lovers  tread  ; 
Whilst  that  the  quaintest  youth  of  all  the  plain 
Ushers  their  way  with  many  a  piping  strain  : 
So,  as  in  joy,  at  this  fair  river's  birth, 
Triton  came  up  a  channel  withfcis  mirth,        [turn, 
And  called  the  neighboring  nymphs,  each  in  her 
To  pour  their  pretty  rivulets  from  their  urn, 
To  wait  upon  this  new-delivered  spring.' 
Some  running  through  the  meadows,  with  them  bring 
Cowslip  and  mint ;  and  't  is  another's  lot 
To  light  upon  some  gardener's  curious  knot. 
Whence  she  upon  her  breast  (love's  sweet  repose) 
Doth  bring  the  queen  of  flowers,  the  English  rose. 
Some  from  the  fen  bring  reeds,  wild-thyme  from 

downs  ; 
Some  from  a  grove  the  bay  that  poets  crowns  ; 
Some  from  an  aged  rock  the  moss  hath  torn. 
And  leaves  him  naked  unto  winter's  storm  : 
Another  from  her  banks,  in  mere  good  will, 
Brings  nutriment  for  fish,  the  camomill. 
Thus  all  bring  somewhat,  and  do  overspread 
The  way  the  spring  unto  the  sea  doth  tread. 


Thus  while  the  flood  which  yet  the  rock  up-pent, 
And  sutfered  not  with  jocund  merriment 
To  tread  rounds  in  his  spring,  came  rushing  forth. 
As  angry  that  his  waves,  he  thought,  of  worth 
Should  not  have  liberty,  nor  help  the  prime. 
And  as  some  ruder  swain,  composing  rhyme. 
Spends  many  a  gray  goose-quill  unto  the  handle. 
Buries  within  his  socket  many  a  candle. 
Blots  paper  by  the  quire,  and  dries  up  ink. 
As  Xerxes'  army  did  whole  rivers  drink. 
Hoping  thereby  his  name  his  work  should  raise, 
That  it  should  live  until  the  last  of  days  ; 
Which  finished,  he  boldly  doth  address 
Him  and  his  works  to  undergo  the  press  ; 


SUMMER — JULY. 


157 


When,  lo,  0  fttto  !  his  work  not  seeming  6t 

To  walk  in  equipage  with  better  wit, 

Is  kept  from  light,  there  giiawn  by  moths  and  worms, 

At  which  he  frets  :  right  so  this  river  storms. 

But  broken  forth,  as  Tavy  creeps  upon 

The  western  vales  of  fertile  .Albion, 

Hero  dashes  roughly  on  an  aged  rock. 

That  his  intended  passage  doth  up-lock  ; 

There  intricately  'mongst  the  woods  doth  wander. 

Losing  himself  in  many  a  wry  meander  ; 

Here  amorously  bent,  clips  some  fair  mead  ; 

And,  then  dispersed  in  rills,  doth  measure  tread 

Upon  her  bosom  'mongst  her  flowery  ranks  ; 

There  in  another  place  bears  down  the  banks 

Of  some  day-laboring  wretch  ;  here  meets  a  rill, 

And  with  their  forces  joined  cut  out  a  mill 

Into  an  island,  then  in  jocund  guise 

Surveys  his  conquest,  lauds  his  enterprise  ; 

Here  digs  a  oave  at  some  high  mountain's  foot  ; 

There  undermines  an  oak,  tears  up  his  root  ; 

Thence  rushing  to  some  country  farm  at  hand. 

Breaks  o'er  the  yeoman's  mounds,  sweeps  from  bis 

His  harvest  hope  of  wheat,  of  rye,  or  peas,       [land 

And  makes  that  channel  which  was  shepherd's  lease. 

THg  SLEEP  Of  INNOCENCE  ;  KUBSE  ;  BADE  ;  THE  DEAD  OIRL. 

But  as  when  some  kind  nurse  doth  longtime  keep 
Her  pretty  babe  at  suck,  vihom  fallen  asleep 
She  lays  down  in  his  cradle,  stints  his  cry 
With  many  a  sweet  and  pleasing  lullaby  ; 
Whilst  the  sweet  child,  not  troubled  with  the  shock. 
As  sweetly  slumbers  as  his  nurse  doth  rock. 
So  laid  the  maid,  the  amazed  swain  sat  weeping. 
And  death  in  her  was  dispossessed  by  sleeping. 
The  roaring  voice  of  winds,  the  billows'  raves, 
Nor  all  the  muttering  of  the  sullen  waves. 
Could  once  disquiet,  or  her  slumber  stir  ; 
But  lulled  her  more  asleep  than  wakened  her. 
Such  are  their  states  whose  souls  from  foul  offence 
Enthroned  sit  in  spotless 


SlOnr,   THE   Xir.IITINOALE,   AND   THE   LOVER. 

Now  had  the  glorious  sun  ta'en  up  his  inn, 
And  all  the  lamps  of  heaven  enlightened  been. 
Within  the  gloomy  shades  of  some  thick  spring, 
Sad  Philomela  'gan  on  the  hawthorn  sing  — 
Whilst  every  beast  at  rest  was  lowly  laid  — 
The  outrage  done  upon  a  silly  maid. 
All  things  were  hushed,  each  birtl  slept  on  his  bough; 
And  night  gave  rest  to  him  day-tired  at  plough  ; 
Each  beast,  each  bird,  and  each  day-toiling  wight, 
Roceivcd  the  comfort  of  the  silent  night ; 
Kri'f  fnnn  tin'  gripes  of  sorrow  every  one, 
Kxfcpt  pnrir  I'liilninel  and  Doridon  ; 
She  on  a  thorn  ..^iii^s  sweet  though  sighing  strains; 
He  on  a  couch  more  soft,  more  sad  complains  ; 
Whose  in-pont  thoughts  him  long  time  having  pained. 
He  sighing  wept,  and  weeping  thus  complained.  *  * 

A  MORNISO  CONCERT  OE  BIRDS. 

Two  nights  thus  passed.     The  lily-handed  morn 
Saw  Phcebus  stealing  dew  from  Ceres'  corn. 


The  mounting  lark  (day's  herald)  got  on  wing. 

Bidding  each  bird  choose  out  his  bough  and  sing. 

The  lofty  treble  sung  the  little  wren  ; 

Kobin  the  mean,  that  best  of  all  loves  men  ; 

The  nightingale  the  tenor,  and  the  thrush 

The  counter-tenor  sweetly  in  a  bush  : 

And,  that  the  music  might  be  full  in  parts. 

Birds  from  the  groves  flew  with  right  willing  hearts; 

But,  as  it  seemed,  they  thought  (iw  do  the  swains 

Who  tune  their  pipes  on  sacked  Hibernia's  plains) 

There  should  some  droning  part  be,  therefore  willed 

Some  bird  to  fly  into  a  neighboring  field, 

In  embassy  unto  the  king  of  bees. 

To  aid  his  partners  on  the  flowers  and  trees  : 

Who  condescending  gladly  flew  along 

To  bear  the  bass  to  his  wcU-tuned  song. 

The  crow  was  willing  they  should  be  beholden 

For  his  deep  voice  ;  but,  being  hoarse  with  scolding, 

He  thus  lends  aid  :  upon  an  oak  doth  climb. 

And,  nodding  with  his  heiui,  so  keepcth  time. 

0,  true  delight !  enharboring  the  breasts 
Of  those  sweet  creatures  with  the  plumy  crests. 
Had  Nature  unto  man  such  simpl'csso  given. 
He  would,  like  birds,  be  far  more  near  to  heaven.  * 


B0I.IDAV  i  DANCE  J   NAMES. 

Come,  drive  your  sheep  to  their  appointed  feeding, 
And  make  you  one  at  this,  our  merry  meeting. 
Full  many  a  shepherd  with  his  lovely  lass 
Sit  telling  talcs  upon  the  clover  grass  ; 
There  is  the  merry  shepherd  of  the  hole  ; 
Thenot,  Piers.  Nilkin,  Duddy,  Hobbinoll, 
Alexis,  Silvan,  Teddy  of  the  glen, 
Rowly,  and  Perigot,  hero  by  the  fen. 
With  many  more,  I  cannot  reckon  all 
That  meet  to  solemnize  this  festival. 

I  grieve  not  at  their  mirth,  said  Doridon  ; 
Yet  had  there  been  of  feasts  not  any  one. 
Appointed  or  commanded,  you  will  say, 
'  Where  there's  content 't  is  over  holiday.' 

Leave  further  talk,  quoth  Remond,  Jet 's  be  gone, 
I'll  help  you  with  your  sheep,  the  time  draws  on. 
Fida  will  call  the  hind,  and  come  with  us. 

Thus  went  they  on,  and  Remond  did  discuss 
Their  cause  of  meeting,  till  they  won  with  pacing 
The  circuit  chosen  for  the  maiden's  tracing. 


SCENE   OF   THE   DANCE   1 

It  was  a  rundle  seated  on  a  plain. 
That  stood  as  sentinel  unto  the  main, 
Environed  round  with  trees  and  many  an  arbor. 
Wherein  melodious  birds  did  nightly  harbor  ; 
And  on  a  bough  within  the  quickening  spring, 
AVould  bo  a-teaching  of  their  young  to  sing  ; 
Whose  pleasing  notes  the  tired  swain  have  made 
To  steal  a  nap  at  noontide  in  the  shade. 
Nature  herself  did  there  in  triumph  ride. 
And  made  that  place  the  ground  of  all  her  pride. 
Whose  various  flowers  deceived  the  rasher  eye. 
In  taking  them  for  curious  tapestry. 
A  silver  spring  forth  of  a  rook  did  fall. 
That  in  a  drought  did  servo  to  water  all. 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  W.    BROWNE. 


Upon  the  edges  of  a  grassy  bank, 

A  tuft  of  trees  grew  circling  in  a  rank, 

As  if  they  seemed  their  sports  to  gaze  upon, 

Or  stood  as  guard  against  the  wind  and  sun  : 

So  fair,  so  fresh,  so  green,  so  sweet  a  ground. 

The  piercing  eyes  of  heaven  yet  never  found. 

Here  Doridon  already  met  doth  see, 

(0,  who  would  not  at  such  a  meeting  be  ?) 

Where  he  might  doubt,  who  gave  to  other  grace, 

Whether  the  place  the  maids,  or  maids  the  place. 

Here  'gan  the  reed  and  merry  bagpipe  play. 

Shrill  as  a  thrush  upon  a  morn  of  May 

(A  rural  music  for  a  heavenly  train). 

And  every  shepherdess  danced  with  her  swain. 


As  when  some  gale  of  wind  doth  nimbly  take 
A  fair,  white  lock  of  wool,  and  with  it  make 
Some  pretty  driving  ;  here  it  sweeps  the  plain, 
There  stays,  here  hops,   there  mounts,  and  turns 
Yet  all  so  quick,  that  none  so  soon  can  say  [again ; 
That  now  it  stops,  or  leaps,  or  turns  away  : 
So  was  their  dancing,  none  looked  thereupon. 
But  thought  their  several  motions  to  be  one. 

A  crooked  measure  was  their  first  election. 
Because  all  crooked  tends  to  best  perfection. 
And  as  I  ween  this  often  bowing  measure 
Was  chiefly  framed  for  the  women's  pleasure, 
Though,  like  the  rib,  they  crooked  are  and  bending, 
Yet  to  the  best  of  forms  they  aim  their  ending  : 
Next  in  an  (I)  their  measure  made  a  rest, 
Showing  when  love  is  plainest  it  is  best. 
Then  in  a  (Y)  which  thus  doth  love  commend, 
Making  of  two  at  first,  one  in  the  end. 
And  lastly  closing  in  a  round  do  enter, 
Placing  the  lusty  shepherds  in  the  centre  : 
About  the  swains  they  danciug  seemed  to  roll, 
As  other  planets  round  the  heavenly  pole. 
Who,  by  their  sweet  aspect  or  chiding  frown, 
Could  raise  a  shepherd  up  or  cast  him  down. 


Thus  were  they  circled  till  a  swain  came  near. 
And  sent  this  song  unto  each  shepherd's  ear  : 
The  note  and  voice  so  sweet,  that  for  such  mirth 
The  gods  would  leave  the  heavens  and  dwell  on  earth : 
Happy  are  you  so  enclosed, 
May  the  maids  be  still  disposed, 
In  their  gestures  and  their  dances, 


■-  yoi 


ith( 


That  envy  wish  in  such  combining, 

Fortune's  smile  with  happy  chances. 
Here  it  seems  as  if  the  graces 
Measured  out  the  plain  in  traces. 

In  a  shepherdess  disguising. 

Are  the  spheres  so  nimbly  turning, 

Wand'ring  lamps  in  heaven  burning, 

To  the  eye  so  mueh  enticing? 

Yes,  heaven  means  to  take  these  thither. 

And  add  one  joy  to  see  both  danco  together. 


Gentle  nymphs,  be  not  refusing, 
Love's  neglect  is  Time's  abusing. 

They  and  Jbeauty  are  but  lent  you  ; 
Take  the  one  and  keep  the  other  : 
Love  keeps  fresh  what  age  doth  smother, 

Beauty  gone  you  will  repent  you. 
'Twill  be  said,  when  ye  have  proved, 
Never  swains  more  truly  loved  ; 

0,  then  fly  all  nice  behavior. 
Pity  fain  would,  as  her  duty, 
Be  attending  still  on  beauty. 

Let  her  not  be  out  of  favor. 
Disdain  is  now  so  much  rewarded, 
That  pity  weeps  since  she  is  unregarded. 


The  measure  and  the  song  here  being  ended,  j 

Each  swain  his  thoughts  thus  to  his  love  commended : 
The  first  presents  his  dog,  with  these  : 
When  I  my  flock  near  you  do  keep, 
And  bid  my  dog  go  take  a  sheep. 
He  clean  mistakes  what  I  bid  do. 
And  bends  his  pace  still  towards  you. 
Poor  wretch,  he  knows  more  care  I  keep 
To  get  you  than  a  silly  sheep. 
The  second,  his  pipe,  with  these  : 

Bid  me  to  sing,  fair  maid,  my  song  shall  prove. 
That  ne'er  has  truer  pipe  sung  truer  love. 
The  third,  a  pair  of  gloves,  thus  : 

These  will  keep  your  hands  from  burning, 
Whilst  the  sun  is  swiftly  turning  ; 
But  who  can  any  veil  devise 
To  shield  my  heart  from  your  fair  eyes  ? 
The  fourth,  an  anagram.  —  Maiden  aid  men  : 
Maidens  should  be  aiding  men, 
And  for  love  give  love  again  ;   *  *  * 
The  fifth,  a  ring,  with  a  picture  in  a  jewel  on  it ; 
Nature  hath  framed  a  gem  beyond  compare, 
The  world 's  the  ring,  but  you  the  jewel  are. 
The  sixth,  a  nosegay  of  roses,  with  a  nettle  in  it  : 
Such  is  the  poesie  love  composes, 
A  stinging-nettle  mixed  with  roses. 
The  seventh,  a  girdle  : 
This  during  light  I  give  to  clip  your  waist  ; 
Fair,  grant  mine  arms  that  place  when  day  is  past. 


Whilst  every  one  was  offering  at  the  shrine 
Of  such  rare  beauties  might  be  styled  divine, 
This  lamentable  voice  towards  them  flies  : 
'  0  Heaven,  send  aid,  or  else  a  maiden  dies  ! ' 
Herewith  some  ran  the  way  the  voice  them  led  ; 
Some  with  the  maidens  stayed,  who  shook  for  dread; 
What  was  the  cause  time  serves  not  now  to  tell.  — 
Hark  !  for  my  jolly  wether  rings  his  bell, 
And  almost  all  our  flocks  have  left  to  graze  ; 
Shepherds,  'tis  almost  night,  hie  home  apace  ; 
When  next  we  meet,  as  we  shall  meet  ere  long, 
I'll  tell  the  rest  in  some  ensuing  song.     *     *     * 


%\\x[\[  (Ohs  for  3IU11C. 


WARTON-S   "IIA:\ILET." 

WRITTEN   I.N   WUICOWOOD   FOREST. 

The  hinds  how  blest,  who,  ne'er  beguiled 
To  quit  their  hamlet's  hawthorn  wild. 
Nor  haunt  the  crowd,  nor  tempt  the  main, 
For  splendid  care,  and  guilty  gain  ! 

When  morning's  twilight-tinctured  beam 
Strikes  their  low  thatch  with  slanting  gleam. 
They  rove  abroad  in  other  blue, 
To  dip  the  scythe  in  fragrant  dew, 
The  sheaf  to  bind,  the  beech  to  fell, 
That,  nodding,  shades  a  craggy  dell. 

Wild  naturi-'s  ^^Vl■L■tl■<t  n.ites  they  hear  : 

The^hyariiith's  neglo.-ted  hue  ; 
In  their  lone  haunt-*  and  woodland  rounds, 
They  spy  the  squirrel's  airy  bounds  ; 
And  startle  from  her  ashen  spray. 
Across  the  glen,  the  screaming  jay  ; 
Each  native  charm  their  stops  explore 
Of  .Solitude's  sequestered  store. 

For  them  the  moon,  with  cloudless  ray. 
Mounts  to  illume  their  homeward  way  : 
Their  weary  spirits  to  relieve. 
The  meadows  incense  breathe  at  eve. 
No  riot  mars  the  simple  fare. 
That  o'er  a  glimmering  hearth  they  share  : 
But  when  the  night-bell's  measured  roar 
Duly,  the  darkening  valleys  o'er. 
Has  echoed  from  the  distant  town  ; 
They  wish  no  beds  of  cygnct-<lown. 
No  trophied  canopies,  to  close 
Their  drooping  eyes  in  quick  repose. 

The  little  sons,  who  spread  the  bloom 
Of  health  around  tho  elay-built  room, 
Or  through  tho  primrosed  coppice  stray. 
Or  gambol  in  the  new-mown  hay, 
Or  quaintly  braid  the  cowslip-twine, 
Or  drive  afield  the  tardy  kine  ; 
Or  hasten  from  the  sultry  hill, 
To  loiter  at  the  shady  rill  ; 
Or  climb  the  tall  pine's  gloomy  crest, 
To  rob  tho  raven's  ancient  nest. 

Their  humble  porch  with  honeyed  flowers 
The  curling  woodbine's  shade  embowers  ; 
From  the  trim  garden's  thymy  mound 
Their  bees  in  busy  swarms  resound  : 


Nor  fell  disease,  before  his  time, 
Hastos  to  consume  life's  golden  prime 
But  when  their  temples  long  have  wo 
The  silver  croivn  of  tresses  hoar  ; 
As  studious  still  calm  peace  to  keep. 
Beneath  a  flowery  turf  they  sleep. 


BRYANT'S  "SONG  OF  WOOING.' 


Nympli-  [■  '   '  I  ,  ^1-  near 

Prc?stl,.   -,   i.  ,.    ;  ..,.^..„s? 
Ah,  thi-y  -li-  ii  .11  I. mil  too  oft 

To  the  careless  wooer  ; 
Maidens'  hearts  are  always  soft. 

Would  that  men's  were  truer  ! 
Woo  the  fair  one,  when  around 

Early  birds  are  singing  ; 
When,  o'er  all  the  fragrant  ground. 

Early  herbs  are  springing  : 
When  the  brookside,  bank,  and  grove, 

All  with  blossoms  laden. 
Shine  with  beauty,  breathe  of  love,  — 

Woo  the  timid  maiden. 

Woo  her,  when,  with  rosy  blush, 

Summer  eve  is  sinking  ; 
When,  on  rills  that  softly  gush. 

Stars  are  softly  winking  ; 
When,  through  boughs  that  knit  the  bower. 

Moonlight  gleams  are  stealing  ; 
Woo  her,  till  the  gentle  hour 

Wakes  a  gentler  feeling. 

"Woo  her,  win  ri  autumnal  dyes 


t  fast 


lu  til.;  hall-rhukcd  foun 
Let  the  scene,  that  tells  hi 

Youth  is  passing  over, 
Warn  her,  ero  her  bloom  is  past, 

To  secure  her  lover. 

Woo  her,  when  the  north  winds  call 

At  tho  lattice  nightly  ; 
When,  within  the  cheerful  hall. 

Blaze  the  fagots  brightly  ; 
While  the  wintry  tempest  round 

Sweeps  the  landscape  hoary. 
Sweeter  in  her  car  shall  sound 

Love's  delightful  story. 


160 


RURAL    POETRY. DAWES MOTHERWELL. 


DAWES'S  "SPIRIT  OF  BEAUTY." 

The  Spirit  of  Beauty  unfurls  her  light, 
And  wheels  her  course  in  a  joyous  flight : 
I  know  her  track  through  the  balmy  air, 
By  the  blossoms  that  cluster  and  whiten  there  ; 
She  leaves  the  tops  of  the  mountains  green, 
And  gems  the  valley  with  crystal  sheen. 

At  morn,  I  know  where  she  rested  at  night, 
For  the  roses  are  gushing  with  dewy  delight ; 
Then  she  mounts  again,  and  around  her  flings 
A  shower  of  light  from  her  purple  wings, 
Till  the  spirit  is  drunk  with  the  music  on  high, 
That  silently  fills  it  with  ecstasy  ! 

At  noon,  she  hies  to  a  cool  retreat. 

Where  'bowering  elms  o'er  waters  meet  ; 

She  dimples  the  wave,  where  the  green  leaves  dip, 

That  smiles,  as  it  curl.",  like  a  maiden's  lip. 

When  her  tremulous  bosom  would  hide,  in  vain, 

From  her  lover,  the  hope  that  she  loves  again. 

At  eve,  she  hangs  o'er  the  western  sky 
Dark  clouds  for  a  glorious  canopy  ; 
And  round  the  skirts  of  each  sweeping  fold 
She  paints  a  border  of  crimson  and  gold, 
Where  the  lingering  sunbeams  love  to  stay. 
When  their  god  in  his  glory  has  passed  away. 
She  hovers  around  us  at  twilight  hour, 
When  her  presence  is  felt  with  the  deepest  power; 
She  mellows  the  landscape,  and  crowds  the  stream 
With  shadows  that  flit  like  a  fairy  dream  :  — 
Still  wheeling  her  flight  through  the  gladsome  air. 
The  spirit  of  Beauty  is  everywhere  ! 


MOTHERWELL'S  "  SUMMER  MONTHS." 

They  come  !  the  merry  Summer  months 

Of  beauty,  love,  and  flowers  ; 
They  come  !  the  gladsome  months  that  bring 

Thick  leafiness  to  bowers. 
Up,  up,  my  heart !  and  walk  abroad, 

Fling  work  and  care  aside  ; 
Seek  silent  hills,  or  rest  thyself 

Where  peaceful  waters  glide  ; 
Or  underneath  the  shadow  vast 

Of  patriarchal  trees, 
See  through  its  leaves  the  cloudless  sky 

In  rapt  tranquillity. 

The  grass  is  soft ;  its  velvet  touch 

Is  grateful  to  the  hand  ; 
And,  like  the  kiss  of  maiden  love. 

The  breeze  is  sweet  and  bland  ; 
The  daisy  and  the  buttercup 

Are  nodding  courteously  ; 


It  stirs  their  blood  with  kindest  love, 

To  bless  and  welcome  thee. 
,    And  mark  how  with  thine  own  thin  looks, 

They  now  are"silvery  gray,  — 
That  blissful  breeze  is  wantoning. 

And  whispering,  '  Be  gay  ! ' 

There  is  no  cloud  that  sails  along 

The  ocean  of  yon  sky. 
But  hath  its  own  winged  mariners 

To  give  it  melody. 
Thou  see'st  their  glittering  fans  outspread. 

All  gleaming  like  red  gold  ; 
And,  hark  !  with  shrill  pipe  musical, 

Their  merry  course  they  hold. 
God  bless  them  all,  these  little  ones. 

Who,  far  above  this  earth. 
Can  make  a  scoff  of  its  mean  joys, 

And  vent  a  nobler  mirth. 

But,  soft !  mine  ear  upcaught  a  sound  — 

From  yonder  wood  it  came  ; 
The  spirit  of  the  dim  green  glade 

Did  breathe  bis  own  glad  name. 
Yes,  it  is  he  !  the  hermit  bird. 

That,  apart  from  all  his  kind. 
Slow  spells  his  beads  monotonous 

To  the  soft  western  wind. 
Cuckoo  !  cuckoo  !  he  sings  again  — 

His  notes  are  void  of  art. 
But  simplest  strains  do  soonest  sound 

The  deep  founts  of  the  heart. 

Good  Lord  !  it  is  a  gracious  boon 

For  thought-crazed  wight  like  me. 
To  smell  again  these  summer  flowers. 

Beneath  this  summer  tree  ! 
To  suck  once  more,  in  every  breath, 

Their  little  souls  away. 
And  feed  my  fancy  with  fond  dreams 

Of  youth's  bright  summer  day  ; 
When  rushing  forth,  like  untamed  colt, 

The  reckless  truant  boy 
Wandered  through  green  woods  all  day  long, 

A  mighty  heart  of  joy  ! 

I'm  sadder  now  —  I  have  had  cause  ; 

But,  0  !  I  'm  proud  to  think 
That  each  pure  joy-fount  loved  of  yore 

I  yet  delight  to  drink  ; 
Leaf,  blossom,  blade,  hill,  valley,  stream. 

The  calm,  unclouded  sky. 
Still  mingle  music  with  my  dream, 

As  in  the  djLvs  gone  by. 
When  Suiiiimr's  Iiivoliness  and  light 

Full  ro\iiiil  mo  dark  and  cold, 
I  'U  bear  indeed  life's  heaviest  cnrse,  — 

A  heart  that  hath  waxed  old. 


STason's  "(LMU](is()   6arhu." 


DEDICATION  TO  SIMPUCITr,  THE  ABBITRESS. 

To  thee,  divine  Simplicity  !  to  thee, 
Best  arbitress  of  what  is  good  and  fair. 
This  verse  belongs.     0,  as  it  freely  flows, 
Give  it  thy  powers  of  pleasing  :  else  in  vain 
It  strives  to  teach  the  rules,  from  Nature  drawn, 
Of  import  high  to  those  whose  taste  would  add 
To  Nature's  careless  graces  ;  loveliest  then, 
When,  o'er  her  form,  thy  easy  skill  has  taught 
The  robe  of  Spring  in  ampler  folds  to  flow. 
Haste,  Goddess  !  to  the  woods,  the  lawns,  the  vales; 
That  lie  in  rude  luxuriance,  and  but  wait 
Thy  call  to  bloom  with  beauty.     I,  meanwhile, 
Attendant  on  thy  state  serene,  will  mark 
Its  faery  progress  ;  wake  th'  accordant  string  ; 
And  tell  how  far,  beyond  the  transient  glare 
Of  fickle  fashion,  or  of  formal  art, 
Thy  flowery  works  with  charm  perennial  please. 

INVOCATION  TO   POETIC  AND   ARTISTIC  FANCY. 

Ye  too,  ye  sister  Powers  !  that  at  my  birth 
Auspicious  smiled  ;  and  o'er  my  cradle  dropped 
Those  magic  seeds  of  Fancy,  which  produce 
A  Poet's  feeling,  and  a  Painter's  eye, 
Come  to  your  votary's  aid.     For  well  ye  know 
How  soon  my  infant  accents  lisped  the  rhyme, 
How  soon  my  hands  the  mimic  colors  spread, 
And  vainly  strove  to  snatch  a  double  wreath 
From  Fame's  unfading  laurel  :  fruitless  aim  : 
Yet  not  inglorious  ;  nor  perchance  devoid 
Of  friendly  use  to  this  fair  argument ; 
If  so,  with  lenient  smiles,  ye  deign  to  cheer, 
At  this  sad  hour,'  my  desolated  soul. 

For  deem' not  ye  that  I  resume  the  strain 
To  court  the  world's  applause  :  my  years  mature 
Have  learned  to  slight  the  toy.     No,  't  is  to  soothe 
That  agony  of  heart,  which  they  alone, 
Who  best  have  loved,  who  best  have  been  beloved, 
Can  feel,  or  pity  :  sympathy  severe  ! 
Which  she  too  felt,  when  on  her  pallid  lip 
The  last  farewell  hung  trembling,  and  bespoke 
A  wish  to  linger  here,  and  bless  the  arms 
She  left  for  heaven.  She  died,  and  heaven  is  hers  ! 
Be  mine,  the  pensive  solitary  balm 
That  recollection  yields.     Yes,  Angel  pure  ! 

'  Written  shortly  after  the  death  of  the  author's  wife. 


21 


While  Memory  holds  her  seat,  thy  imago  still 
Shall  reign,  shall  triumph  there  ;  and  when,  as  now. 
Imagination  forms  a  Nymph  divine 
To  lead  the  fluent  strain,  thy  modest  blush. 
Thy  mild  demeanor,  thy  unpractised  smile 
Shall  grace  that  Nymph,  and  sweot  Simplicity 
Be  dressed  (ah,  meek  Maria  !)  in  thy  charms. 


Begin  the  Song  !  and  ye  of  Albion's  sons 
Attend  ;  ye  freeborn,  yo  ingenuous  few, 
Who,  heirs  of  competence,  if  not  of  wealth, 
Preserve  that  vestal  purity  of  soul  [youths. 

Whence   genuine    taste   proceeds.     To   you,  blest 
I  sing  ;  whether  in  Academic  groves 
Studious  ye  rove  ;  or,  fraught  with  learning's  stores. 
Visit  the  Latian  plain,  fond  to  transplant 
Those  arts  which  (Jrooce  did,  with  her  Liberty, 
Kcsign  to  Rome. 

LANDSCAPE  GAEDEXINO  CNKNOWS  TO  THE  ROMAXS.  — 

Yet  know,  the  art  I  sing 
Ev'n  there  ye  shall  not  learn.     Rome  knew  it  not 
While  Rome  was  free.     Ah  !  hope  not  then  to  find 
In  slavish,  superstitious  Rome  the  fair 
Remains.     Meanwhile,  of  old  and  classic  aid 
Tho'  fruitless  bo  the  search,  your  eyes  entranced 
Shall  catch  those   glowing   scenes,  that   taught  a 
To  grace  his  canvas  with  Hesperian  hues  :     [Claude 
And  scenes  like  these,  on  Memory's  tablet  drawn. 
Bring  back  to  Britain  ;   there  give  local  fonn 
To  each  idea  ;  and,  if  Nature  lend 
Materials  fit  of  torrent,  rock,  and  shade. 
Produce  new  Tivolis.     But  learn  to  rein, 
0  Youth  •  whoso  skill  essays  the  arduous  task. 
That  skill  within  the  limit  she  allows. 

NATCKB  TO  BK  MENDED,  NOT  MADE. 

Great  Nature  scorns  control  :  she  will  not  bear 
One  beauty  foreign  to  the  spot  or  soil 
She  gives  thee  to  adorn  :  't  is  thine  alone 
To  mend,  not  change  her  features.     Does  her  hand 
Stretch  forth  a  level  lawn  ?     Ah,  hope  not  thou 
To  lift  tho  mountain  there.     Do  mountains  frown 
Around  ?     Ah,  wish  not  there  the  level  lawn. 
Yet  she  permits  thy  art,  discreetly  used, 
To  smooth  tho  rugged  and  to  swell  the  plain. 
But  dare  with  caution  ;  else  expect,  bold  man  ! 
The  injured  Genius  of  the  place  to  rise 
In  self-defence,  and,  like  some  giant  fiend 
That  frowns  in  Gothic  story,  swift  destroy. 
By  night,  tho  puny  labors  of  thy  day. 


162 


RURAL   POETRY.  —  MASON. 


NO  SPOT  ENTIRELT  ISCiPABLE  OF  BEiOTT.  —  int. 

What  then  must  he  attempt,  whom  niggard  Fate 
Has  fixed  in  such  an  inauspicious  spot 
As  bears  no  trace  of  beauty  ?  Must  he  sit 
Dull  and  inactive  in  the  desert  waste, 
If  Nature  there  no  happy  feature  wears 
To  wake  and  meet  his  skill  ?     Believe  the  Muse, 
She  does  not  know  that  inauspicious  spot 
Where  Beauty  is  thus  niggard  of  her  store  : 
Believe  the  Muse,  through  this  terrestrial  vast 
The  seeds  of  grace  are  sown,  profusely  sown, 
Ev'n  where  we  least  may  hope  :  the  desert  hills 
Will  hear  the  call  of  Art ;  the  valleys  dank 
Obey  her  just  behests,  and  smile  with  charms 
Congenial  to  the  soil,  and  all  its  own. 

THE  DESERT  IS   ONLY  WHERE  MAN   IS  NOT  ;     IN   BBADTIFTING 
IT,  LABOR  LEADS  ART.  —  THE   *  NEW  SETTLER.' 

For  tell  me,  where  's  the  desert  ?  there  alone 
Where  man  resides  not ;  or,  if  'chance  resides, 
He  is  not  there  the  man  his  Maker  formed. 
Industrious  man,  by  heaven's  first  law  ordained 
To  earn  his  food  by  labor.     In  the  waste 
Place  thou  that  man  with  his  primeval  arms, 
His  ploughshare,  and  his  spade ;  nor  shalt  thou  long 
Impatient  wait  a  change  ;  the  waste  shall  smile 
With  yellow  harvests  ;  what  was  barren  heath 
Shall  soon  be  verdant  mead.     Now  let  thy  Art 
Exert  its  powers,  and  give,  by  varying  lines. 
The  soil,  already  tamed,  its  finished  grace. 


Nor  less  obsequious  to  the  hand  of  toil. 
If  Fancy  guide  that  hand,  will  the  dank  vale 
Receive  improvement  meet  ;  but  Fancy  here 
Must  lead,  not  follow  Labor  ;  she  must  tell 
In  what  peculiar  place  the  soil  shall  rise,       [wear. 
Where  sink  ;  prescribe  what  form  each  sluice  shall 
And  how  direct  its  course  ;  whether  to  spread 
Broad  as  a  lake,  or,  as  a  river  pent 
By  fringed  banks,  weave  its  irriguous  way 
Through  lawn  and  shade  alternate  :  for  if  she 
Preside  not  o'er  the  task,  the  narrow  drains 
Will  run  in  tedious  parallel,  or  out 
Each  other  in  sharp  angles  ;  hence  implore 
Her  swift  assistance,  ere  the  ruthless  spade 
Too  deeply  wound  the  bosom  of  the  soil. 


fancy's  task  to  beautify  a  low  VALE  D1FFICI7LT,  YET  NC 

Yet,  in  this  lowly  site,  where  all  that  charms 
Within  itself  must  charm,  hard  is  the  task 
Imposed  on  Fancy.     Hence  with  idle  fear  ! 
Is  she  not  Fancy  ?  and  can  Fancy  fail 
In  sweet  delusions,  in  concealments  apt. 
And  wild  creative  power  ?     She  cannot  fail. 
And  yet,  Tull  oft,  when  her  creative  power. 
Her  apt  concealments,  her  delusions  sweet, 
Have  been  profusely  lavished  ;  when  her  groves 
Have  shot,  with  vegetative  vigor  strong, 
Ev'n  to  their  wished  maturity  ;  when  Jove 
Has  rolled  the  changeful  seasons  o'er  her  lawns, 


And  each  has  left  a  blessing  as  it  rolled  : 
Even  then,  perchance,  some  vain  fastidious  eye 
Shall  rove  unmindful  of  surrounding  charms 
And  ask  for  prospect.     Stranger  !  't  is  not  here. 
Go  seek  it  on  some  garish  turret's  height  ; 
Seek  it  on  Richmond's  or  on  Windsoi-'s  brow  ; 
There  gazing  on  the  gorgeous  vale  below, 
Applaud  alike,  with  fashioned  pomp  of  phrase, 
The  good  and  bad,  which,  in  profusion  there. 
That  gorgeous  vale  exhibits. 


vhile. 


Her, 


Even  in  the  dull,  unseen,  unseeing  dell, 
Thy  taste  contemns,  shall  Contemplation  imp 
Her  eagle  plumes  ;   the  Poet  here  shall  hold 
Sweet  converse  with  his  Muse  ;  the  curious  Sage, 
Who  comments  on  great  Nature's  ample  tome, 
Shall  find  that  volume  here.     For  here  are  caves. 
Where  rise  those  gurgling  rills,  that  sing  the  song 
Which  Contemplation  loves  ;  here  shadowy  glades. 
Where  through  the  tremulous  foliage  darts  the  ray 
That  gilds  the  Poet's  day-dream  ;  here  the  turf 
Teems  with  the  vegetating  race  ;  the  air 
Is  peopled  with  tho  insect  tribes,  that  float 
Upon  the  noontide  beam,  and  call  the  Sage 
To  number  and  to  name  them. 

CATION  TO   THE  MOSE   OF   PAINTING. 

Nor  if  here 
The  Painter  comes,  shall  his  enchanting  art 
Go  back  without  a  boon  :  for  Fancy  here. 
With  Nature's  living  colors,  forms  a  scene 
Which  Ruisdale  best  might  rival  :  crystal  lakes. 
O'er  which  the  giant  oak,  himself  a  grove. 
Flings  his  romantic  branches,  and  beholds 
His  reverend  image  in  th'  expanse  below. 
If  distant  hills  be  wanting,  yet  our  eye 
Forgets  the  want,  and  with  delighted  gaze 
Rests  on  the  lovely  foreground  ;  there  applauds 
The  art,  which,  varying  forms  and  blending  hues. 
Gives  that  harmonious  force  of  shade  and  light. 
Which  makes  the  landscape  perfect.     Art  like  this 
Is  only  art,  all  else  abortive  toil. 
Come,  then,  thou  Sister  Muse,  from  whom  the  mind 
Wins  for  her  airy  visions  color,  form. 
And  fixed  locality,  sweet  Painting,  come 
To  teach  the  docile  pupil  of  my  song 
How  much  his  practice  on  thy  aid  depends. 


Of  Nature's  various  scenes  the  Painter  culls 
That  for  his  fav'rite  theme,  where  the  fair  whole 
Is  broken  into  ample  parts,  and  bold  ; 
Where  to  the  eye  three  well-marked  distances 
Spread  their  peculiar  coloring.     Vivid  green, 
AVarm  brown,  and  black  opaque  the  foreground  bears 
Conspicuous  ;  sober  olive  coldly  marks 
Tho  second  distance  ;  thence  the  third  declines 


SUMMER  —  JUNE. 


163 


In  softer  blue,  or,  loss'niDg  still,  is  lost 
In  faintest  purple.     When  thy  tustc  is  called 
To  deck  a  scene  whore  Nature's  self  presents 
All  these  distinct  gradations,  then  rejoice 
As  does  the  painter,  and  like  him  apply 
Thy  colors  :  plant  thou  on  each  separate  part 
Its  proper  foliage. 


Chief,  for  there  thy  skill 
Has  its  chief  scope,  enrich  with  all  the  hues 
That  flowers,  that  shrubs,  that  trees  can  yield,  the 

Of  that  fair  path,  from  whence  our  sight  is  led 
Gradual  to  view  the  whole.    'Where'er  thou  wind'st 
That  path,  take  heed  between  the  scone  and  eye 
To  vary  and  to  mix  thy  chosen  greens. 
Here  for  a  while  with  cedar  or  with  larch,        [hide 
That  from  the  ground  spread  their  close  texture. 
The  view  entire. 


Then  o'er  some  lowly  tuft, 
Where  rose  and  woodbine  bloom,  permit  its  charms 
To  burst  upon  the  sight ;   now  through  a  copse 
Of  beech,  that  rear  their  smooth  and  stately  trunks, 
Admit  it  partially,  and  half  exclude, 
And  half  reveal  its  graces  :  in  this  path. 
How  long  soe'er  the  wanderer  roves,  each  step 
Shall  wake  fresh  beauties  ;  each  short  point  present 
A  different  picture,  new,  and  yet  the  same. 

CACnoS  AS  TO   FELLING  TREES.  —  POrsSIN.  —  CLAtTDE. 

Yet  some  there  are  who  scorn  this  cautious  rule, 
And  fell  each  tree  that  intercepts  the  scene. 
0  great  Poussin  !  0  Nature's  darling,  Claude  ! 
What  if  some  rash  and  sacrilegious  hand 
Tore  from  your  canvas  those  umbrageous  pines 
That  frown  in  front,  and  give  each  azure  hill 
The  charm  of  contrast !     Nature  suffers  here 
Like  outrage,  and  bewails  a  beauty  lost. 
Which  time  with  tardy  hand  shall  late  restore. 

TREES  n.L  PLACED.  —  FESCE.  —  SALVATOR  ROSA. 


Yet  here  the  spoiler  rests  not  ;  see  him  ri 
Warm  from  his  devastation,  to  improve, 
For  so  he  calls  it,  yonder  champian  wide. 
There  on  each  bolder  brow  in  shapes  acute 
His  fence  he  scatters  ;  there  the  Scottish  fir 
In  murky  file  lifts  his  inglorious  head, 
And  blots  the  fair  horizon.     So  should  art 
Improve  thy  pencil's  savage  dignity, 
Salvator  !  if  whore,  far  as  eye  can  pierce. 
Rock  piled  on  rock,  thy  Alpine  heights  reti} 
She  flung  her  random  foliage,  and  disturbed 
The  deep  repose  of  the  majestic  scene. 
This  deed  were  impious.     Ah,  forgive 
Thou  more  than  painter,  more  than  poet !  Ho 
Alone  thy  equal,  who  was  '  Fancy's  child.' 


POVEBTT  or  FORESTDSO  FOBBmDES.  —  A 


Does  then  the  song  forbid  the  planter's  hand 
To  clothe  the  distant  hills,  and  veil  with  woods 
Their  barren  summits  ?     No  ;  it  but  forbids 
All  poverty  of  clothing.     Rich  the  robe, 
And  ample  let  it  flow,  that  Nature  wears 
On  her  throned  eminence  :  where'er  she  takes 
Her  horizontal  march,  pursue  her  stop 
With  sweeping  train  of  forest ;  hill  to  hill 
Unite  with  prodigality  of  shade. 
There  plant  thy  elm,  thy  chestnut ;  nourish  there 
Those  sapling  oaks,  which,  at  Britannia's  call, 
May  heave  their  trunks  mature  into  the  main, 
And  float  the  bulwarks  of  her  liberty  : 
But  if  the  fir,  give  it  its  station  meet ; 
Place  it  an  outguard  to  th'  assailing  north, 
To  shield  the  infant  scions,  till  possessed 
Of  native  strength,  they  learn  alike  to  scorn 
The  blast  and  their  protectors.     Fostered  thus, 
The  cradled  hero  gains  from  female  care 
His  future  vigor  ;  but,  that  vigor  felt, 
He  springs  indignant  from  his  nurse's  arms, 
Nods  his  terrific  helmet,  shakes  his  spear. 
And  is  that  awful  thing  which  Heaven  ordained 
The  scourge  of  tyrants,  and  his  country's  pride. 

THE     PRINCIPLES    OF     LANDSCAPE.  —  BROAD     CONTRASTS.  — 
CARELESS   LINKS. 

If  yet  thy  art  be  dubious  how  to  treat 
Nature's  neglected  features,  turn  thy  eye 
To  those,  the  masters  of  correct  design, 
Who,  from  her  vast  variety,  have  culled 
The  loveliest,  boldest  parts,  and  new  arranged  ; 
Yet,  as  herself  approved,  herself  inspired. 
In  their  immortal  works  thou  ne'er  shalt  find 
Dull  uniformity,  contrivance  quaint. 
Or  labored  littleness  ;  but  contrasts  broad, 
And  careless  lines,  whoso  undulating  forms 
Play  through  the  varied  canvas  :  these  transplant 
Again  on  Nature  ;  take  thy  plastic  spade. 
It  is  thy  pencil  ;  take  thy  seeds,  thy  plants, 
They  are  thy  colors  ;  and  by  these  repay 
With  interest  every  charm  she  lent  thy  art. 

PERFECTION  FROM  UNION  OP  ART   AND  NATDRE.  —  RAPHAEL. 
—  COMBINE    SELECTED    EXCELLENCES. 

Nor,  while  I  thus  to  Imitjition's  realm 
Direct  thy  step,  deem  I  direct  thee  wrong  ; 
Nor  ask,  why  I  forget  great  Nature's  fount, 
And  bring  thee  not  the  bright  inspiring  cup 
From  her  original  spring.     Yet,  if  thou  ask'st. 
Thyself  shalt  give  the  answer.     Tell  me  why 
Did  Raphael  steal,  when  his  creative  hand 
Imaged  the  seraphim,  ideal  grace 
And  dignity  supernal  from  that  store 
Of  Attic  sculpture,  which  the  ruthless  Goth 
Spared  in  his  headlong  fury  !     Tell  me  this  : 
And  then  confess  that  beauty  best  is  taught 
By  those,  the  favored  few,  whom  Heaven  has  lent 


164 


RURAL    POETRY. 


The  power  to  seize,  select,  and  reunite 
Her  loveliest  features  ;  and  of  these  to  form 
One  archetype  complete  of  sovereign  grace. 
Here  Nature  sees  her  fairest  forms  more  fair  ; 
Owns  them  for  hers,  yet  owns  herself  excelled 
By  what  herself  produced.     Here  Art  and  she 
Embrace  ;  connubial  Juno  smiles  benign, 
And  from  the  warm  embrace  Perfection  springs. 


Rouse  then  each  latent  energy  of  soul, 
To  clasp  ideal  beauty.     Proteus-like, 
Think  not  the  changeful  nymph  will  long  elude 
Thy  chase,  or  with  reluctant  coyness  frown. 
Inspired  by  her,  thy  happy  art  shall  learn 
To  melt  in  f  uent  curves  whate'er  is  straight, 
Acute,  or  parallel.     For,  these  unchanged, 
Nature  and  she  disdain  the  formal  scene. 
'Tis  their  demand,  that  every  step  of  rule 
Be  severed  from  their  sight :  they  own  no  charm 
But  those  that  fair  Variety  creates. 
Who  ever  loves  to  undulate  and  sport 
In  many  a  winding  train.     With  equal  zeal 
She,  careless  goddess,  scorns  the  cube  and  cone, 
As  does  mechanic  order  hold  them  dear  : 
Hence  springs  their  enmity  ;  and  he  that  hopes 
To  reconcile  the  foes,  as  well  might  aim 
With  hawk  and  dove  to  draw  the  Cyprian  car. 

HOW  TO  TREAT  A   RIGID     ROW  OF    VENERABLE    OAKS.  — SID- 

Such  sentence  passed,  where  shall  the  Dryads  fly 
That  haunt  yon  ancient  vista  ?     Pity,  sure, 
Will  spare  the  long  cathedral  aisle  of  shade 
In  which  they  sojourn  ;   taste  were  sacrilege, 
If,  lifting  there  the  axe,  it  dared  invade 
Those  spreading  oaks  that  in  fraternal  files 
Have  paired  for  centuries,  and  heard  the  strains 
Of  Sidney's,  nay,  perchance,  of  Surry's  reed. 
Yet  must  they  fall,  unless  mechanic  skill, 
To  save  her  offspring,  rouse  at  our  command  ; 
And,  where  we  bid  her  move,  with  engine  huge, 
Each  ponderous  trunk,  the  ponderous  trunk  there 
A  work  of  difficulty  and  danger  tried,  [move. 

Nor  oft  successful  found.     But  if  it  fails, 
Thy  axe  must  do  its  office.     Cruel  task. 
Yet  needful.     Trust  me,  though  I  bid  thee  strike, 
Reluctantly  I  bid  thee  :  for  my  soul 
Holds  dear  an  ancient  oak,  nothing  more  dear  ; 
It  is  an  ancient  friend.     Stay  then  thine  hand  ; 
And  try  by  saplings  tall,  discreetly  placed 
Before,  between,  behind,  in  scattered  groups, 
To  break  the  obdurate  line.     So  may'st  thou  save 
A  chosen  few  ;  and  yet,  alas,  but  few 
Of  these,  the  old  protectors  of  the  plain. 
Yet  shall  these  few  give  to  thy  opening  lawn 
That  shadowy  pomp,  which  only  they  can  give  : 
For  parted  now,  in  patriarchal  pride. 
Each  tree  becomes  the  father  of  a  tribe  ; 
And,  o'er  the  stripling  foliage,  rising  round, 
Towers  with  parental  dignity  supreme. 


THE  WILD-WOOD   GLADES  OP  BRITAIN. 

And  yet,  my  Albion  !  in  that  fair  domain. 
Which  ocean  made  thy  dowry,  when  his  love 
Tempestuous  tore  thee  from  reluctant  Gaul, 
And  bade  thee  be  his  queen,  there  still  rema 
Full  many  a  lovely,  unfrequented  wild, 
Where  change  like  this  is  needless  ;  where  m 
Of  hedge-row,  avenue,  or  of  platform  square 
Demand  destruction.     In  thy  fair  domain, 
Yes,  my  loved  Albion  !  many  a  glade  is  foun 
The  haunt  of  wood-gods  only  ;  where,  if  Ar 
E'er  dared  to  tread,  'twas  with  unsandalled 
Printless,  as  if  the  place  were  holy  ground. 
And  there  are  scenes,  where,  though  she  v 
Led  by  the  worst  of  guides,  fell  Tyranny, 
And  ruthless  Superstition,  we  now  trace 
Her  footsteps  with  delight ;  and  pleased  rev< 
What  once  had  roused  our  hatred. 


[trod. 


But  to  Time, 
Not  her,  the  praise  is  due  :  his  gradual  touch 
Has  mouldered  into  beauty  many  a  tower, 
Which,  when  it  frowned  with  all  its  battlements, 
AVas  only  terrible  ;  and  many  a  fane 
Monastic,  which,  when  decked  with  all  its  spires, 
Served  but  to  feed  some  pampered  abbot's  pride. 
And  awe  the  unlettered  vulgar.     Generous  youth. 
Whoe'er  thou  art,  that  listen'st  to  my  lay. 
And  feel'st  thy  soul  assent  to  what  I  sing, 
Happy  art  thou  if  thou  canst  call  thine  own 
Such  scenes  as  these  :    where  Nature  and  where 

Time 
Have  worked  congenial  ;  where  a  scattered  host 
Of  antique  oaks  darken  thy  sidelong  hills  ; 
While,  rushing  through  their  branches,  rifted  cliffs 
Dart   their  white  heads,  and  glitter  through  the 
More  happy  still,  if  one  superior  rock  [gloom. 

Bear  on  its  brow  the  shivered  fragment  huge 
Of  some  old  Norman  fortress  ;  happier  far. 
Ah,  then  most  happy,  if  thy  vale  below 
Wash,  with  the  crystal  coolness  of  its  rills. 
Some  mouldering  abbey's  ivy-vested  wall. 


0  how  unlike  the  scene  my  fancy  forms. 
Did  Folly,  heretofore,  with  Wealth  conspire 
To  plan  that  formal,  dull,  disjointed  scene, 
Which  once  was  called  a  garden  !     Britain  still 
Bears  on  her  breast  full  many  a  hideous  wound 
Given  by  the  cruel  pair,  when,  borrowing  aid 
From  geometric  skill,  they  vainly  strove 
By  line,  by  plummet,  and  unfeeling  shears,  • 
To  form  with  verdure  what  the  builder  formed 
With  stone.     Egregious  madness  ;   yet  pursued 
With  pains  unwearied,  with  expense  unsummed, 
And  science  doting.     Hence  the  sidelong  walls 
Of  shaven  yew  ;   the  holly's  prickly  arms 
Trimmed  into  high  arcades  ;  the  tensile  box 


SUMMER  — JUNE. 


Wove,  in  mosaic  mode,  of  many  a  curl, 
Around  the  figured  carpet  of  the  lawn. 
Hence  too  deformities  of  harder  cure  : 
The  terras  mound  uplifted  ;  the  long  lino 
Deep  delved  of  flat  canal  ;  and  all  that  toil, 
Misled  by  tasteless  Fashion,  could  achieve 
To  mar  fair  Nature's  lineaments  divine. 

REFORM  IS  LANPSCAPB  GAIU3KSIN0  DDE  TO   DACON,  ' 
PKOPHBT  OP  A  TRCK  TASTE. 

Long  was  the  night  of  error,  nor  dispelled 
By  him  that  rose  at  learning's  earliest  dawn, 
Prophet  of  unborn  Science.     On  thy  realm, 
Philosophy  !  his  sovereign  lustre  spread. 
Yet  did  he  deign  to  light  with  casual  glance 
Tho  wilds  of  taste.     Yes,  sagcst  Verulam, 
'T  was  thine  to  banish  from  the  royal  grove 
Each  childish  vanity  of  crisped  knot 
And  sculptured  foliage  ;  to  the  lawn  restore 
Its  ample  space,  and  bid  it  feast  the  sight 
With  verdure  pure,  unbroken,  unabridged  : 
For  verdure  soothes  the  eye,  as  roseate  sweets 
Tho  smell,  or  music's  melting  strains  the  ear. 


So  taught  the  sago,  taught  a  degenerate  reign 
What  in  Eliza's  golden  day  was  ta^te. 
Not  but  the  mode  of  that  romantic  ago, 
The  age  of  tourneys,  triumphs,  and  quaint 
Olared  with  fantastic  pageantry,  which  dimmed 
Tho  sober  eye  of  truth,  and  dazzled  even 
The  sage  himself  ;  witness  his  high-arched  hedge, 
In  pillared  state  by  carpentry  upborne, 
With  colored  mirrors  decked  and  prisoned  birds. 
But,  when  our  step  has  paced  his  proud  parterres. 
And  reached  the  heath,  then  Nature  glads  our  eye 
Sporting  in  all  her  lovely  carelessness. 
There  smiles  in  varied  tufts  the  velvet  rose, 
There  flaunts   the   gadding   woodbine,    swells   the 
In  gentle  hillocks,  and  around  its  sides        [ground 
Through  blossomed  shades  the  secret  pathway  steals. 

Thus,  with  a  poet's  power,  the  sage's  pen 
Portrayed  that  nicer  negligence  of  scene, 
Which  Taste  approves.     While  he,  delicious  swain. 
Who  tuned  his  oaten  pipe  by  MuUa's  stream. 
Accordant  touched  the  stops  in  Dorian  mood  ; 
What  time  he  'gan  to  paint  tho  fairy  vale, 
Where  stands  the  Fane  of  Venus.     Well  I  ween 
That  then,  if  ever,  Colin,  thy  fond  hand 
Did  steep  its  pencil  in  the  well-fount  clear 
Of  true  simplicity  ;  and  '  called  in  Art 
Only  to  secimd  Nature,  and  supply 
All  that  the  nymph  forgot,  or  left  forlorn.' ' 


Yet  what  availed  the  song?  or  what  availed 
Even  thine,  thou  chief  of  bards,  whose  mighty  mind. 
With  inward  light  irradiate,  mirror-like 

1  See  Spenser's  Faery  Queene,  book  4,  canto  10. 


Received,  and  to  mankind  with  ray  reflex 
The  sovereign  Planter's  primal  work  displayed  7 
That  work,  '  where  not  nice  Art  in  curious  knots. 
But  Nature  boon,  poured  forth  on  hill  and  dalo 
Flowers  worthy  of  Paradise  ;  while  all  around 
Umbrageous  grots,  and  caves  of  cool  recess, 
And  murmuring  waters  down  the  slope  dispersed, 
Or  held,  by  fringdd  banks,  in  crystal  lakes, 


Hi  high 


Ofl'.-pnii^  iil  .u.  .111 1  .li.iuii.,  liiu  banner  seized. 
And  with  adulterate  pageantry  defiled. 
Yet  vainly,  Milton,  did  thy  voice  proclaim 
These  her  primeval  honors.     Still  she  lay 
Defaced,  deflowered,  full  many  a  ruthless  year  : 
Alike,  when  Charles,  the  abject  tool  of  Franco, 
Came  back  to  smilo  his  subjects  into  slaves  ; 
Or  Belgic  William,  with  his  warrior  frown. 
Coldly  declared  them  free  ;  in  fetters  still 
The  goddess  pined,  by  both  alike  oppressed. 


Go  to  the  proof!  behold  what  Temple  called 
A  perfect  garden.     There  thou  shalt  not  find 
One  blade  of  verdure,  but  with  aching  feet 
From  terras  down  to  terras  shalt  descend. 
Step  following  step,  by  tedious  flight  of  stairs  : 
On  leaden  platforms  now  the  noon-day  sun 
Shall  scorch  thee  ;  now  the  dank  arcades  of  stoni 
Shall  chill  thy  fervor  ;  happy,  if  at  length 
Thou  reach  the  orchard,  where  the  sparing  turf 
Through  equal  lines,  all  centring  in  a  point, 
Yields  thee  a  softer  tread.     And  yet  full  oft 
O'er  Temple's  studious  hour  did  Truth  preside, 
Sprinkling  her  lustre  o'er  his  classic  page  : 
There  hear  his  candor  own  in  fashion's  spite, 
In  spite  of  courtly  dulness,  hear  it  own 
*  There  is  a  grace  in  wild  variety 
Surpassing  rule  and  order.'    Temple,'  yes. 
There  is  a  grace  ;  and  let  eternal  wreaths 
Adorn  their  brows  who  fixed  its  empire  here. 


The  muse  shall  hail  the  champions  that  herself 
Led  to  the  fair  achievement.     Addison, 
Thou  polished  sage,  or  shall  I  call  thee  bard, 
I  see  thee  come  :  around  thy  temples  play 
The  lambent  flames  of  humor,  brightening  mild 
Thy  judgment  into  smiles  ;  gracious  thou  com'st 
With  Satire  at  thy  side,  who  checks  her  frown. 
But  not  her  secret  sting.     With  bolder  rage 
Pope  next  advances  ;  his  indignant  arm 
Waves  tho  poetic  brand  o'er  Timon's  shades, 
And  lights  them  to  destrucion  ;  tho  fierce  blazo 


166 


RURAL    POETRY. 


Sweeps  thro'  each  kindred  vista  ;  groves  to  groves ' 
Nod  their  fraternal  farewell,  and  expire. 
And  now,  elate  with  fair-earned  victory. 
The  bard  retires,  and  on  the  bank  of  Thames 
Erects  his  6ag  of  triumph  ;  wild  it  waves 
In  verdant  splendor,  and  beholds,  and  hails 
The  king  of  rivers,  as  he  rolls  along. 
Kent  is  his  bold  associate,  Kent  who  felt 
The  pencil's  power  :  but,  fired  with  higher  forms 
Of  beauty  than  that  pencil  knew  to  paint, 
Worked  with  the  living  hues  that  Nature  lent, 
And  realized  his  landscapes.     Generous  he. 
Who  gave  to  painting,  what  the  wayward  nymph 
Refused  her  votary,  those  elysian  scenes, 
Which  would  she  emulate,  her  nicest  hand 
Must  all  its  force  of  light  and  shade  employ. 
On  thee,  too,  Southcote,  shall  the  muse  bestow 
No  vulgar  praise  :  for  thou  to  humblest  things 
Couldst  give  ennobling  beauties  ;  decked  by  thee. 
The  suuple  farm  eclipsed  the  garden's  pride,^  — 
Even  as  the  virgin  blush  of  innocence. 
The  harlotry  of  Art.     Nor,  Shenstone,  thou 
Shalt  pass  without  thy  meed,  thou  son  of  peace  ! 
Who  knew'st,  perchance,  to  harmonize  thy  shades 
Still  softer  than  thy  song  ;  yet  was  that  song 
Nor  rude,  nor  inharmonious,  when  attuned 
To  pastoral  plaint,  or  tale  of  slighted  love. 
Hun  too,  the  living  leader  of  thy  powers. 
Great  Nature  !  him  the  muse  shall  hail  in  notes 
Which  antedate  the  praise  true  genius  claims 
From  just  posterity  :  bards  yet  unborn 
Shall  pay  to  Brown  that  tribute,  fitliest  paid 
In  strains  the  beauty  of  his  scenes  inspire. 


EXHORTATION  ' 


,  CULTIVATION  ( 


Meanwhile,  ye  youths  !  whose  sympathetic  souls 
Would  taste  those  genuine  charms,  which  faintly 
In  my  descriptive  song,  0  visit  oft  [smile 

The  finished  scenes,  that  boast  the  forming  hand 
Of  these  creative  Genii !  feel  ye  there 
What  Reynolds  felt,  when  first  the  Vatican 
Unbarred  her  gates,  and  to  his  raptured  eye 
Gave  all  the  godlike  energy  that  flowed 
From  Michael's  pencil  ;  feel  what  Garrick  felt. 
When  first   he  breathed   the   soul  of  Shakspeare's 
page. 

A  PICTUBE  OF   ENGLAND   IMPROVED   BY  TASTE. 

So  shall  your  Art,  if  called  to  grace  a  scene 
Yet  unadorned,  with  taste  instinctive  give 
Each  grace  appropriate  ;  to  your  active  eye 
Shall  dart  that  glance  prophetic,  which  awakes 
The  slumbering  wood-nymphs  ;  gladly  shall  they  rise 
Oread,  and  Dryad,  from  their  verdurous  beds, 
And  fling  their  foliage,  and  arrange  their  stems, 
As  you  and  beauty  bid  :   the  Naiad  train, 
Alike  obsequious,  from  a  thousand  urns 
Pour  their  crystalline  tide  ;  while,  hand  in  hand, 
Vertumnus  and  Pomona  bring  their  stores, 

1  See  Pope's  Epistle  on  False  Taste,  to  the  Earl  of  Bur- 
lington. 

2  Mr.  Southcote  first  introduced  the  *  Ferme  orne.' 


Fruitage,  and  flowers  of  every  blush,  and  scent, 
Each  varied  season  yields  ;  to  you  they  bring 
The  fragrant  tribute  ;  ye,  with  generous  hand, 
Difi'use  the  blessing  \vide,  till  Albion  smile 
One  ample  theatre  of  sylvan  grace. 

BOOK    II. 

THE  ART  OF  LANDSCAPE  GARDENING.  —  NATCRE  TO  BE 


Hail  to  the  art  that  teaches  Wealth  and  Pride 
How  to  possess  their  wish,  the  world's  applause, 
Unmixt  with  blame  !  that  bids  Magnificence 
Abate  its  meteor  glare,  and  learn  to  shine 
Benevolently  mild  ;  like  her,  the  Queen 
Of  Night,  who,  sailing  through  autumnal  skies. 
Gives  to  the  bearded  product  of  the  plain 
Her  ripening  lustre,  lingering  as  she  rolls. 
And  glancing  cool  the  salutary  ray 
Which  fills  the  fields  with  plenty.'     Hail  that  art, 
Ye  swains  !  for,  hark  !  with  lowings  glad,  your  herds 
Proclaim  its  influence,  wandering  o'er  the  lawns 
Restored  to  them  and  Nature  ;  now  no  more 
Shall  fortune's  minion  rob  them  of  their  right, 
Or  round  his  dull  domain  with  lofty  wall 
Oppose  their  jocund  presence.     Gothic  Pomp 
Frowns  and  retires,  his  proud  behests  are  scorned  ; 
Now  Taste  inspired  by  Truth  exalts  her  voice, 
And  she  is  heard.     '  0,  let  not  man  misdeem  ; 
Waste  is  not  grandeur,  Fashion  ill  supplies 
My  sacred  place,  and  Beauty  scorns  to  dwell 
Where  Use  is  exiled.'     At  the  awful  sound 
The  terrace  sinks  spontaneous  ;  on  the  green, 
Broidered  with  crisped  knots,  the  tensile  yews 
Wither  and  fall  ;   the  fountain  dares  no  more 
To  fling  its  wasted  crystal  through  the  sky, 
But  pours  salubrious  o'er  the  parched  lawn 
Rills  of  fertility.     0,  best  of  arts. 
That  works  this  happy  change  !  true  alchemy. 
Beyond  the  Rosicrusian  boast,  that  turns 
Deformity  to  grace,  expense  to  gain, 
And  pleased  restores  to  earth's  maternal  lap 
The  long-lost  fruits  of  Amalthea's  horn. 


When  such  the  theme,  the  poet  smiles  secure 
Of  candid  audience,  and  with  touch  assured 
Resumes  his  reed  Ascrajan  ;2  eager  he 
To  ply  its  warbling  stops  of  various  note 
In  Nature's  cause,  that  Albion's  listening  youths. 
Informed  erewhile  to  scorn  the  long-drawn  lines 
Of  straight  formality,  alike  may  scorn 
Those  quick,  acute,  perplexed,  and  tangled  paths. 
That,  like  the  snake  crushed  by  the  sharpened  spade. 
Writhe  in  convulsive  torture,  and  full  oft. 
Through  many  a  dank  and  unsunned  labyrinth, 

.   I  An  allusion  to  the  supposed  favorable  effects  of  the 
harvest-moon. 

2  nesiod,  the  earliest  poet  of  rurali  ''      '     ''^^- 

Qreek  village  of  Ascra  ;  hence  '  Ascra 


'  is  put  for ' 


SUMMER  —  JUNE. 


167 


Mislead  our  step  ;  till  giddy,  spent,  and  foiled, 
We  reach  the  point  where  first  our  race  began. 

IBB  TRCB   USB   OF   BBAITT  ;  XITCBE'S    CSCiL  CTKVl!  i  8KS 

IS   Tire  oi-rrRROw;   thi  tkaji-bct  i  ti™  hilk-maids 

FITU  ;  TUB  CODRSB  or  TUB  aWH  ;  TUB  STHBAU. 

These  Fancy  priied  erroneous,  what  time  Taste, 
An  infant  yet,  first  joined  her  to  destroy 
The  measured  platform  ;  into  false  extremes 
What  marvel  if  they  strayed,  as  yet  unskilled 
To  mark  the  form  of  that  peculiar  curve, 
Alike  averse  to  crooked  and  to  straight. 
Where  sweet  Simplicity  resides  ;  which  Grace 
And  Beauty  call  their  own  ;  whose  lambent  flow 
Charms  us  at  once  with  symmetry  and  ease. 
'Tis  Nature's  curve,  instinctively  she  bills 
Ilcr  tribes  of  being  trace  it.     Down  the  slope 
Of  yon  wide  field,  see,  with  its  gradual  sweep, 
The  ploughing  steers  their  fallow  ridges  swell  ; 
The  peasant,  driving  through  each  shadowy  lane 
His  team,  that  bends  beneath  the  incumbent  weight 
Oflaughing  Ceres,  marks  it  with  his  wheel  ; 
At  night  and  morn,  the  milk-maid's  careless  step 
Has,  through  yon  pasture  green,  from  stile  to  stile. 
Impressed  a  kindred  curve  ;  the  scudding  hare 
Draws  to  her  dew-sprent  scat,  o'er  thymy  heaths, 
A  path  as  gently  waving  ;  mark  them  well  ; 
Compare,  —  pronounce,  that,  varying  but  in  size. 
Their  forms  are  kindred  all  ;  go  then,  convinced 
That  Art's  unerring  rule  is  only  drawn 
From  Nature's  sacred  source  ;  a  rule  that  guides 
Her  every  toil  ;  or,  if  she  shape  the  path. 
Or  scoop  the  lawn,  or  gradual  lift  the  hill. 
For  not  alone  to  that  embellished  walk, 
Which  leads  to  every  beauty  of  the  scene. 
It  yields  a  grace,  but  spreads  its  influence  wide, 
Prescribes  each  form  of  thicket,  copse,  or  wood, 
Confines  the  rivulet,  and  spreads  the  lake. 

COSTRAST  ims    CCBVB  WITH    OTHER    LISBS  ;    AVOID  MOSOT- 
ONT  -,   STCOY    VARIETY   AXD    FREEDOM. 

Yet  shall  this  graceful  line  forget  to  please, 
If  bordered  close  by  sidelong  parallels, 
Nor  duly  mixt  with  those  opposing  curves 
That  give  the  charm  of  contrast.     Vainly  Taste 
Draws  through  the  grove  her  path  in  easiest  bend, 
If,  on  the  margin  of  its  woody  sides. 
The  measured  greensward  waves  in  kindred  flow  : 
Oft  let  the  turf  recede,  and  oft  approach. 
With  varied  breadth,  now  sink  into  the  shade. 
Now  to  the  sun  its  verdant  bosom  bare. 
As  vainly  wilt  thou  lift  the  gradual  hill 
To  meet  thy  right-hand  view,  if  to  the  left 
An  equal  bill  ascends  :  in  this,  and  all. 
Be  various,  wild,  and  free  as  Nature's  self. 

HATDSk'S     expedients     to    give  variety.  — how   ear    ARl 
CAS   DO  TUB  SAME. 

For  in  her  wildness  is  there  oft  an  art. 
Or  seeming  art,  which,  by  position  apt, 
Arranges  shapes  unequal,  so  to  save 
That  correspondent  poise,  which  unpreserved 
Would  mock  our  gaze  with  airy  vacancy. 


Yet  fair  Variety  with  all  her  poweri 

Assists  the  balance  ;  'gainst  the  barren  crag 

She  lifts  the  pastured  slope  ;  to  distant  hills 

Opposes  neighboring  shades  ;  and,  central  oft. 

Relieves  the  flatness  of  the  lawn,  or  lake. 

With  studded  tuft,  or  island.     So  to  poise 

Her  objects,  mimic  Art  may  oft  attain  : 

She  rules  the  foreground  ;  she  can  swell  or  sink 

Itjs  surface  ;  here  her  leafy  screen  oppose, 

And  there  withdraw  ;  here  part  the  varying  greens, 

And  there  in  one  promiscuous  gloom  combine. 

As  best  befits  tue  genius  of  the  scene. 


Him,  then,  that  sovereign  Genius,  monarch  sole, 
Who,  from  creation's  primal  day,  derives 
His  right  divine  to  this  his  rural  throne. 
Approach  with  meet  obeisance  ;  at  his  feet 
Let  our  awed  art  fall  prostrate.     They  of  Ind, 
The  Tartar  tyrants,  Tamerlane's  proud  race. 
Or  they  in  Persia  throned,  who  shake  the  rod 
Of  power  o'er  myriads  of  enervate  slaves. 
Expect  not  humbler  homage  to  their  pride 
Than  dcies  this  sylvan  despot.     Yet  to  those 
Who  do  him  loyal  service,  who  revere 
His  dignity,  nor  aim,  with  rebel  arms. 
At  lawless  usurpation,  is  he  found 
Patient  and  placable,  receives  well  pleased 
Their  tributary  treasures,  nor  disdains 
To  blend  them  with  his  own  internal  store. 


Stands  he  in  blank  and  desolated  state. 
Where  yawning  crags  disjointed,  sharp,  uncouth, 
Involve  him  with  pale  horror?     In  the  clefts. 
Thy  welcome  spade  shall  heap  that  fostering  mould 
Whence  sapling  oaks  may  spring  ;  whence  cluster- 
ing crowds 
Of  early  underwood  shall  veil  their  sides. 
And  teach  their  rugged  heads  above  the  shade 
To  tower  in  shapes  romantic  :  nor  around 
Their  flinty  roots  shall  ivy  spare  to  hang 
Its  gadding  tendrils,  nor  the  moss-grown  turf. 
With  wild  thyme  sprinkled,  there  refuse  to  spread 
Its  verdure.     Awful  still,  yet  not  austere. 
The  Genius  stands  ;  bold  is  his  port,  and  wild. 
But  not  forlorn,  nor  savage. 

BOW  TO  TREAT  A  DBEART  LEVEL  ;  OR  A  LrXVRIAST  TASGLED 
COPSE,   OR   BA.SK  SWAMPY   WILD. 

On  some  plain 
Of  tedious  length,  say,  are  his  flat  limbs  laid  ? 
Thy  hand  shall  lift  him  from  the  dreary  couch, 
Pillowing  his  head  with  swelling  hillocks  green, 
\Vhile,  all  around,  a  forest-curtain  spreads 
Its  waving  folds,  and  blesses  his  repose. 
What,  if  perchance  in  some  prolific  soil. 
Where  vegetation  strenuous,  uncontrolled. 
Has  pushed  her  powers  luxuriant,  he  now  pines 
For  air  and  freedom  ?    Soon  thy  sturdy  axe. 


168 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  MASON. 


Amid  its  intertwisted  foliage  driven, 

Shall  open  all  his  glades,  and  ingress  give 

To  the  bright  darts  of  day  ;   his  prisoned  rills, 

That  darkling  crept  amid  the  rustling  brakes, 

Shall  glitter  as  they  glide,  and  his  dank  caves, 

Free  to  salubrious  zephyrs,  cease  to  weep. 

Meanwhile  his  shadowy  pomp  he  still  retains, 

His  Dryads  still  attend  him  ;  they  alone 

Of  race  plebeian  banished,  who  to  crowd. 

Not  grace  his  state,  their  boughs  obtrusive  flung. 


But  chief  consult  him  ere  thou  dar'st  decide 
The  appropriate  bounds  of  Pleasure,  and  of  Use  ; 
For  Pleasure,  lawless  robber,  oft  invades 
Her  neighbor's  right,  and  turns  to  idle  waste 
Her  treasures  :  curb  her  then  in  scanty  bounds. 
Whene'er  the  scene  permits  that  just  restraint. 
The  curb  restrains  not  Beauty  ;  sovereign  she 
Still  triumphs,  still  unites  each  subject  realm, 
And  blesses  both  impartial.     Why  then  fear 
Lest,  if  thy  fence  contract  the  shaven  lawn, 
It  does  her  wroug  ?     She  points  a  thousand  ways. 
And  each  her  own,  to  cure  the  needful  ill. 
Where'er  it  winds,  and  freely  must  it  wind, 
She  bids,  at  every  bend,  thick-blossomed  tufts 
Crowd  their  inwoven  tendrils  :  is  there  still 
A  void  ?     Lo,  Lebanon  her  cedar  lends  ! 
Lo,  all  the  stately  progeny  of  pines 
Come,  with  their  floating  foliage  richly  decked. 
To  fill  that  void  !  meanwhile  across  the  mead 
The  wandering  flocks  that  browse  between  the  shades 
Seem  oft  to  pass  their  bounds  ;  the  dubious  eye 
Decides  not  if  they  crop  the  mead  or  lawn. 

Browse  then  your  fill,  fond  foresters  !  to  you 
Shall  sturdy  Labor  quit  his  morning  task 
Well  pleased  ;  nor  longer  o'er  his  useless  plots 
Draw  through  the  dew  the  splendor  of  his  scythe. 
He,  leaning  on  that  scythe,  with  carols  gay 
Salutes  his  fleecy  substitutes,  that  rush 
In  bleating  chase  to  their  delicious  task, 
And,  spreading  o'er  the  plain,  with  eager  teeth 
Devour  it  into  verdure.     Browse  your  fill, 
Fond  foresters  !  the  soil  that  you  enrich 
Shall  still  supply  your  morn  and  evening  meal 
With  choicest  delicates  ;  whether  you  choose 
The  vernal  blades,  that  rise  with  seeded  stem 
Of  hue  purpureal  ;  or  the  clover  white. 
That  in  a  spiked  ball  collects  its  sweets  ; 
Or  trembling  fescue  :  every  favorite  herb 
Shall  court  your  taste,  ye  harmless  epicures  ! 


Meanwhile  permit  that  with  unheeded  step 
I  pass  beside  you,  nor  let  idle  fear 
Spoil  your  repast,  for  know  the  lively  scene. 
That  you  still  more  enliven,  to  my  soul 


Darts  inspiration,  and  impels  the  song 
To  roll  in  bolder  descant  ;  while,  within, 
A  gleam  of  happiness  primeval  seems 
To  snatch  me  back  to  joys  my  nature  claimed, 
Ere  vice  defiled,  ere  slavery  sunk  the  world, 
And  all  was  faith  and  freedom  ;  then  was  man 
Creation's  king,  yet  friend  ;  and  all  that  browse. 
Or  skim,  or  dive,  the  plain,  the  air,  the  flood, 
Paid  him  their  liberal  homage  ;  paid  unawcd, 
In  love  accepted,  sympathetic  love 
That  felt  for  all,  and  blest  them  with  its  smiles. 
Then,  nor  the  curling  horn  had  learned  to  sound 
The  savage  song  of  chase  ;  the  barbed  shaft 
Had  then  no  poisoned  point ;  nor  thou,  fell  tube  ! 
Whose  iron  entrails  hide  the  sulphurous  blast, 
Satanic  engine,  knew'st  the  ruthless  power 
Of  thundering  death  around  thee.     Then  alike 
Were  ye  innocuous  through  your  every  tribe. 
Or  brute,  or  reptile  ;  nor  by  rage  or  guile 
Had  given  to  injured  man  his  only  plea 
(And  that  the  tyrant's  plea)  to  work  your  harm. 
Instinct,  alas,  like  wayward  Reason,  now 
Veers  from  its  pole.     There  was  a  golden  time 
When  each  created  being  kept  its  sphere 
Appointed,  nor  infringed  its  neighbor's  right. 


The  flocks,  to  whom  the  grassy  lawn  was  given. 
Fed  on  its  blades  contented  ;  now  they  crush 
Each  scion's  tender  shoots,  and,  at  its  birth. 
Destroy,  what,  saved  from  their  remorseless  tooth, 
Had  been  the  tree  of  Jove.     E'en  while  I  sing, 
Yon  wanton  lamb  has  crept  the  woodbine's  pride. 
That  bent  beneath  a  full-blown  load  of  sweets. 
And  filled  the  air  with  perfume  ;  see  it  falls  ; 
The  busy  bees,  with  many  a  murmur  sad. 
Hang  o'er  their  honeyed  loss.     Why  is  it  thus? 
Ah,  why  must  Art  defend  the  friendly  shades 
She  reared  to  shield  you  from  the  noontide  beam  ? 
Traitors,  forbear  to  wound  them  !  say,  ye  fools  ! 
Does  your  rich  herbage  fail  ?  do  acrid  leaves 
Afford  you  daintier  food  ?     I  plead  in  vain  ; 
For  now  the  father  of  the  fleecy  troop 
Begins  his  devastation,  and  his  ewes 
Crowd  to  the  spoil,  with  imitative  zeal. 


Since  then,  constrained,  we  must  expel  the  flock 
From  where  our  saplings  rise,  our  flowerets  bloom, 
The  song  shall  teach,  in  clear  preceptive  notes. 
How  best  to  frame  the  fence,  and  best  to  hide 
All  its  foreseen  defects  ;  defective  still, 
Though  hid  with  happiest  art.     Ingrateful  sure, 
When  such  the  theme,  becomes  the  poet's  task  : 
Yet  must  he  try,  by  modulation  meet 
Of  varied  cadence,  and  selected  phrase. 
Exact  yet  free,  without  inflation  bold, 
To  dignify  that  theme,  —  must  try  to  form 
Such  magic  sympathy  of  sense  with  sound 
As  pictures  all  it  sings  ;  while  Grace  awakes 


SUMMER  —  JUNE. 


At  each  blest  touch,  and,  on  the  loftiest  things, 
Scatters  her  rainbow  hues.  — 


Is  that,  which,  sinking  from 


The  first  and  best 
oye^  divides, 


Yet! 


}  divide  the  i 


And  parts  it  from  the  pasture  ;   for  if  there 
Sheep  feed,  or  dappled  deer,  their  wandering  teeth 
Will,  smoothly  as  the  scythe,  the  herbage  shave. 
And  leave  a  kindred  verdure.     This  to  keep 
Heed  that  thy  laborer  scoop  the  trench  with  care  ; 
For  some  there  are  who  give  their  spade  repose. 
When  broail  enough  the  perpendicular  sides 
Divide,  and  deep  descend  :  to  form  pcrehance 
Some  needful  drain,  such  labor  may  suffice. 
Yet  not  for  beauty  :  here  thy  range  of  wall 
Must  lift  its  height  erect,  and  o'er  its  head 
A  verdant  veil  of  swelling  turf  expand  ; 
While  smoothly  from  its  base,  with  gradual  ease, 
The  pasture  meetjs  its  level,  at  that  point 
Which  best  deludes  our  eye,  and  best  conceals 
Thy  lawn's  brief  limit.     Down  so  smooth  a  slope 
The  fleecy  foragers  will  gladly  browse  ; 
The  velvet  herbage  free  from  weeds  obscene 
Shall  spread  its  equal  carpet,  and  the  trench 
Be  pasture  to  its  base.     Thus  form  tliy  fence 
Of  stone,  for  stone  alone,  and  piled  on  high. 
Best  curbs  the  nimble  deer,  that  love  to  range 
Unlimited  ;  but  where  tame  heifers  feed. 
Or  innocent  sheep,  an  humbler  mound  will  serve, 
Unlined  with  stone,  and  but  a  green-sward  trench. 
Here  midway  down,  upon  the  nearer  bank 
Plant  thy  thick  row  of  thorns,  and,  to  defend 
Their  infant  shoots,  beneath,  on  oaken  stakes. 
Extend  a  rail  of  elm,  securely  armed 
With  spiculated  palings,  in  such  sort 
As,  round  some  citadel,  the  engineer 
Directs  his  sharp  stoccade.     But  when  the  shoots 
Condense,  and  interweave  their  prickly  boughs 
Impenetrable,  then  withdraw  their  guard. 
They  've  done  their  ofRce  ;  scorn  thou  to  retain, 
What  frowns  like  military  art,  in  scenes     [stroyed, 
Where  Peace  should   smile  perpetual.     These  de- 
Make  it  thy  vernal  care,  when  April  calls 
New  shoots  to  birth,  to  trim  the  hedge  aslant, 
And  mould  it  to  the  roundness  of  the  mound. 
Itself  a  shelving  hill  ;  nor  need  we  here 
The  rule  or  line  precise,  a  casual  glance 
Suffices  to  direct  the  careless  shears. 

TBK  WIRE   FESCE.  — THE    HILI-SIDE    PATH.  — DEER   CIIECKED 


Yet  learn,  that  each  variety  of  ground 
Claims  its  peculiar  barrier.     When  the  foss 
Can  steal  transverse  before  the  central  eye, 
'Tis  duly  drawn  ;  but,  up  yon  neighboring  hill 
That  fronts  the  lawn  direct,  if  labor  delve 
The  yawning  chasm,  'twill  meet,  not  cross  our  vie 
No  foliage  can  conceal,  no  curve  correct. 
The  deep  deformity.     And  yet  thou  me,an'st 


Up  yonder  hill  to  wind  thy  fragrant  way. 

And  wisely  dost  thou  mean  ;   for  its  broad  eye 

Catches  the  sudden  clianus  of  laughing  rales. 

Rude  rocks,  and  headlong  streams,  and  antique  oaks, 

Lost  in  a  wild  horizon  ;  yet  the  path 

That  leads  to  all  these  charms  expects  defence  : 

Hero  then  suspend  the  sportsman's  hempen  toils. 

And  stretch  their  meshes  on  the  light  support 

Of  hazel  planta,  or  draw  thy  lines  of  wire 

In  five-fold  parallel  ;  no  danger  then 

That  sheep  invade  thy  foliage.     To  thy  herds 

And  pastured  steeds  an  opener  fence  oppose, 

Formed  by  a  triple  row  of  cordage  strong. 

Tight  drawn  the  stakes  between.     The  simple  deer 

Is  curbed  by  mimic  snares  ;  the  slenderest  twine  • 

(If  sages  err  not)  that  the  beldame  spins 

When  by  her  wintry  lamp  she  plies  her  wheel, 

Arrests  his  courage  ;  his  impetuous  hoof. 

Broad  chest,  and  branching  antlers,  naught  avail ; 

In  fearful  gaze  he  stands  ;   the  nerves  that  bore 

His  bounding  pride  o'er  lofty  mounds  of  stone, 

A  single  thread  defies.     Such  force  has  fear. 

When  visionary  fancy  wakes  the  fiend. 

In  brute  or  man,  most  powerful  when  most  vain. 


Still 


TDBiLDOM.  —ELI 

must  the  swain. 


spreads  these  corded 


Expect  their  swift  decay.     The  noontide  beams 
Relax,  the  nightly  dews  contract  the  twist. 
Oft,  too,  the  coward  hare,  then  only  bold 
When  mischief  prompts,  or  wintry  famine  pines. 
Will  quit  her  rush-grown  form,  and  steal,  with  ear 
Up-pricked,  to  gnaw  the  toils  ;  and  oft  the  ram 
And  jutting  steer  drive  their  entangling  horns 
Through  the  frail  meshes,  and,  by  many  a  chasm, 
Proclaim  their  hate  of  thraldom.     Nothing  brooks 
Confinement,  save  degenerate  man  alone. 
Who  deems  a  monarch's  smile  can  gild  his  chains. 
Tired'then,  perchance,  of  nets  that  daily  claim 
Thy  renovating  labor,  thou  wilt  form, 
With  elm  and  oak,  a  rustic  balustrade 
Of  firmest  juncture  ;  happy  could  thy  toil 
Make  it  as  fair  as  firm  ;  yet  vain  the  wish,  — 
Aim  but  to  bide,  not  grace  its  formal  line. 


Let  those,  who  weekly,  from  the  city's  smoke, 
Crowd  to  each  neighboring  hamlet,  there  to  hold 
Their  dusty  Sabbath,  tip  with  gold  and  red  I 

The  milk-white  palisades,  that  Gothic  now. 
And  now  Chinese,  now  neither,  and  yet  both, 
Checker  their  trim  domain.     Thy  sylvan  scene 
Would  fade,  indignant  at  the  tawdry  glare. 

'Tis  thine  alone  to  seek  what  shadowy  hues 
Tinging  thy  fence  may  lose  it  in  the  lawn  ; 


1  The  twine  string  has  ftenerally  fealhers  tied  along 
TIrgil  allu.lea  to  it  in  Oeorgics,  Book  III.,  Une  368  j  also 
his  arth  Xaeid,  line  T49. 


170 


RURAL    POETRY. MASON. 


And  these  to  give  thee  Painting  must  descend 
Ev'n  to  her  meanest  oflBce  ;  grind,  compound, 
Compare,  and  by  the  distanced  eye  decide. 

HOW  TO  PREPARE  i  PilST  PROPER  FOR  A  FESCE.  —  OLIVE 

For  this  she  first,  with  snowy  ceruse,  joins 
The  ocherous  atoms  that  chalybeate  rills 
Wash  from  their  mineral  channels,  as  they  glide, 
In  flakes  of  earthy  gold  ;  with  these  unites 
A  tinge  of  blue,  or  that  deep  azure  gray, 
Formed  from  the  calcined  fibres  of  the  vine  ; 
And,  if  she  blends,  with  sparing  hand  she  blends 
That  base  metallic  drug  then  only  prized, 
When,  aided  by  the  humid  touch  of  Time, 
It  gives  a  Nero's  or  some  tyrant's  cheek 
Its  precious  canker.     These,  with  fluent  oil 
Attempered,  on  thy  lengthening  rail  shall  spread 
That  sober  olive-green  which  Nature  wears 
E'en  on  her  vernal  bosom  :  nor  misdeem. 
For  that,  illumined  with  the  noontide  ray, 
She  boasts  a  brighter  garment ;  therefore  Art 
A  livelier  verdure  to  thy  aid  should  bring. 
Know  when  that  Art,  with  every  varied  hue. 
Portrays  the  living  landscape  ;  when  her  hand 
Commands  the  canvas  plane  to  glide  with  streams. 
To  wave  with  foliage,  or  with  flowers  to  breathe. 
Cool  olive  tints,  in  soft  gradation  laid, 
Create  the  general  herbage  ;  there  alone, 
Where  darts,  with  vivid  force,  the  ray  supreme. 
Unsullied  verdure  reigns  ;  and  tells  our  eye 
It  stole  its  bright  reflection  from  the  sun. 


THE   EFFECT  OF    PAINT   I 

The  paint  is  spread  ;  the  barrier  pales  retire, 
Snatched,  as  by  magic,  from  the  gazer's  view. 
So,  when  the  sable  ensign  of  the  night. 
Unfurled  by  mist-impelling  Eurus,  veils 
The  last  red  radiance  of  declining  day, 
Each  scattered  village,  and  each  holy  spire 
That  decked  the  distance  of  the  sylvan  scene. 
Are  sunk  in  sudden  gloom  :  the  plodding  hind. 
That  homeward  hies,  kens  not  the  cheering  site 
Of  his  calm  cabin,  which,  a  moment  past. 
Streamed  from  its  roof  an  azure  curl  of  smoke, 
Beneath  the  sheltering  coppice,  and  gave  sign 
Of  warm  domestic  welcome  from  his  toil. 

THE   cotter's    healthy   CHILDREN.  —  fflRE  THEM   A3  A  I 


Nor  is  that  cot,  of  which  fond  fancy  draws 
This  casual  picture,  alien  from  our  theme. 
Revisit  it  at  morn  ;   its  opening  latch. 
Though  penury  and  toil  within  reside. 
Shall  pour  thee  forth  a  youthful  progeny 
Glowing  with  health  and  beauty  (such  the  dower 
Of  equal  Heaven):  see,  how  the  ruddy  tribe 
Throng  round  the  threshold,  and,  with  vacant  gaze, 
Salute  thee  ;  call  the  loiterers  into  use. 
And  form  of  these  thy  fence,  the  living  fence 
That  graces  what  it  guards.     Thou  think'st,  per- 
chance, 


That,  skilled  in  Nature's  heraldry,  thy  art 
Has,  in  the  limits  of  yon  fragrant  tuft, 
Marehalled  each  rose,  that  to  the  eye  of  June 
Spreads  its  peculiar  crimson  ;  do  not  err  : 
The  loveliest  still  is  wanting  ;   the  fresh  rose 
Of  innocence,  it  blossoms  on  their  cheek. 
And,  lo,  to  thee  they  bear  it !  striving  all. 
In  panting  race,  who  first  shall  reach  the  lawn. 
Proud  to  be  called  thy  shepherds. 


Want,  alas  ! 
Has  o'er  their  little  limbs  her  livery  hung, 
In  many  a  tattered  fold,  yet  still  those  limbs 
Are  shapely  ;  their  rude  locks  start  from  their  brow, 
Yet,  on  that  open  brow,  its  dearest  throne. 
Sits  sweet  Simplicity.     Ah,  clothe  the  troop 
In  such  a  russet  garb  as  best  befits 
Their  pastoral  oflice  ;  let  the  leathern  scrip 
Swing  at  their  side,  tip  thou  their  crook  with  steel. 
And  braid  their  hat  with  rushes,  then  to  each 
Assign  his  station  ;   at  the  close  of  eve. 
Be  it  their  care  to  pen  in  hurdled  cote 
The  flock,  and  when  the  matin  prime  returns, 
Their  care  to  set  them  free  ;  yet  watching  still 
The  liberty  they  lend,  oft  shalt  thou  hear 
Their  whistle  shrill,  and  oft  their  faithful  dog 
Shall  with  obedient  barkings  fright  the  flock 
From  wrong  or  robbery.     The  livelong  day 
Meantime  rolls  lightly  o'er  their  happy  heads  ; 
They  bask  on  sunny  hillocks,  or  disport 
In  rustic  pastime,  while  the  loveliest  grace. 
Which  only  lives  in  action  unrestrained. 
To  every  simple  gesture  lends  a  charm. 

;PR1NG.  —THE  FOCR  SEA- 


Pride  of  the  year,  purpureal  Spring  !  attend. 
And  in  the  cheek  of  these  sweet  innocents 
Behold  your  beauties  pictured.     As  the  cloud 
That  weeps  its  moment  from  thy  sapphire  heaven. 
They  frown  with  causeless  sorrow  ;   as  the  beam. 
Gilding  that  cloud,  with  causeless  mirth  they  smile. 
Stay,  pitying  Time  !  prolong  their  vernal  bliss. 
Alas  !  ere  we  can  note  it  in  our  song. 
Comes  manhood's  feverish  summer,  chilled  full  soon 
By  cold  autumnal  care,  till  wintry  age 
Sinks  in  the  frore  severity  of  death. 

Ah  !  who,  when  such  life's  momentary  dream. 
Would  mix  in  hireling  senates,  strenuous  there 
To  crush  the  venal  Hydra,  whose  fell  crests 
Rise  with  recruited  venom  from  the  wound  ! 
Who,  for  so  great  a  conflict,  would  forego 
Thy  sylvan  haunts,  celestial  Solitude  ! 
Where  self-improvement,  crowned  with  self-content. 
Await  to  bless  thy  votary. 

STORY  OF   PRINCE  ABDOLONVMCS. 

Nurtured  thus 
In  tranquil  groves,  listening  to  Nature's  voice. 


SUMMER  —  JUNE. 


171 


That  preached  from  whispering  trees,  g 
A  lesson  seldom  learnt  in  Reason's  school,  [brooks, 
The  wise  Sidonian  lived  : '  and,  though  the  pest 
Of  lawless  tyranny  around  him  raged  j 
Though  Strato,  great  alone  in  Persia's  gold. 
Uncalled,  unhallowed  by  the  people's  choice, 
Usurped  the  throne  of  his  bravo  ancestors. 
Yet  was  his  soul  all  peace  ;  a  garden's  caro 
His  only  thought,  its  charms  bis  only  pride. 
But  now  the  conquering  arms  of  Macedon 
Had  humbled  Persia.     Now  Phtcuicia's  realm 
Receives  the  Son  of  Ammon  ;  at  whoso  frown 
Her  tributary  kings  or  quit  their  thrones, 
Or  at  his  smile  retain  ;  and  Sidon,  now 
Freed  from  her  tyrant,  points  the  victor's  step 
To  where  her  rightful  sovereign,  doubly  dear 
By  birth  and  virtue,  pruned  his  garden  grove. 

LEBANON   AND   TnE   SHORES   OF   STRIA   AT   StSRISE. 

'T  was  at  that  early  hour,  when  now  the  sun 
Behind  majestic  Lebanon's  dark  veil 
Hid  his  ascending  splendor  ;  yet  through  each 
Her  cedar-vested  sides  his  slanting  beams 
Shot  to  the  strand,  and  purpled  all  the  main, 
Where  commerce  saw  her  Sidon's  freighted  wealth, 
With  languid  streamers,  and  with  folded  sails. 
Float  in  a  lake  of  gold.     The  wind  was  hushed  ; 
And,  to  the  beach,  each  slowly-lifted  wave, 
Creeping  with  silver  curl,  just  kissed  the  shore. 
And  slept  in  silence.     At  this  tranquil  hour 
Did  Sidon's  senate,  and  the  Grecian  host, 
Led  by  the  conqueror  of  the  world,  approach 
The  secret  glade  that  veiled  the  man  of  toil. 


Now  near  the  mountain's  foot  the  chief  arrived. 
Where,  round  that  glade,  a  pointed  aloe  screen, 
Entwined  with  myrtle,  met  in  tangled  brakes. 
That  barred  all  entrance,  save  at  one  low  gate. 
Whose  time-disjointed  arch,  with  ivy  chained. 
Bade  stoop  the  warrior  train.     A  pathway  brown 
Led  through  the  pass,  meeting  a  fretful  brook. 
And  wandering  near  its  channel,  while  it  leaped 
O'er  many  a  rocky  fragment,  where  rude  art 
Had  eased,  perchance,  but  not  prescribed  its  way. 


Close  was  the  vale  and  shady  ;  yet  ere  long 
Its  forest  sides,  retiring,  left  a  lawn 
Of  ample  circuit,  where  the  widening  stream 
Now  o'er  its  pebbled  channel  nimbly  tripped 
In  many  a  lucid  maze.     From  the  flowered  verge 
Of  this  clear  rill  now  strayed  the  devious  path. 
Amid  ambrosial  tufts  where  spicy  plants. 
Weeping  their  perfumed  tears  of  myrrh,  and  nard. 
Stood  crowned  with  Sharon's  rose  ;  or  where,  apart, 
The  patriarch  palm  his  load  of  sugared  dates 
Showered  plenteous  ;    where  the  fig,  of  standard 
strength, 

1  Abdolonjinus,  who,  from  a  gardener,  was  made  a  king  ; 
see  his  story,  in  Diodorus  Sioulus,  Plutarch,  Justin,  or 
Quintus  Curtius. 


And  rich  pomegranate,  wrapped  in  dulcet  pulp 
Their  racy  seeds  ;  or  where  the  citron's  bough 
Bent  with  its  load  of  golden  fruit  mature. 
Meanwhile  the  lawn  beneath  the  scattered  shade 
Spread  its  serene  extent  ;  a  stately  file 
Of  circling  cypress  marked  the  distant  bound. 

Tna  STREAMLET,  FALL,  ANO  BASIS. 

Now,  to  the  loft,  the  path  ascending  pierced 
A  smaller  s^'lvan  theatre,  yot  decked 
^Vith  more  majestic  foliage.     Cedars  here, 
Coeval  with  the  sky-crowned  mountain's  self. 
Spread  wide  their  giant  arms  :  whence,  from  a  rock 
Craggy  and  black,  that  seemed  its  fountain  head, 
The  stream  fell  headlong  ;  yet  still  higher  rose. 
Even  in  the  eternal  snows  of  Lebanon, 
That  hallowed  spring  ;  thence,  in  the  porous  earth 
Long  while  engulfed,  its  crystal  weight  hero  forced 
Its  way  to  light  and  freedom.     Down  it  dashed  ; 
A  bed  of  native  marble  pure  received 
The  new-born  Naiad,  and  reposed  her  wave, 
Till  with  o'erflowing  pride  it  skimmed  the  lawn. 


Fronting  this  lake  there  rose  a  solemn  grot, 
O'er  which  an  ancient  vine  luxuriant  flung 
Its  purple  clusters,  and  beneath  its  roof 
An  unhewn  altar.     Ilieh  Saba?an  gums 
That  altar  piliil.  an.i  thrir  with  torch  of  pine 
The  vencnibl.  ,-.il-  .  u..n  lii-i  .loscricd 
The  fragrant  in.  .1,.,    kiu^ll.  a.     Ago  had  shed 
That  dust  of  silver  u'ur  bi.s  sable  locks, 
Which  spoke  his  strength  mature  beyond  its  prime. 
Yet  vigorous  still,  for  from  his  healthy  cheek 
Time  had  not  cropped  a  rose,  or  on  his  brow 
One  wrinkling  furrow  ploughed  :  his  eagle  eye 
Had  all  its  youthful  lightning,  and  each  limb 
The  sinewy  strength  that  toil  demands,  and  gives. 


The  warrior  saw  and  paused  :  his  nod  withheld 
The  crowd  at  awful  distance,  where  their  cars. 
In  mute  attention,  drank  the  Sage's  prayer. 
'  Parent  of  Good,'  ho  cried,  '  behold  the  gifts 
Thy  humble  votary  brings,  and  may  thy  smile 
Hallow  his  customed  offering.     Let  the  hand 
That  deals  in  blood  with  blood  thy  shrines  distain  ; 
Be  mine  this  harmless  tribute.     If  it  speaks 
A  grateful  heart,  can  hecatombs  do  more  ? 
Parent  of  Good  !  they  cannot.     Purple  Pomp 
May  call  thy  presence  to  a  prouder  fane 
Than  this  poor  cave  ;  but  will  thy  presence  there 
Be  more  devoutly  felt  ?     Parent  of  Good  ! 
It  will  not.     Here  then  shall  the  prostrate  heart. 
That  deeply  feels  thy  presence,  lift  its  prayer. 
But  what  has  ho  to  ask  who  nothing  needs. 
Save,  what,  unasked,  is  from  thy  heaven  of  heavens 
Given  in  diurnal  good  ?     Y^ct,  holy  Power  ! 
Do  all  that  call  Thee,  Father,  thus  exult 
In  thy  propitious  presence  ?    Sidon  sinks 
Beneath  a  tyrant's  scourge.     Parent  of  Good  ! 
0  free  my  captive  country.'    Sudden  here 
He  paused  and  sighed.  And  now,  the  raptured  crowd 


172 


RURAL    POETRY. MASON. 


Murmur  applause  :  he  heard,  he  turned  and  saw 
The  King  of  Macedon  with  eager  step 
Burst  from  his  warrior  phalanx. 

PATRIOTISM. 

From  the  youth, 
Who  hore  its  state,  the  conqueror's  own  right  hand 
Snatched  the  rich  wreath,  and  bound  it  on  his  brow. 
His  swift  attendants  o'er  his  shoulders  cast 
The  robe  of  empire,  while  the  trumpet's  voice 
Proclaimed  him  King  of  Sidon.     Stern  he  stood, 
Or   if  he  smiled,  'twas  a  contemptuous  smile, 
That  held  the  pageant  honors  in  disdain. 
Then  burst  the  people's  voice,  in  loud  acclaim, 
And  bade  him  be  their  father.     At  the  word. 
The  honored  blood,  that  warmed  him,  flushed  his 
His  brow  expanded  ;  his  exalted  step         [cheek  ; 
Marched  firmer  ;  graciously  he  bowed  the  head. 
And  was  the  sire  they  called  him.  '  Tell  me,  king,' 
Young  Ammon  cried,  while  o'er   his  bright'ning 
He  cast  the  gaze  of  wonder,  '  how  a  soul  [form 

Like  thine  eould  bear  the  toils  of  penury.' 
'  0  grant  me,  gods  ! '  he  answered,  ■  so  to  bear 
This  load  of  royalty.     My  toil  was  crowned 
With  blessings  lost  to  kings ;  yet,  righteous  powers  ! 
If  to  my  country  ye  transfer  the  boon, 
I  triumph  in  the  loss.     Be  mine  the  chains 
That  fetter  sovereignty  ;  let  Sidon  smile 
With  your  best  blessings.  Liberty  and  Peace.' 


Closed  is  that  curious  ear,  by  Death's  cold  hand. 
That  marked  each  error  of  my  careless  strain  ' 
With  kind  severity  ;  to  whom  my  muse 
Still  loved  to  whisper,  what  she  meant  to  sing 
In  louder  accent ;  to  whose  taste  supreme 
She  first  and  last  appealed,  nor  wished  for  praise. 
Save  when  his  smile  was  herald  to  her  fame. 
Yes,   thou  art  gone  !    yet  Friendship's    faltering 

tongue 
Invokes  thee  still ;  and  still,  by  Fancy  soothed. 
Fain  would  she  hope  her  Gray  attends  the  call. 
Why,  then,  alas  !  in  this  my  favorite  haunt, 
Place  I  the  urn,  the  bust,  the  sculptured  lyre, 
Or  fix  this  votive  tablet,  fair  inscribed 
With  numbers  worthy  thee,  for  they  are  thine? 
Why,  if  thou  hear'st  me  still,  these  symbols  sad 
Of  fond  memorial  ?  '     Ah  !  my  pensive  soul ! 
He  hears  me  not,  nor  evermore  shall  hear 
The  theme  his  candor,  not  his  taste  approved. 


Oft,  ■  smiling  as  in  scorn,'  oft  would  he  cry, 
'  Why  waste  thy  numbers  on  a  trivial  art, 

1  The  poet  Gray  died  July  31st,  1771 ;  this  book  was 
began  a  few  montlia  after.  Mason  placed  a  medallion  of  his 
friend  Gray,  in  a  rustic  alcove  of  his  garden,  with  an  urn  ; 
and  over  the  entrance  a  lyre,  with  Gray's  motto  to  his 
odes,  from  Pindar.  Beneath  were  four  hues  from  Gray  a 
Elegy,  beginning, '  Here  scattered  oft,'  etc. 


That  ill  can  mimic  even  the  humblest  charms 

Of  all-majestic  nature  ? '    At  the  word 

His  eye  would  glisten,  and  his  accents  glow 

With  all  the  poet's  frenzy.    '  Sovereign  queen  ! 

Behold,  and  tremble,  while  thou  view'st  her  state 

Throned  on  the  heights  of  Skiddaw  :  call  thy  art 

To  build  her  such  a  throne  ;  that  art  will  feel 

How  vain  her  best  pretensions.     Trace  her  march 

Amid  the  purple  crags  of  Borrowdale  ; 

And  try  like  those  to  pile  thy  range  of  rock 

In  rude  tumultuous  chaos.     See  !  she  mounts 

Her  Naiad  car,  and  down  Lodore's  dread  cliff 

Falls  many  a  fathom,  like  the  headlong  bard 

My  fabling  fancy  plunged  in  Conway's  flood  ; 

Yet  not  like  him  to  sink  in  endless  night : 

For,  on  its  boiling  bosom,  still  she  guides 

Her  buoyant  shell,  and  leads  the  wave  along  ; 

Or  spreads  it  broad,  a  river,  or  a  lake. 

As  suits  her  pleasure  ;  will  thy  boldest  song 

E'er  brace  the  sinews  of  enervate  art 

To  such  dread  daring  ?  will  it  ev'n  direct 

Her  hand  to  emulate  those  softer  charms 

That  deck  the  banks  of  Dove,  or  call  to  birth 

The  bare  romantic  crags,  and  copses  green, 

That  sidelong  grace  her  circuit,  whence  the  rills, 

Bright  in  their  crystal  purity,  descend 

To  meet  their  sparkling  queen  ?  Around  each  fount 

The  hawthorns  crowd  and  knit  their  blossomed  sprays 

To  keep  their  sources  sacred.     Here,  e'en  here, 

Thy  art,  each  active  sinew  stretched  in  vain. 

Would  perish  in  its  pride.     Far  rather  thou 

Confess  her  scanty  power,  correct,  control, 

Tell  her  how  far,  nor  further,  she  may  go  ; 

And  rein  with  Reason's  curb  fantastic  Taste.' 

TASTE  TO  BB  CUBBED  BT  REASON. 

Yes,  I  will  hear  thee,  dear  lamented  shade. 
And  hold  each  dictate  sacred.     What  remains 
Unsung  shall  so  each  leading  rule  select 
As  if  still  guided  by  thy  judgment  sage  ; 
While,  as  still  modelled  to  thy  curious  ear. 
Flow  my  melodious  numbers  ;  so  shall  praise. 
If  aught  of  praise  the  verse  I  weave  may  claim. 
From  just  posterity  reward  my  song. 


Erewhile  to  trace  the  path,  to  form  the  fence. 
To  mark  the  destined  limits  of  the  lawn. 
The  muse,  with  measured  step,  preceptive,  paced. 
Now  from  the  surface  with  impatient  flight 
She  mounts,  Sylvanus  !  o'er  thy  world  of  shade 
To  spread  her  pinions.     Open  all  thy  glades. 
Greet  her  from  all  thy  echoes.     Orpheus-Ukc, 
Armed  with  the  spells  of  harmony,  she  comes, 
To  lead  thy  forests  forth  to  lovelier  haunts. 
Where  Fancy  waits  to  fix  them  ;  from  the  dell 
Where  now  they  lurk  she  calls  them  to  possess 
Conspicuous  stations  ;  to  their  varied  forms 
Allots  congenial  place  ;  selects,  divides. 
And  blends  anew  in  one  Elysian  scene. 


Yet  while  I  thus  exult,  my  weak  tongue  feels 
Its  ineffcotual  powers,  and  seeks  in  vain 
That  force  of  ancient  phrase  which,  speaking,  paints 
And  is  the  thing  it  sings.     Ah,  Virgil  !  why, 
By  thee  neglootod,  was  this  loveliest  theme 
liuft  tc  till   -I  ifniL-  \    i 'I  ^f  niodern  reed? 

Why  lie  I :        |ilrndid  robe 

Ofthyri-ii    I  i     I  -ign  the  charge 

To  Fame,  i\'\  h  Ml  I  In  III,  wliose  immortal  plume 
Had  borne  its  iiiaise  beyond  the  bounds  of  time? 


IBB  Dinsrrr 


KISODOM.  —  BEST    TUBES 


Countless  is  Vegetation's  verdant  brood 
As  are  the  stars  that  stud  yon  cope  of  heaven  ; 
To  marshal  all  her  tribes,  in  ordered  file 
Generic,  or  speciBe,  might  demand 
His  science,  wondrous  Swede  !  whuiJe  ample  mind, 
Like  ancient  Tadmor's  philosophic  kin;:, 
Stretched  from  the  hyssop  creeping  on  the  wall 
To  Lebanon's  proudest  cedars.     Skill  like  this, 
Which  spans  a  third  of  Nature's  copious  realm. 
Our  art  requires  not,  sedulous  alone 
To  note  those  general  properties  of  form, 
Dimension,  growth,  duration,  strength,  and  hue. 
Then  first  imprest,  when,  at  the  dawn  of  time, 
The  fc.rm-.ir(ii|i„._-,  Hf,- inspiring  Word 
PronmiiH     i  I'  I  ,1    I        1  .  irij;.     These  prime  marks 
Bistiiiiti ,  '1        I  \  makes  her  own. 

That  eitili  ii-    I  ,t  I  ,,\  v     i nr  may  supply 

To  her  wished  purp<..<e  ;   first,  with  needful  shade, 
To  veil  whate'er  of  wall,  or  fence  uncouth. 
Disgusts  the  eye,  which  tyrant  Use  has  reared. 
And  stern  Necessity  forbids  to  change. 


Lured  by  their  hasty  shoots,  and  branching  stems, 
Planters  there  are  who  choose  the  race  of  pine 
For  this  great  end,  erroneous  ;  witless  they 
That,  as  their  arrowy  heads  assault  the  sky. 
They  leave  their  shafts  unfcathered  :  rather  thou 
Select  the  shrubs  that,  patient  of  the  knife. 
Will  thank  thee  for  the  wound,  the  hardy  thorn. 
Holly,  or  bo.x,  privet,  or  pyracanth. 
They,  thickening  from  their  base,  with  ten-fold  shade 
Will  soon  replenish  all  thy  judgment  pruned. 

TBE  EXOLISH  LACRF.I,  LACR0-CEBASC3,  THE  BEST  SCREES. 

But  chief,  with  willing  aid,  her  glittering  green 
Shall  England's  laurel  bring  ;  swift  shall  she  spread 
Her  broad-leaved  shade,  and  float  it  fair,  and  wide. 
Proud  to  be  called  an  inmate  of  the  soil. 
Let  England  prize  this  daughter  of  the  East ' 
Beyond  that  Latian  plant,  of  kindred  name. 
That  wreathed  the  head  of  Julius  ;  basely  twined 
Its  flattering  foliage  on  the  traitor's  brow 

1  The  common  English  laurel  was  sent,  with  the  horac- 

1  Constantinople  to  Holland,  iu  1576,  lo  Clusius, 

"   raa  called  Trabison  cur- 


173 


Who  crushed  his  country's  freedom.     Sacred  tree. 

Ne'er  be  thy  brighter  verdure  thus  debased  ! 

Far  happier  thou,  in  this  secjuestered  bower. 

To  shroud  thy  poet,  who,  with  fostering  hand, 

Here  bade  thee  flourish,  and  with  grateful  strain 

Now  chants  the  praise  of  thy  niaturcr  bloom. 

And  happier  far  that  poet,  if,  secure 

His  hearth  and  altars  from  the  pilfering  slaves 

Of  power,  his  little  eve  of  lonely  life 

May  here  steal  on,  blest  with  the  heartfelt  calm 

That  competence  and  liberty  inspire. 


Nor  are  the  plants  which  England  calls  her  own 
Few,  or  unlovely,  that,  with  laurel  joined, 
And  kindred  foliage  of  perennial  green, 
Will  form  a  close-knit  curtain.     Shrubs  there  are 
Of  bolder  ^-rowth,  that,  at  the  call  of  Spring, 
Hurst  forth  in  blossomed  fragrance  :  lilacs  robed 
In  snow-white  innocence,  or  purple  pride  ; 
The  sweet  syringa  yielding  but  in  scent 
To  the  rich  orange  ;  or  the  woodbine  wild. 
That  loves  to  hang,  on  barren  boughs  remote. 
Her  wreaths  of  flowery  perfume.     These  beside 
Myriads,  that  here  the  muse  neglects  to  name. 
Will  add  a  vernal  lustre  to  thy  veil. 

CHAKCE     EFFECTS.  —  PROVIDE     FOR    SPRISO     AND     SUMMl 


And  what  if  chance  collects  the  varied  tribes. 
Yet  fear  not  thou  but  unexpected  charms 
Will  from  their  union  start.     But  if  our  song 
Supply  one  precept  here,  it  bids  retire 
Each  leaf  of  deeper  dye,  and  lift  in  front 
Foliage  of  paler  verdure,  so  to  spread 
A  canvas,  which  when  touched  by  Autumn's  hand 
Shall  gleam  with  dusky  gold,  or  russet  rays. 
But  why  prepare  for  her  funereal  hand 
That  canvas  ?  she  but  comes  to  dress  thy  shades. 
As  lovelier  victims  for  their  wintry  tomb. 
Rather  to  flowery  Spring,  to  Summer  bright. 
Thy  labors  consecrate  ;   their  laughing  reign. 
The  youth,  the  manhood  of  the  growing  year, 
Deserves  that  labor,  and  rewards  its  i>ain. 
Yet,  heedful  ever  of  that  ruthless  time 
AVhen  Winter  shakes  their  stems,  preserve  a  file 
With  ever-during  leaf  to  brave  his  arm, 
And  deepening  spread  their  undiminished  gloom. 

TALLER  TREES  MCST  SOT  INTERCEPT  AIR  AND  SCNSIIISE  FROl 


But,  if  the  tall  defect  ( 
Of  forest  shade  high-towering,  some  broad  roof 
Perchance  of  glaring  tile  that  guards  the  stores 
Of  Ceres  ;  or  the  patched  disjointed  choir 
Of  some  old  fane,  whose  steeple's  Gothic  pride 
Or  pinnacled,  or  spired,  would  bolder  rise 
'  In  tufted  trees  high  bosomed,'  here  allot 
Convenient  space  to  plant  that  lofty  tribe 
Behind  thy  underwood,  lest  o'er  its  head 
i  The  forest  tyrants  shake  their  lordly  arms, 


174 


RURAL  POETRY. 


And  shed  their  baleful  dewa.  Each  plant  that  springs 
Holds,  like  the  people  of  some  free-born  state, 
Its  rights  fair  franchiscd  ;   rooted  to  a  spot, 
It  yet  has  claim  to  air  ;   from  liberal  heaven 
It  yet  has  claim  to  sunshine,  and  to  showers  : 
Air,  showers,  and  sunshine,  are  its  liberty. 


ORNAMENTAL  SHRUBBERT. — ^OUKU  BIKU: 

That  liberty  secured,  a  general  shade, 
Dense  and  impervious,  to  thy  wish  shall  rise 
To  hide  each  form  uncouth  ;  and  this  obtained, 
"WTiat  next  we  from  the  Dryad  powers  implore 


■  lawn. 


Though  clothed  with  softest  verdure,  though  relieved 
By  many  a  gentle  fall  and  easy  swell. 
Expects  that  harmony  of  light  and  shade, 
Which  foliage  only  gives.     Come,  then,  ye  plants  ! 
That,  like  the  village  troop  when  Maia  dawns, 
Delight  to  mingle  social  ;  to  the  crest 
Of  yonder  brow  we  safely  may  conduct 
Your  numerous  train  ;   no  eye  obstructed  there 
Will  blame  your  interposed  society  : 
Dut,  on  the  plain  beluw,  in  single  stems 
Disparted,  or  in  sparing  groups  distinct. 
Wide  must  ye  stand,  in  wild,  disordered  mood, 
As  if  the  seeds  from  which  your  scions  sprang 
Had  there  been  scattered  from  the  affrighted  beak 
Of  some  maternal  bird  whom  the  fierce  hawk 
Pursued  with  felon  claw.     Her  young  meanwhile 
Callow,  and  cold,  from  their  moss-woven  nest 
Peep  forth  ;   they  stretch  their  little  eager  throats 
Broad  to  the  wind,  and  plead  to  the  lone  spray 
Their  famished  plaint  importunately  shrill. 


Yet  in  this  wild  disorder  Art  presides, 
Designs,  corrects,  and  regulates  the  whole, 
Herself  the  while  unseen.     No  cedar  broad 
Drops  his  dark  curtain  where  a  distant  scene 
Demands  distinction.     Here  the  thin  abele 
Of  lofty  bole,  and  bare,  the  smooth-stemmed  beech, 
Or  slender  alder,  give  our  eye  free  space 
Beneath  their  boughs  to  catch  each  lessening  charm, 
E'en  to  the  far  horizon's  azure  bound. 


Nor  will  that  sovereign  arbitress  admit. 
Where'er  her  nod  decrees  a  mass  of  shade. 
Plants  of  unequal  size,  discordant  kind, 
Or  ruled  by  foliation's  different  laws  ; 
But  for  that  needful  purpose  those  prefers 
Whose  hues  are  friendly,  whose  coeval  leaves 
The  earliest  open,  and  the  latest  fade. 

Nor  will  she,  scorning  truth  and  taste,  devote 
To  strange  and  alien  soils  her  seedling  stems  ; 
Fix  the  dank  sallow  on  the  mountain's  brow, 
Or  to  the  moss-grown  margin  of  the  lake 
Bid  the  dry  pino  descend.     From  Nature's  laws 
She  draws  her  own  ;  Nature  and  she  are  one. 

Nor  will  she,  led  by  fashion's  lure,  select. 


For  objects  interposed,  the  pigmy  race 

Of  shrubs,  or  scatter  with  unmeaning  hand 

Their  offspring  o'er  the  lawn,  scorning  to  patch 

With  many  a  meagre  and  disjointed  tuft 

Its  sober  surface  :  sidelong  to  her  path 

And  polished  foreground  she  confines  their  growth 

Where  o'er  their  heads  the  liberal  eye  may  range. 


Nor  will  her  prudence,  when  intent  to  form 
One  perfect  whole,  on  feeble  aid  depend. 
And  give  exotic  wonders  to  our  gaze. 
She  knows  and  therefore  fears  the  faithless  train  ; 
Sagely  she  calls  on  those  of  hardy  class 
Indigenous,  who,  patient  of  the  change 
From  heat  to  cold  which  Albion  hourly  feels. 
Are  braced  with  strength  to  brave  it.     These  alone 
She  plants,  and  prunes,  nor  grieves  if  nicer  eyes 
Pronounce  them  vulgar.  These  she  calls  her  friends. 
That  veteran  troop  who  will  not  for  a  blast 
Of  nipping  air,  like  cowards,  quit  the  field. 


Far  to  the  north  of  thy  imperial  towers, 
Augusta  !  in  that  wild  and  Alpine  vale. 
Thro'  which  the  Swale,  by  mountain-torrents  swelled, 
Flings  his  redundant  stream,  there  lived  a  youth 
Of  polished  manners  ;   ample  his  domain, 
And  fair  the  site  of  his  paternal  dome. 
He  loved  the  art  I  sing  ;   a  deep  adept 
In  Nature's  story,  well  he  knew  the  names 
Of  all  her  verdant  lineage  ;  yet  that  skill 
Misled  his  taste  ;   scornful  of  every  bloom 
That  spreads  spontaneous,  from  remotest  Ind 
He  brought  his  foliage  ;  careless  of  its  cost. 
E'en  of  its  beauty  careless  ;  it  was  rare. 
And  therefore  beauteous.     Now  his  laurel  screen, 
With  rose  and  woodbine  negligently  wove, 
Bows  to  the  axe  ;  the  rich  magnolias  claim 
The  station  ;  now  herculean  beeches  felled 
Resign  their  rights,  and  warm  Virginia  sends 
Her  cedars  to  usurp  them  ;  the  proud  oak 
Himself,  even  he,  the  sovereign  of  the  shade. 
Yields  to  the  fir  that  drips  with  Gilead's  balm. 
Now,  Albion,  gaze  at  glories  not  thy  own  ! 
Pause,  rapid  Swale  !  and  see  thy  margin  crowned 
With  all  the  pride  of  Ganges  ;  vernal  showers 
Have  fixed  their  roots  ;  nutritious  summer  suns 
Favored  their  growth  ;  and  mildest  autumn  smiled 
Benignant  o'er  them  :  vigorous,  fair,  and  tall, 
They  waft  a  gale  of  spices  o'er  the  plain. 
But  winter  comes,  and  with  him  watery  Jove, 
And  with  him  Boreas  in  his  frozen  shroud  ; 
The  savage  spirit  of  old  Swale  is  roused  ; 
He  howls  amidst  his  foam.     At  the  dread  sight 
The  aliens  stand  aghast  ;  they  bow  their  heads. 
In  vain  the  glassy  penthouse  is  supplied  : 
The  pelting  storm  with  icy  bullets  breaks 
Its  fragile  barrier  ;  see  !  they  fade,  they  die. 


SUMMER — JUNE. 


175 


now  TO  DISPOSS  OP  KTOT1C8. 


Warned  by  his  error,  let  the  planter  flight 
Those  shivering  rarities  ;  or  if,  to  pleoso 
Fastidious  fashion,  ho  must  needs  allot 
Some  space  for  foreign  foliage,  let  liira  choose 
A  sidelong  glade,  sheltered  from  cost  and  north, 
And  free  to  southern  and  to  western  gales  ; 
Thoro  let  him  lix  their  station  ;  thither  wind 
Some  devious  path,  that,  from  the  chief  design 
Detached,  may  lead  to  where  they  safely  bloom. 
So  in  the  web  of  epic  song  sublime 
The  bard  Mrconian  interweaves  the  charm 
Of  softer  episode,  yet  leaves  unbroko 
The  golden  thread  of  his  majestic  theme. 


What  else  to  shun  of  formal,  false,  or  vain, 
or  l(.iij;-liiK-il  vistn.1,  or  plantations  quaint, 
Our  foiiucr  strains  have  taught.     Instruction  now 
Withdraws  ;  she  knows  her  limits  ;  knows  that  grace 
Is  caught  by  strong  perception,  not  from  rules  ; 
That  undressed  Nature  claims  for  all  her  limbs 
Some  simple  garb  peculiar,  which,  howc'er 
Distinct  their  size  and  shape,  is  simple  still. 
This  garb  to  choose,  with  clothing  dense,  or  thin, 
A  part  to  hide,  another  to  adorn. 
Is  Taste's  important  task  ;  preceptive  song 
From  error  in  the  ohoioe  can  only  warn. 


But  vain  that  warning  voice  ;  vain  every  aid 
Of  Genius,  .Judgment,  Fancy,  to  secure 
The  planter's  liusting  fame  :  there  is  a  power, 
A  hidden  power,  at  once  his  friend  and  foe  : 
'T  is  Vegetation.     Gradual  to  his  groves 
She  gives  their  wished  elTcct  ;  and,  that  displayed, 
0,  that  her  power  would  pause  !  but,  active  still, 
She  swells  each  stem,  prolongs  each  vagrant  bough, 
And  darts  with  unremitting  vigor  bold 
From  grace  to  wild  luxuriance.     Happier  far 
Arc  you,  ye  sons  of  Claude  !  who,  from  the  mine, 
The  earth,  or  juice  of  herb  or  flower  concrete, 
Mingle  the  mass  whence  your  Arcadias  spring  : 
The  beauteous  outline  of  your  pictured  shades 
Still  keeps  the  bound  you  gave  it ;  time,  that  pales 
Your  vivid  hues,  respects  your  pleasing  forms. 
Not  so  our  landscapes  ;  though  we  paint  like  you. 
We  paint  with  growing  colors  ;  every  year, 
O'erpassing  that  which  gives  the  breadth  of  shade 
We  sought,  by  rude  addition  mars  our  scene. 


Rouse,  then,  ye  hinds  !  ere  yet  yon  closing  boughs 
Blot  out  the  purple  distance,  swift  prevent 
The  spreading  evil  :  thin  the  crowded  glades. 
While  yet  of  slender  size  each  stem  will  thrive 
Transplanted  :  twice  repeat  the  annual  toil  ; 
Nor  let  the  axe  its  beak,  the  saw  its  tooth. 
Refrain,  whene'er  some  random  branch  has  strayed 
Beyond  the  bounds  of  beauty  ;  else  fuU  soon. 


E'en  ere  the  planter's  life  has  past  its  prime, 
Will  Albion's  garden  frown  an  Indian  wild. 

Foreboding  fears,  avaunt !  be  ours  to  urgo 
Each  present  purpose  by  what  favoring  means 
May  work  its  end  designed  ;  why  deprecate 
The  change  that  waits  on  sublunary  tilings, 
Sad  lot  of  their  existence  ?  shall  wo  pause 
To  give  the  charm  of  wat«r  to  our  scoue. 
For  that  the  congregated  rains  may  swell 
Its  tide  into  a  flood  ?  or  that  yon  Sun, 
Now  on  the  Lion  mounted,  to  his  noon 
Impels  him,  shaking  from  his  fiery  mane 
A  heat  may  parch  its  channel  7    0,  ye  caves, 
Deepen  your  dripping  roofs  !  this  feverish  hour ' 
Claims  all  your  coolness  ;  in  your  humid  colls 
Permit  me  to  forget  the  planter's  toil ; 
And,  while  I  woo  your  Naiads  to  my  aid. 
Involve  me  in  impenetrable  gloom. 


Blest  13  the  man  (if  bliss  be  human  boast) 
Whose  fertile  soil  is  washed  with  frequent  streams. 
And  springs  salubrious.     He  disdains  to  toss 
In  rainbow  dews  their  crystal  to  the  sun  ; 
Or  sink  in  subtirniTU'ivii  cisterns  deep  ; 
That  so,  tbr.iHL-ii  I- .him    i|ili..n-  upward  drawn. 
Those  strciiiH    :         i         i,      :  n..     He  his  ear 
Shuts  to  the  lir  tin'  liard.* 

Who  tricked  a  i'    Lla-.  LhcuiL  with  classic  flowers. 
And  sung  of  fountains  burstiug  from  the  shells 
Of  brazen  Tritons,  spouting  through  the  jaws 
'  Of  Gorgons,  Hydras,  and  Chimseras  dire.' 

Peace  to  his  manes  !  let  the  nymphs  of  Seine 
Cherish  his  fame.     Thy  poet,  Albion  !  scorns, 
Even  for  a  cold  unconscious  clement. 
To  forge  the  fetters  he  would  scorn  to  wear. 
His  song  shall  reprobate  each  effort  vile. 
That  aims  to  force  the  Genius  of  the  stream 
Beyond  his  native  height ;  or  dares  to  press 
Above  that  destined  line  the  unwilling  wave. 


Is  there  within  the  circle  of  thy  view 
Some  sedgy  flat,  where  the  late-ripened  sheaves 
Stand  brown  with  unblest  mildew '?  't  is  the  bed 
On  which  an  ample  lake  in  crystal  peace 
Might  sleep  majestic.     Pause  we  yet ;  iierchance 
Some  midway  channel,  where  the  soil  declines. 
Might  there  be  delved,  by  levels  duly  led 
In  bold  and  broken  curves  :  for  water  loves 
A  wilder  outline  than  the  woodland  path. 
And  winds  with  shorter  bend.     To  drain  the  rest 
The  shelving  spade  may  toil,  till  wintry  showers 
Find  their  free  course  down  each  declining  bank. 
Quit  then  the  thought ;  a  river's  winding  form, 

1  Written  during  the  remarkably  hot  weather  of  June, 

-  Ren*  Rapin,  a  French  Jesuit,  who  wrote  a  Latin  poem 
on  Gardens,  in  four  books,  aa  a  supplement  to  Virgil's 


With  many  a  sinuous  bay  and  island  green, 

At  less  expense  of  labor  and  of  land, 

Will  give  thee  equal  beauty  :  seldom  art 

Can  emulate  that  broad  and  bold  extent 

Which  charms  in  native  lakes  -,  and,  fa.hng  there, 

Her  works  betray  their  character  and  name, 

And  dwindle  into  pools. 

Not  that  our  strain, 
Fastidious,  shall  disdain  a  small  expanse 
Of  stagnant  fluid,  in  some  scene  confined. 
Circled  with  varied  shade,  where,  through  the  leaves, 
The  half-admitted  sunbeam  trembling  plays 
On  its  clear  bosom  ;  where  aquatic  fowl 
Of  varied  tribe  and  varied  feather  sail  ; 
And  where  the  finny  race  their  glittering  scales 
Unwillingly  reveal  :  there,  there  alone 
Where  bursts  the  general  prospect  on  our  eye. 
We  scorn  these  watery  patches  :  Thames  himself. 
Seen  in  disjointed  spots,  where  sallows  hide 
His  first  bold  presence,  seems  a  string  of  pools  : 
A  chart  and  compass  must  explain  his  course. 

BOW   TO   FORM    i   MVER. 

He,  who  would  seize  the  river's  sovereign  charm. 
Must  wind  the  moving  mirror  through  his  lawn 
Ev'n  to  remotest  distance  ;  deep  must  delve 
The  gravelly  channel  that  prescribes  its  course  ; 
Closely  conceal  each  terminating  bound 
By  hill  or  shade  opposed  ;  and  to  its  bank 
Lifting  the  level  of  the  copious  stream,       ^ 
Must  there  retain  it.     But,  if  thy  faint  springs 
Refuse  this  large  supply,  steel  thy  firm  soul 
With  stoic  pride  ;  imperfect  charms  despise  : 
Beauty,  like  Virtue,  knows  no  grovelling  mean. 

TANKS  AND  CANALS  OS  TERRACES  SATIRIZED. 

Who  but  must  pity  that  penurious  taste. 
Which  down  the  quick-descending  vale  prolongs. 
Slope  below  slope,  a  stiff  and  unlinked  chain 
Of  flat  canals  ;  then  leads  the  stranger  s  eye 
To  some  predestined  station,  there  to  catch 
Their  seeming  union,  and  the  fraud  approve? 
Who  but  must  change  that  pity  into  scorn. 
If  down  each  verdant  slope  a  narrow  flight 
Of  central  steps  decline,  where  the  spare  stream 
Steals  trickling  ;  or,  withheld  by  cunning  skill. 
Hoards  its  scant  treasures,  till  the  masters  nod 
Decree  its  fall  :  then  down  the  formal  stairs 
It  leaps  with  short-lived  fury  ;  wasting  there, 
Poor  prodigal !  what  many  a  summer's  ral^ 
And  many  a  winter's  snow  shall  late  restore. 

now  TO  INSCBE  A  PERMANENT  CASCADE. 

Learn  that,  whene'er,  in  some  sublimer  scene, 
Imperial  Nature  of  her  headlong  floods 
Permits  our  imitation,  she  herself 
Prepares  their  reservoir  ;  concealed  perchance 
In  neighboring  hills,  where  fir.^t  it  well  behoves 
Our  toil  to  search,  and  studiously  augment 
The  watery  store  with  springs  and  sluices  drawn 


From  pools,  that  on  the  heath  drink  up  the  rain. 
Be  these  collected,  like  the  miser's  gold. 
In  one  increasing  fund,  nor  dare  to  pour, 
Down  thy  impending  mound,  the  bright  cascade, 
Till  richly  sure  of  its  redundant  fall. 

EMBANKMENT     FOR   A    CASCADE. —BRINDLET'S   FIRST  CANAL. 
_  IRIVELL.  — THE   FALL.  —  TEES. 

That  mound  to  raise  alike  demands  thy  toil. 
Ere  Art  adorn  its  surface.     Here  adopt 
That  facile  mode  which  his  inventive  powers  • 
First  planned  who  led  to  rich  Mancunium's  mart 
His  long-drawn  line  of  navigated  stream. 
Stupendous  task  !  in  vain  stood  towering  hills 
Opposed  ;  in  vain  did  ample  Irwell  pour 
Her  tide  transverse  :  he  pierced  the  towering  hill. 
He  bridged  the  ample  tide,  and  high  in  air. 
And  deep  through  earth,  his  freighted  barge  he  bore. 
This  mode  shall  temper  ev'n  the  lightest  soil 
Firm  to  thy  put>pose.     Then  let  Taste  select 
The  unhewn  fragments,  that  may  give  its  front 
A  rocky  rudeness  ;   pointed  some,  that  there 
The  frothy  spouts  may  break;  some  slanting  smooth 
That  there  in  silver  sheet  the  wave  may  slide. 
Here  too  infix  some  moss-grown  trunks  of  oak 
Romantic,  turned  by  gelid  lakes  to  stone, 
Yet  so  disposed  as  if  they  owed  their  change 
To  what  they  now  control.     Then  open  wide 
Thy  flood-gates  ;  then  let  down  thy  torrent  :  then 
Rejoice  ;  as  if  the  thundering  Tees"  himself 
Reigned  there  amid  his  cataracts  sublime. 


And  thou  hast  cause  for  triumph  !     Kings  them- 
With  all  a  nation's  wealth,  an  army's  toil,     [selves. 
If  Nature  frown  averse,  shall  ne'er  achieve 
Such  wonders  :  Nature's  was  the  glorious  gift ; 
Thy  art  her  menial  handmaid.     Listening  youths  ! 
To  whose  ingenuous  hearts  I  still  address 
The  friendly  strain,  from  such  severe  attempt 
Let  Prudence  warn  you.     Turn  to  this  clear  rill. 
Which,  while  I  bid  your  bold  ambition  cease. 
Runs  murmuring  at  my  side  :  O'er  many  a  rood 
Your  skill  may  lead  the  wanderer  ;  many  a  mound 
Of  pebbles  raise,  to  fret  her  in  her  course 
Impatient  :  louder  then  will  be  her  song  : 
For  she  will  'plain,  and  gurgle,  as  she  goes, 
As  does  the  widowed  ring-dove.     Take,  vain  Pomp  . 
Thy  lakes,  thy  long  canals,  thy  trim  cascades, 
Beyond  them  all  true  taste  will  dearly  prize 
This  little  dimpling  treasure. 

THE  NAIAD    LIXEIA.  —  CAVES.  —  STALACTITES. 

Mark  the  cleft. 
Through  which  she  bursts  to  day.    Behind  that  rock 
A  Naiad  dwells  :  Lineia--"  is  her  name  ; 

,  .,.,       „  .,,.„  :..  .,  pH-U.v   wlm  ma.l-  the  BridRewater 

'  T'.'   .i!..i-  "  ■-  '       " :,,-i  HiKndand.  He 


SUMMER  —  JUNE. 


177 


And  sho  has  siators  in  contiguous  colls, 
Who  never  saw  the  sun.     Fond  Fancy's  oyo, 
That  inly  gives  locality  and  form 
To  what  sho  prises  best,  full  oft  pervades 
Those  hidden  caverns,  whore  pale  chrysolites 
And  glittering  spars  dart  a  mysterious  gleam 
Of  inborn  lustre,  from  tho  garish  day 
Unborrowed.     There,  by  tho  wild  Goddess  led. 


ing  o'er  their  urns, 

I  ln-ir  moist  cerulean  looks 
Yet,  let  mo  own, 

like  these, 
;  prone  to  pay 


Oft  have  I  soon  the 
ChantiiiK  iili.  ii.-l- 

While   MU 

With.sh.  li 

To  these,  :  .     i 

From  very  childhui 
Harmless  idolatry. 


My  infant  eyes 
First  opened  on  that  bleak  and  boisterous  shore. 
Where  Humber  weds  the  nymphs  of  Trent  and  Ouse 
To  his  and  Ocean's  Tritons  :  thence  full  soon 
My  youth  retired,  and  left  the  busy  strand 
To  Commerce  and  to  Care.     In  Margaret's  grove,' 
Beneath  whoso  time-worn  shade  old  Camus  sleeps. 
Was  ne.\t  my  tranquil  station  :  Science  tbero 
Sat  musing  j  and  for  those  that  loved  the  lore 
Pointed,  with  mystic  wand,  to  truths  involved 
In  geometric  symbols,  scorning  those. 
Perchance  too  much,  who  wooed  the  thriftless  muse. 
Here,  though  in  warbling  whisper  oft  I  breathed 
The  lay,  were  wanting,  what  young  Fancy  deems 
The  life-springs  of  her  being,  rocks,  and  caves. 
And  huddling  brooks,  and  torrent-falls  divine. 
In  quest  of  these,  at  Summer's  vacant  hour. 
Pleased  would  I  stray  ;  when,  in  a  northern  vale. 
So  chance  ordained,  a  Xaiad  sad  I  found 
Robbed  of  her  silver  vase  ;  I  soothed  tho  nymph 
With  song  of  sympathy,  and  cursed  the  fiend 
Who  stole  the  gift  of  Thetis.'    Hence  the  cause 
Why,  favored  by  tho  blue-eyed  sisterhood, 
They  sootho  with  songs  my  solitary  ear. 

WATEB.  —  ITS     POWERS     AND     PRAISES.  —  rTS     LE3SO.<t3     OP 
GRATITrOB,     BESBVOLBSCE,    UUMIUTY,     INDDSTRT,       AND 

Nor  is  Lincia  silent  — '  Long,'  she  cries, 
'  Too  long  has  man  waged  sacrilegious  war 
With  the  vexed  elements,  and  chief  with  that, 
Which  elder  Thalcs,  and  tho  bard  of  Thebes, 
Held  first  of  things  tcrrestial  ;  nor  misdeemed  : 
For,  when  the  Spirit  creative  deigned  to  move. 
He  moved  upon  tlio  waters.     0  revere 
Our  power  :  for  were  its  vital  force  withheld, 
Where  then  are  Vegetation's  vernal  bloom, 
Where  its  autumnal  wealth  ?  but  we  are  kind 
As  powerful  ;  0  let  reverence  lead  to  love. 
And  both  to  emulation  !     Not  a  rill, 
That  winds  its  sparkling  current  o'er  the  plain, 

'  St.  John's  College,  in  CainbriclRe,  founded  by  Margaret, 
Countess  of  Richmonil,  mother  of  Uenry  VII. 

2  Alluding  to  .Ma.sDn's  Ode  to  a  Water  Nymph,  written  a 
year  or  two  after  his  aUmission  to  tho  university. 


Reflecting  to  tho  sun  bright  reoomponso 
For  every  beam  he  lends,  but  reads  thy  soul 
A  generous  lecture.     Not  a  pansy  pale, 
That  driuks  its  daily  nurture  from  that  rill. 
Rut  breathes  in  fragrant  accents  to  thy  soul. 
So,  by  thy  pity  cheered,  tho  languished  head 
Of  poverty  might  smile.'     Whoe'er  beheld 
Our  humble  train  forsake  their  native  vale 
To  elimb  tho  haughty  hill  ?     Ambition,  speak  ! 
Ho  blushes,  and  is  mute.     When  did  our  streams. 
By  force  unpent,  in  dull  stagnation  sleep '/ 
Let  Sloth  unfold  his  arms  and  tell  the  time. 
Or,  if  the  tyranny  of  Art  infringed 
Our  rights,  when  did  our  patient  floods  submit 
Witliuut  recoil  ?    Servility  retires. 
And  clinks  his  gilded  chain.     0,  learn  from  us. 
And  tell  it  to  thy  nation,  British  bard  ! 
Uncurbed  Ambition,  unresisting  Sloth, 
And  base  Dependence,  are  tho  fiends  accurst 
That  pull  down  mighty  empires.     If  they  scorn 
The  awful  truth,  be  thino  to  hold  it  dear. 
So,  through  tho  vale  of  life,  thy  flowing  hours 
Shall  glide  serene  ;  and,  like  Lineia's  rill. 
Their  free,  yet  not  licentious  course  fulfilled. 
Sink  in  the  Ocean  of  Eternity. 


BOOK    IV. 

BEOAPIT0LATION  J  SUBJECTS  OP  THE  PREVIOCS  BOOKS. 

Nor  yet,  divine  Simplicity,  withdraw 
That  aid  auspicious,  which,  in  Art's  domain. 
Already  has  reformed  whate'er  prevailed 
Of  foreign,  or  of  false  j  has  led  the  curve 
That  Nature  loves  through  all  her  sylvan  haunts  ; 
Has  stolen  tho  fence  unnoticed  that  arrests 
Her  vagrant  herds  ;  given  lustre  to  her  lawns, 
Gloom  to  her  groves,  and,  in  expanse  serene. 
Devolved  that  watery  mirror  at  her  foot. 
O'er  which  she  loves  to  bond  and  view  her  chax'ms. 

GRATITUDE  OF   ANIMALS  FOR  THE  CHANGES  MADE  BY  TASTE. 

And  toll  me,  thou,  whoe'er  hast  now-arranged 
By  her  chaste  rules  thy  garden,  if  thy  heart 
Fools  not  the  warm,  the  self-dilating  glow 
Of  true  benevolence  ?     Thy  flocks,  thy  herds. 
That  browse  luxurious  o'er  those  very  plots 
Which  once  were  barren,  bless  thoe  for  tho  change; 
The  birds  of  air  —  which  thy  funereal  yews 
Of  shape  uncouth,  and  leaden  sons  of  earth, 
Antffius  and  Enceladus,  with  clubs 
Uplifted,  long  had  frighted  from  tho  scene  — 
Now  pleased  return  ;   they  porch  on  every  spray, 
And  swell  their  little  throats,  and  warble  wild 
Their  vernal  minstrelsy  ;  to  Heaven  and  thee 
It  is  a  hymn  of  thanks  :  do  thou,  liko  Heaven, 
With  tutelary  care  reward  their  song. 

0RSAME.NT3    E)  LANDSCAPE  OARDKNINO ESDCRING  TASTE 

AND   EPUEUBBAL  FASHION. 

Erewhilo  the  muso,  industrious  to  combine 
Nature's  own  charms,  with  these  alono  adorned 


178 


RURAL    POETRY. 


The  Genius  of  the  scene  ;  but  other  gifts 

She  has  in  store,  which  gladly  now  she  brings, 

And  he  shall  proudly  wear.    Kuow,  when  she  broke 

The  spells  of  Fashion,  from  the  orumbliiig  wreck 

Of  her  enchantments  sagely  did  she  cull 

Those  relics  rich  of  old  Vitruvian  skill, 

With  what  the  sculptor's  hand  in  i-l.x-.ic  d.iys 

Made  breathe  in  brass  or  marhU'  ;  Hum  thu  hag 

Had  purloined,  and  disjio^td  in  l-'nlly';.  l.iiie  ; 

To  him  these  trophies  of  her  victory 

She  bears  ;  and  where  his  awful  nod  ordains 

Conspicuous  means  to  place.     He  shall  direct 

Her  dubious  judgment,  from  the  various  hoard 

Of  ornamental  treasures,  how  to  choose 

The  simplest  and  the  best  ;  on  these  his  seal 

Shall  stamp  great  Nature's  image  and  his  own, 

To  charm  for  unborn  ages.     Fling  the  rest 

Back  to  the  beldame,  bid  her  whirl  them  all 

In  her  vain  vortex,  lift  them  now  to-day. 

Now  plunge  in  night,  as,  through  the  humid  rack 

Of  April  cloud,  swift  flits  the  trembling  beam. 


But  precepts  tire,  and  this  fastidious  age 
Rejects  the  strain  didactic  :  try  we,  then, 
In  livelier  narrative  the  truths  to  veil 
AVe  dare  not  dictate.     Sons  of  Albion,  hear  ! 
The  tale  I  tell  is  full  of  strange  event. 
And  piteous  circumstance  ;  yet  deem  not  ye, 
If  names  I  feign,  that  therefore  facts  are  feigned  : 
Nor  hence  refuse  (what  most  augments  the  charm 
Of  storied  woe)  that  fond  credulity 
Which  binds  the  attentive  soul  in  closer  chains. 

At  manhood's  prime  Alcanders  duteous  tear 
Fell  on  his  father's  grave.     The  fair  domain, 
Which  then  became  his  ample  heritage. 
That  father  had  reformed  ;   each  line  destroyed 
Which  Belgic  dulness  planned  ;  and  Nature's  self 
Restored  to  all  the  rights  she  wished  to  claim. 


Crowning  a  gradual  hill  his  mansion  rose 
In  ancient  English  grandeur  :  turrets,  spires, 
And  windows,  climbing  high  from  base  to  roof 
In  wide  and  radiant  rows,  bespoke  its  birth 
Coeval  with  those  rich  cathedral  fanes 
(Gothic  ill-named)  where  harmony  results 
From  disunited  parts  ;   and  shapes  minute, 
At  once  distinct  and  blended,  boldly  form 
One  vast,  majestic  whole.     No  modern  art 
Had  marred  with  misplaced  symmetry  the  pile. 


Alcandor  held  it  sacred  :  on  a  height. 
Which  westering  to  its  site  the  front  surveyed, 
He  first  his  taste  employed  ;  fur  there  a  line 
Of  thinly-scattered  beech  too  tamely  broke 
The  blank  horizon.     '  Draw  we  round  yon  knoll,' 
Aloander  cried,  '  in  stately  Norman  mode, 
A  wall  embattled  ;  and  within  its  guard 


Let  every  structure  needful  for  a  farm 
Arise  in  castle-semblance  ;  the  huge  barn 
Shall  with  a  mock  portcullis  arm  the  gate, 
Where  Ceres  entering,  o'er  the  flail-proof  floor 
In  golden  triumph  rides  ;   some  tower  rotund 
Shall  to  the  pigeons  and  their  callow  young 
Safe  roost  afford  ;  and  every  buttress  broad. 
Whose  proud  projection  seems  a  mass  of  stone. 
Give  space  to  stall  the  heifer,  and  the  steed. 
So  shall  each  part,  though  turned  to  rural  use, 
Deceive  the  eye  with  those  bold  feudal  forms 
That  Fancy  loves  to  gaze  on.' 


This  achieved. 
Now  nearer  home  he  calls  returning  art 
To  hide  the  structure  rude  where  Winter  pounds 
In  conic  pit  his  congelations  hoar. 
That  Summer  may  his  tepid  beverage  cool 
With  the  chill  lu.\ury  ;   his  dairy,  too. 
There  stands  of  form  unsightly  :  both  to  veil, 
He  builds  of  old  disjointed  moss-grown  stone 
A  time-struck  abbey.     An  impending  grove 
Screens  it  behind  with  reverential  shade  ; 
While  bright  in  front  the  stream  reflecting  spreads, 
Which  winds  a  mimic  river  o'er  his  lawn. 
The  fane  conventual  there  is  dimly  seen. 
The  mitred  window,  and  the  cloister  pale, 
With  many  a  mouldering  column  ;    ivy  soon 
Round  the  rude  chinks  her  net  of  foliage  spreads  ; 
Its  verdant  meshes  seem  to  prop  the  wall. 


One  native  glory,  more  than  all  sublime, 
Alcander's  scene  possest  :  'T  was  Ocean's  self — 
He,  boisterous  king,  against  the  eastern  cliffs 
Dashed  his  white  foam  ;  a  verdant  vale  between 
Gave  splendid  ingress  to  his  world  of  waves. 
Slanting  this  vale  the  mound  of  that  clear  stream 
Lay  hid  in  shade,  which  slowly  laved  his  lawn  : 
But  there  set  free,  the  rill  resumed  its  pace. 
And  hurried  to  the  main.     The  dell  it  passed 
Was  rocky  and  retired  :  here  art  with  ease 
Might  lead  it  o'er  a  grot,  and,  filtered  there, 
Teach  it  to  sparkle  down  its  craggy  sides. 
And  fall  and  tinkle  on  its  pebbled  floor. 
Here  then  that  grot  he  builds,  and  conchs  with  spars, 
Most  petrified  with  branching  corallines. 
In  mingled  mode  arranges  :  all  found  here 
Propriety  of  place  ;  what  viewed  the  main 
Might  well  the  shelly  gifts  of  Thetis  bear. 
Not  so  the  inland  cave  :  with  richer  store      [yield 
Than  those  the  neighboring  mines  and  mountains 
To  hang  its  roof,  would  seem  incongruous  pride. 
And  fright  the  local  genius  from  the  scene. 

THE  SHIPWEBCK.  —  TBE  KESCnEn   MAmES. 

One  vernal  morn,  as  urging  hero  the  work 
Surrounded  by  his  hinds,  from  mild  to  cold 
The  season  changed,  from  cold  to  sudden  storm. 
From  storm  to  whirlwind.     To  the  angry  main 


SUMMER — JUNE. 


179 


Swiftly  he  turns,  and  sees  a  laden  ship 
Dismasted  by  its  rage.     '  Hie,  hie  wo  all,' 
Alcaudcr  cried,  '  quick  to  the  neighboring  beach.' 
They  flew  ;  they  came,  but  only  to  behold. 
Tremendous  sight !  the  vessel  dash  its  poop 
Amid  the  boiling  breakers.     Need  I  tell 
What  strenuous  arts  were  used,  when  all  were  used, 
To  save  the  sinking  crow?     One  tender  maid 
Alone  escaped,  saved  by  Alcandor's  arm. 
Who  boldly  swam  to  snatch  her  from  the  plank 
To  which  she  feebly  clung  ;  swiftly  to  shore, 
And  swifter  to  his  home,  the  youth  conveyed 
Uis  clay-cold  prize,  who  at  his  portal  first 
By  one  deep  sigh  a  sign  of  life  betrayed. 


A  maid  so  saved,  if  but  by  Nature  blessed 
With  common  charms,  had  soon  awaked  a  flamo 
iMoro  strong  than  pity,  in  that  melting  heart 
Which  pity  warmed  before.     But  she  was  fair 
As  poets  picture  Hebe,  or  the  Spring  ; 
Graceful  withal,  as  if  each  limb  were  cast 
In  that  ideal  mould  whence  Raphael  drew 
His  Galatea  : '  yes,  th'  impassioned  youth 
Felt  more  than  pity  when  he  viewed  her  charms. 
Yet  she  (ah,  strange  to  toll),  though  much  he  loved 
Suppressed  as  much  that  sympathetic  flame 
Which  love  like  his  should  kindle  :  Did  ho  kneel 
In  rapture  at  her  feet  ?  she  bowed  the  head. 
And  coldly  bade  him  rise  ;  or  did  he  plead. 
In  torma  of  purest  passion,  for  a  smile  ? 
She  gave  him  but  a  tear  :  his  manly  form. 
His  virtues,  ev'n  the  courage  that  preserved 
Her  life,  beseemed  no  sentiment  to  wake 
Warmer  than  gratitude  ;  and  yet  the  love 
Withheld  from  him  she  freely  gave  his  scenes  ; 
On  all  their  charms  a  just  applause  bestowed  ; 
And,  if  she  e'er  was  happy,  only  then  [played. 

When  wandering  where  those  charms  were  most  dis- 

As  thro'  a  neighb'ring  grove,  where  ancient  beech 
Their  awful  foliage  flung,  Alcander  led 
The  pensive  maid  along,  '  Tell  me,'  she  cried, 
'  Why,  on  these  forest  features  all  intent, 
Forbears  my  friend  some  scone  distinct  to  give 
To  Flora  and  her  fragrance '!     Well  I  know 
That  in  the  general  landscape's  broad  expanse 
Their  little  blooms  are  lost ;  but  here  are  glades, 
Circled  with  shade,  yet  pervious  to  the  sun. 
Where,  if  enamelled  with  their  rainbow  hues. 
The  eye  would  catch  their  splendor  :  turn  thy  tasto, 
Even  in  this  grassy  circle  where  we  stand. 
To  form  their  plots;  there  weave  a  woodbine  bower, 
And  call  that  bower  Nerina's.'     At  the  word 
Alcander  smiled  ;  his  fancy  instant  formed 
The  fragrant  scene  she  wished  ;  and  Love,  with  Art 
Uniting,  soon  produced  the  finished  whole. 

1  Raphael,  when  pnintini;  his  celebrated  Galatea,  tells 
Count  Castiglione,  in  a  letter,  that '  essendo  carwlla  dl  belle 
donne,  io  mi  servo  di  certa  idea  die  viene  alia  mente.' 


or  TBE  SITS  OF  Tun  VLOKAI,  BOWBK. 

Down  to  the  south  the  glade  by  Nature  leaned  ; 
Art  formed  the  slope  still  softer,  opening  there 
Its  foliage,  and  to  oaoh  Etesian  galo 
Admitlanco  free  dispensing  ;  thickest  shade 
Guarded  the  rest.  — His  taste  will  best  conceive 
The  new  arrangement,  whose  free  footsteps,  used 
To  forest  haunts,  have  pierced  their  opening  dells, 
Where  frequent  tufts  of  swoetbrier,  box,  or  thorn, 
Steal  on  the  green  sward,  but  admit  fair  space 
For  many  a  mossy  maze  to  wind  between. 
So  here  did  Art  arrange  her  flowery  groups 
Irregular,  yet  not  in  patches  quaint. 
But  interposed,  between  the  wandering  lines 
Of  shaven  turf  which  twisted  to  the  path  — 
Gravel,  or  sand,  that  in  as  wild  a  wave 
Stole  round  the  verdant  limits  of  the  scene  ; 
Leading  the  eye  to  many  a  sculptured  bust, 
On  shapely  pedestal,  of  sage,  or  bard. 
Bright  heirs  of  fame,  who,  living,  loved  tho  haunts 
So  fragrant,  so  sequestered.     Many  an  urn 
There  too  had  place,  with  votive  lay  inscribed 
To  Freedom,  Friendship,  Solitude,  or  Love. 

DESCRIPTION   OF   THE   BOWER  OF   FLORA.  —  A    CONSERVATORY 

And  now  each  flower  that  hoars   transplanting 
Or  blooms  indigenous,  adorned  the  scone  :  [change. 
Only  Nerina's  wish,  her  woodbine  bower. 
Remained  to  crown  tho  whole.     Here,  far  beyond 
That  humble  wish,  her  lover's  genius  formed 
A  glittering  fane,  whore  rare  and  alien  plants 
Might  safely  flourish  ;  where  the  citron  sweet. 
And  fragrant  orange,  rich  in  fruit  and  flowers. 
Might  hang  their  silver  stai-s,  their  golden  globes, 
On  tho  same  odorous  stem  :  yet  scorning  there 
The  glassy  penthouse  of  ignoble  form, 
High  on  Ionic  shafts  he  bade  it  tower 
A  proud  rotunda  ;  to  its  sides  conjoined 
Two  brood  piazzas  in  theatric  curve. 
Ending  in  equal  porticos  sublime. 
Glass  roofed  the  whole,  and  sidelong  to  the  south 
'Twixt  every  fluted  column  lightly  roared 
Its  wall  pellucid.     All  within  was  day, 
Was  genial  Summer's  day,  for  secret  stoves 
Through  all  tho  pile  solstitial  warmth  convoyed. 

Those  led  through  isles  of  fragrance  to  the  dome. 
Each  way  in  circling  quadrant.    That  bright  space 
Guarded  tho  spicy  tribes  from  Afrie's  shore, 
Or  Ind,  or  Araby,  Sabajan  plants 
Weeping  with  nard,  and  balsam. 

In  the  midst 
A  statue  stood,  the  work  of  Attic  art  ; 
ltd  thin  light  drapery,  cast  in  fluid  folds. 
Proclaimed  its  ancientry  ;   all  save  tho  head, 
Which  stole  (for  love  is  prono  to  gentlo  thefts) 
The  features  of  Nerina  ;  yet  that  head. 


So  perfect  in  resembla 

ISot 


<  tenderly  impassioned  ;  to  the  t 


180 


RURAL  POETRY. 


Which  Grecian  skill  had  formed,  so  aptly  joined, 
Phidias  himself  might  seem  to  have  inspired 
The  chisel,  bribed  to  do  the  amorous  fraud. 
One  graceful  hand  held  forth  a  flowery  wreath, 
The  other  pressed  her  zone  ;  while  round  the  base 
Dolphins,  and  Triton  shells,  and  plants  marine, 
Proclaimed  that  Venus,  rising  from  the  sea. 
Had  veiled  in  Flora's  modest  vest  her  charms. 


Such  was  the  fane,  and  such  the  deity 
Who  seemed,  with  smile  auspicious,  to  inhale 
That  incense  which  a  tributary  world, 
From  all  its  regions,  round  her  altar  breathed  : 
And  yet,  when  to  the  shrine  Alcander  led 
His  living  goddess,  only  with  a  sigh. 
And  starting  tear,  the  statue  and  the  dome 
Reluctantly  she  viewed.     And  '  why/  she  cried, 
'  Why  would  my  best  preserver  here  erect, 
With  all  the  fond  idolatry  of  love, 
A  wretch's  image  whom  his  pride  should  scorn 
(For  so  his  country  bids  him)  ?    Drive  me  hence, 
Transport  me  quick  to  Gallia's  hostile  shore, 
Hostile  to  thee,  yet  not,  alas  !  to  her, 
Who  there  was  meant  to  sojourn  :  there,  perchance. 
My  father,  wafted  by  more  prosperous  gales, 
Now  mourns  his  daughter  lost ;  my  brother  there 
Perhaps  now  soothes  that  venerable  ago        [chance 
He  should  not  soothe  alone.     Vain  thought!  per- 
Both  perished  at  Esupus  —  do  not  blush, 
It  was  imt  thiiu  tli;it  lir  the  ruthless  flame  ; 
It  was  iK't  tli'Mi,  fli;it,  like  remorseless  Cain, 
Thirsted  Inr  bintlni's  iiiund  :  thy  heart  disdains 
The  savage  imputation.     Rest  thee  there. 
And,  though  thou  pitiest,  yet  forbear  to  grace 
A  wretched  alien,  and  a  rebel  deemed, 
With  honors  ill-beseeming  her  to  claim. 
My  wish,  thou  know'st,  was  humble  as  my  state  ; 
I  only  begged  a  little  woodbine  bower. 
Where  I  might  sit  and  weep,  while  all  around 
The  lilies  and  the  blue-bells  hung  their  heads 
In  seeming  sympathy.'     'Does,  then,  the  scene 
Displease  ?  '  the  disappointed  lover  cried  ; 

*  Alas  !  too  much  it  pleases,'  sighed  the  fair  : 

*  Too  strongly  paints  the  passion  which  stern  fate 
Forbids  me  to  return.'     *  Dost  thou,  then,  love 
Some  happier  youth  ?  *  '  No,  tell  thy  generous  soul 
Indeed  I  do  not.'     More  she  would  have  said, 
But  gushing  grief  prevented.     From  the  fane 
Silent  he  led  her  ;  as  from  Eden's  bower 

The  sire  of  men  his  weeping  partner  led, 
Less  lovely,  and  less  innocent,  than  she. 

Yet  still  Alcander  hoped  what  last  she  sighed 
Spoke  more  than  gratitude  ;  the  war  might  end  ; 
Her  father  might  consent ;  for  that  alone 
Now  seemed  the  duteous  barrier  to  his  bliss. 
Already  had  he  sent  a  faithful  friend 
To  learn  if  France  the  reverend  exile  held  : 
That  friend  returned  not.     Meanwhile  every  sun 
Which  now  (a  year  elapsed)  diurnal  rose 


Beheld  her  still  more  pensive  ;  inward  pangs, 
From  grief's  concealment,  hourly  seemed  to  force 
Health  from  her  cheek,  and  quiet  from  her  soul. 
Alcander  mourned  the*  change,  yet  still  he  hoped  ; 
For  Love  to  Hope  his  flickering  taper  lends, 
When  Reason  with  his  steady  torch  retires  : 
Hence  did  he  try,  by  ever-varying  arts, 
And  scenes  of  novel  charm,  her  grief  to  calm. 

Nor  did  he  not  employ  the  siren  powers 
Of  Music  and  of  Song  ;  or  Painting,  thine. 
Sweet  source  of  pure  delight !     But  I  record 
Those  arts  alone  which  form  my  sylvan  theme. 


SWANS.— GCINBA-FOWL.— BANTAMS.— PEACOCKS.— RI-NG- 

At  stated  hours,  full  oft  had  he  observed, 
She  fed  with  welcome  grain  the  household  fowl 
That  trespassed  on  his  lawn  ;  this  waked  a  wish 
To  give  her  feathered  favorites  space  of  land, 
And  lake  appropriate  :  in  a  neighboring  copse 
He  planned  the  scene  ;  for  there  the  crystal  spring, 
That  formed  his  river,  from  a  rocky  cleft 
First  bubbling,  broke  to  day  ;  and  spreading  there 
Slept  on  its  rushes.     '  Here  my  delving  hinds,' 
He  cried,  *  shall  soon  the  marshy  soil  remove, 
And  spread,  in  brief  extent,  a  glittering  lake. 
Checkered  with  isles  of  verdure  ;  on  yon  rock 
A  sculptured  river-god  shall  rest  his  urn  ; 
And  through  that  urn  the  native  fountain  flow. 
Thy  wished-for  bower,  Nerina,  shall  adorn 
The  southern  bank  ;  the  downy  race,  that  swim 
The  lake,  or  pace  the  shore,  with  livelier  charms, 
Yet  no  less  rural,  here  will  meet  thy  glance, 
Than  flowers  inauimate.'     Full  soon  was  scooped 
The  watery  bed,  and  soon,  by  margin  green, 
And  rising  banks,  enclosed  ;  the  highest  gavo 
Site  to  a  rustic  fabric,  shelving  deep 
Within  the  thicket,  and  in  front  composed 
Of  three  unequal  arches,  lowly  all, 
The  surer  to  expel  the  noontide  glare, 
Yet  yielding  liberal  inlet  to  the  scene  ; 
Woodbine  with  jasmine  carelessly  entwined 
Concealed  the  needful  masonry,  and  hung 
In  free  festoons,  and  vested  all  the  cell. 
Hence  did  the  lake,  the  islands,  and  the  rock, 
A  living  landscape  spread  ;  the  feathered  fleet. 
Led  by  two  mantling  swans,  at  every  creek 
Now  touched,  and  now  unmoored  ;  now  on  full  sail, 
With  pennons  spread  and  oary  feet  they  plied 
Their  vagrant  voyage  ;  and  now,  as  if  becalmed, 
'Tween  shore  and  shore  at  anchor  seemed  to  sleep. 
Around  those  shores  the  fowl  that  fear  the  stream 
At  random  rove  :  hither  hot  Guinea  sends 
Her  gadding  troop  ;  here,  midst  his  speckled  dames, 
The  pigmy  Chanticleer  of  bantam  winds 
His  clarion  ;  while,  supreme  in  glittering  state. 
The  peacock  spreads  his  rainbow  train,  with  eyes 
Of  sapphire  bright,  irradiate  each  with  gold. 
Meanwhile  from  every  spray  the  ringdoves  coo, 


SUMMER  —  JUNE. 


181 


The  linnneta  warblo,  captive  none,i  but  lurod 
By  food  to  haunt  the  umbrage  :  all  the  glade 
Is  lire,  is  music,  liberty,  and  lore. 


THg  STRASCllR  T 


.I.CANDBR^S  OROHNDS.  — CONTKR- 


And  is  there  now  to  Pleasure  or  to  Use 
One  scene  devoted  in  the  wide  domain 
Its  master  has  not  polished  ?     Rumor  spreads 
Its  praises  far,  and  many  a  stranger  stops 
With  curious  eye  to  censure  or  admire- 
To  all  his  lawns  arc  pervious  ;  oft  himself 
With  courteous  greeting  will  the  critic  hail, 
And  join  him  in  the  circuit.     Give  we  here 
(If  Candor  will  with  patient  ear  attend) 
The  social  dialogue  Alcander  held 
With  one,  a  youth  of  mild  yet  manly  mien, 
Who  seemed  to  taste  the  beauties  ho  surveyed. 

'Little,  I  fear  me,  will  a  stranger's  eye 
Find  here  to  praise,  where  rich  Vitruvian  art 
Haa  reared  no  temples,  no  triumphal  arcs  ; 
Where  no  Palladian  bridges  span  the  stream. 
But  all  is  homebred  Fancy.'     •  For  that  cause. 
And  chiefly  that,'  the  polished  youth  replied, 
'  I  view  each  part  with  rapture.     Ornament, 
When  foreign  or  fantastic,  never  charmed 
My  judgment ;  here  I  tread  on  British  ground  ; 
With  British  annals  all  I  view  accords. 
Some  Yorkist,  or  Lancastrian  baron  bold, 
To  awe  his  vassals,  or  to  stem  his  foes, 
Yon  massy  bulwark  built ;  on  yonder  pile. 
In  ruin  beauteous,  I  distinctly  mark 
The  ruthless  traces  of  stern  Henry's  hand.' 


•Yet,'  cried  Alcander  (interrupting  mild 
The  stranger's  speech),  '  if  so,  yon  ancient  seat, 
Pride  of  my  ancestors,  had  mocked  repair. 
And  by  proportion's  Greek  or  Roman  laws 
That  pile  had  been  rebuilt,  thou  wouldst  not  then, 
I  trust,  have  blamed,  if  there  on  Doric  shafts 
A  temple  rose  ;  if  some  tall  obelisk 
O'ertopped  yon  grove,  or  bold  triumphal  arch 
Usurped  my  castle's  station.'  — '  Sparc  me  yet 
Yon  solemn  ruin,'  the  quick  youth  returned. 
'  No  mouldering  aqueduct,  no  yawning  crypt 
Sepulchral,  will  console  me  for  its  fate.' 

'  I  mean  not  that,'  the  master  of  the  scene 
Replied  ;  'though  classic  rules  to  modern  piles 
Should  give  the  just  arrangement,  shun  wo  here 
By  those  to  form  our  ruins  ;  much  we  own 
They  please,  when,  by  Panini's  pencil  drawn, 
Or  darkly  graved  by  Piranesi's  hand. 
And  fitly  might  some  Tuscan  garden  grace  ; 
But  Time's  rude  mace  has  hero  all  Roman  piles 
Levelled  so  low,  that  who  on  British  ground 
Attempts  the  task,  builds  but  a  splendid  lie. 
Which  mocks  historic  credence.     Hence  the  cause 


Why  Saxon  piles,  or  Norman,  hero  prevail  : 
Form  they  a  rude,  'tis  yet  an  English  whole.' 


'And  much  I  praise  thy  choice,'  the  stranger 
cried  ; 
■  Such  chaste  selection  shames  the  common  mode, 
Which,  mingling  structures  of  far-distant  times. 
Far-distant  regions,  here,  perchance,  erects 
A  fane  to  Freedom,  where  her  Brutus  stands 
In  act  to  strike  the  tyrant ;  there  a  tent. 
With  orescent  crowned,  with  soymitars  adorned, 
Meet  for  some  Bajazet ;   northward  we  turn. 
And  lo  r  a  pigmy  pyramid  pretends 
We  tread  the  realms  of  Pharaoh  ;  quickly  thence 
Our  =.Miti'.T!i  -t'M.  iToscnts  us  heaps  of  stone 
I!:iii      III  1'::    I'ir.-lo.     Thus  from  ago 


Iiii:t_  III  I  in  I' iiiiiii  r-;  headlong  on. 

Till,  like  fatigu.d  Villario,'  soon  we  find 

We  better  like  a  field.'    '  Nicely  thy  hand 

The  childish  landscape  touches,*  cried  his  host. 

'For  Fashion  ever  is  a  wayward  child  ; 

Yet  sure  wc  might  forgive  her  faults  like  these. 

If  but  in  separate  or  in  single  scenes 

She  thus  with  Fancy  wantoned  :  should  I  lead 

Thy  step,  my  friend  (for  our  accordant  tastes 

Prompt  me  to  give  thee  that  familiar  name), 

Behind  this  screen  of  elm.  thou  there  might'st  find 

I  too  had  idly  played  the  trn.^nt's  part, 

And  broke  the  bounds  of  judgment.' 


'  Lead  me  there,' 
Briskly  the  youth  returned,  '  for  having  proved 
Thy  epic  genius  hero,  why  not  peruse 
Thy  lighter  ode  or  eclogue?'    Smiling,  thence 
Alcander  led  him  to  the  woodbine  bower 
Which  last  our  song  described  ;  who,  seated  there, 
In  silent  transport  viewed  the  lively  scene. 

'  I  see,'  his  host  resumed,  '  my  sportive  art 
Finds  pardon  here  ;   not  e'en  yon  classic  form. 
Pouring  his  liquid  treasures  from  his  vase. 
Though  foreign  from  the  soil,  provokes  thy  frown. 
Try  we  thy  candor  further  :  higher  art, 
And  more  luxurious,  haply  too  more  vain, 
Adorns  yon  southern  coppice.'     On  they  pass 
Through  a  wild  thicket,  till  the  perfumed  air 
Gave  to  another  sense  its  prelude  rich 
On  what  the  eye  should  feast.     But  now  the  grove 
Expands  ;  and  now  the  rose,  the  garden's  queen, 
Amidst  her  blooming  subjects'  humbler  charms. 
On  every  plot  her  crimson  pomp  displays. 
'  0  paradise  ! '  the  entering  youth  exclaimed,  [balm, 
'  Groves  whose  rich  trees  weep  odorous  gums  and 
Others  whose  fruit,  burnished  with  golden  rind. 
Dang  amiable,  Hesperian  fables  true. 
If  true,  here  only.'    Thus,  in  Milton's  phrase 

1  See  Pope's  Epistle  lo  Lord  Burlington,  v.  88. 


182 


RURAL    POETRY. MASON. 


Sublime,  the  youth  his  admiration  poured, 
While  passing  to  the  dome  ;  his  next  short  step 
Unveiled  the  central  statue  :  '  Heavens  !  just  heav- 

He  cried,  '  't  is  my  Nerina.'     '  Thine,  mad  youth  ? 
Forego  the  word,'  Alcander  said,  and  paused  ; 
His     utterance     failed  ;     a    thousand    clustering 
And  all  of  blackest  omen  to  his  peace,     [thoughts, 
Recoiled  upon  his  brain,  deadened  all  sense. 
And  at  the  statue's  base  him  headlong  oast, 
A  lifeless  load  of  being.  —  Ye,  whose  hearts 
Are  ready  at  Humanity's  soft  call 
To  drop  the  tear,  I  charge  you  weep  not  yet. 
But  fearfully  suspend  the  bursting  woe  : 
Nerina's  self  appears  ;  the  further  aisle 
She,  fate-directed,  treads. 


Does  she  too  faint? 
Would  Heaven  she  could  !  it  were  a  happy  swoon 
Might  soften  her  fixed  form,  more  rigid  now 
Than  is  her  marble  semblance.     One  stiff  hand 
Lies  leaden  on  her  breast ;  the  other  raised    [eyes. 
To  heaven,  and  half-way  clenched  ;  steadfast  her 
Yet  viewless  ;  and  her  lips,  which  oped  to  shriek, 
Can  neither  shriek  nor  close.     So  might  she  stand 
Forever  :  he,  whose  sight  caused  the  dread  change. 
Though  now  he  clasps  her  in  his  anxious  arm, 
Fails  to  unbend  one  sinew  of  her  frame  ; 
'T  is  ice  ;   't  is  steel.     But  see,  Alcander  wakes  ; 
And  waking,  as  by  magic  sympathy, 
Nerina  whispers,  '  All  is  well,  my  friend  ; 

'T  was  but  a  vision  ;  I  may  yet  revive 

But  still  his  arm  supports  me  :  aid  him,  friend. 
And  bear  me  swiftly  to  my  woodbine  bower  ; 
For  there  indeed  I  wish  to  breathe  my  last.' 


So  saying,  her  cold  cheek  and  parched  brow 
Turned  to  a  livid  paleness  ;  her  dim  eyes 
Sunk  in  their  sockets  ;  shai-p  contraction  pressed 
Her  temples,  ears,  and  nostrils  :  signs  well  known 
To  those  that  tend  the  dying.     Both  the  youths 
Perceived  the  change  ;  and  had  stern  Death  him- 
self 
Waved  his  black  banner  visual  o'er  their  heads, 
It  could  not  more  appall.     With  trembling  step 
And  silent,  both  convoyed  her  to  the  bower. 

'  Her  languid  limbs  there  decently  composed. 
She  thus  her  speech  resumed  :  '  Attend  my  words, 
Brave  Cleon  !  dear  Alcander  !  generous  pair  : 
For  both  have  tender  interest  in  this  heart. 
Which  soon  shall  beat  no  more.     That  I  am  thine 
By  a  dear  father's  just  commands,  I  own, 
Much-honored  Cleon  !  take  the  hand  he  gave, 
And  with  it,  0,  if  I  could  give  my  heart, 
Thou  wert  its  worthy  owner.    All  I  can 
(And  that  preserved  with  chastest  fealty) 
Duteous  I  give  thee,  Cleon,  it  is  thine  ; 
Not  ev'n  this  dear  preserver  e'er  could  gain 


More  from  my  soul  than  friendship  —  that  be  his  : 
Yet  let  me  own,  what,  dying,  soothes  the  pang. 
That,  had  thyself  and  duty  ne'er  been  known, 
He  must  have  had  Hly  love.'     She  paused  ;   and 

A  silent  tear  ;  then  prest  the  stranger's  hand  ; 
Then  bowed  her  head  upon  Aloander's  breast. 
And  '  Bless  them  both,  kind  Heaven  ! '  she  prayed, 
and  died. 

CLEON  ASD  ALCANDER.  —  EXPLANATION.  —  CLEON  DEPARTS. 

'  And  blest  art  thou,'  cried  Cleon  (in  a  voice 
Struggling  with  grief  for  utterance),  '  blest  to  die 
Ere  thou  hadst  questioned  me,  and  I  perforce 
Had  told  a  tale  which  must  have  sent  thy  soul 
In  horror  from  thy  bosom.     Now  it  leaves 
A  smile  of  peace  upon  those  pallid  lips, 
That  speaks  its  parting  happy.     Go,  fair  saint ! 
Go  to  thy  palm-crowned  father  !  throned  in  bliss, 
And  seated  by  his  side,  thou  wilt  not  now 
Deplore  the  savage  stroke  that  sealed  his  doom  ; 
Go,  hymn  the  Fount  of  Mercy,  who,  from  ill 
Educing  good,  makes  ev'n  a  death  like  his, 
A  life  surcharged  with  tender  woes  like  thine. 
The  road  to  joys  eternal.     Maid,  farewell ! 
I  leave  the  casket  that  thy  virtues  held 
To  him  whose  breast  sustains  it  ;  more  beloved. 
Perhaps  more  worthy,  yet  not  loving  more 
Than  did  thy  wretched  Cleon.'     At  the  word 
He  bathed  in  tears  the  hand  she  dying  gave. 
Returned  it  to  her  side,  and  hasty  rose. 
Alcander,  starting  from  his  trance  of  grief. 
Cried,  '  Stay,  I  charge  thee  stay  ! '  '  And  shall  he 

stay,' 
Cleon  replied,  '  whose  presence  stabbed  thy  peace  ? 
Hear  this  before  we  part ;  That  breathless  maid 
Was  daughter  to  a  venerable  sage. 
Whom  Boston,  when  with  peace  and  safety  blest. 
In  rapture  heard  pour  from  his  hallowed  tongue 
Religion's  purest  dictates.     'Twas  my  chance. 
In  early  period  of  our  civil  broils, 
To  save  his  precious  life  :  and  hence  the  sire 
Did  to  my  love  his  daughter's  charms  consign  ; 
But,  till  the  war  should  cease,  if  ever  cease. 
Deferred  our  nuptials.     Whither  she  was  sent 
In  search  of  safety,  well,  I  trust,  thou  knoVst  ; 
He  meant  to  follow  ;  but  those  ruthless  flames, 
That  spared  nor  friend  nor  foe,  nor  sex  nor  age. 
Involved  the  village,  where  on  sickly  couch 
He  lay  confined,  and  whither  he  had  fied 
A  while  to  sojourn.     There  (I  see  thee  shrink) 
AVas  he  that  gave  Nerina  being  burnt ! 
Burnt  by  thy  countrymen  !  to  ashes  burnt ! 
Fraternal  hands  and  Christian  lit  the  flame.  — 
0  thou  hast  cause  to  shudder.     I  meanwhile 
With  his  brave  son  a  distant  warfare  waged  ; 
And  him,  now  I  have  found  the  prize  I  sought. 
And  finding  lost,  I  hasten  to  rejoin  ; 
Vengeance  and  glory  call  mo.'     At  the  word, 
Not  fiercer  does  the  tigress  quit  her  cave 


SUMMER  —  JUNE. 


To  soizo  tho  hinds  that  robbed  her  of  her  young, 
Than  he  tho  bower.     '  Stay,  I  conjure  thee,  stay,' 
Alcander  cried,  but  ore  tho  word  was  spoko 
Cleon  was  seen  no  more. 

ALCiSDER'S  SOLILOQCT  OVER  THE  CnRPSE  Of  SF.BlSi. 

'  Then  bo  it  so,' 
The  youth  continued,  clasping  to  his  heart 
The  beauteous  corse,  and  smiling  as  ho  spoko 
(Yet  such  a  smile  as  far  out-sorrows  tears), 
'  Xow  thou  art  mine  entirely  — Now  no  more 
Shall  duty  dare  disturb  us  —  Lovo  alone  — 
But  hark  !  he  comes  again  —  Away,  vain  fear  ! 
'Twas  but  the  fluttering  of  thy  feathered  flock. 
True  to  their  customed  hour,  behold  they  troop 
From  island,  grove,  and  lake.     Arise,  my  love, 
E.xtend  thy  hand  — I  lift  it,  but  it  falls  ; 
Hence,  then,  fond  fools,  and  pine  !    Nerina's  hand 
Has  lost  tho  power  to  feed  you.     Hence,  and  die.' 

Thus  plaining,  to  his  lips  the  icy  palm 
He  lifted,  and  with  ardent  passion  kissed  ; 
Then  cried,  in  agony,  '  On  this  dear  hand. 
Once  tremblingly  alive  to  Love's  soft  touch, 
I  hoped  to  seal  my  faith.'     This  thought  awaked 
Another  sad  soliloquy,  which  they 
Whoe'er  have  loved  will  from  their  hearts  supply. 
And  they  who  have  not  will  but  hear  and  smile. 

And  let  them  smile,  but  let  the  seorners  learn 
There  is  a  solemn  luxury  in  grief 
Which  they  shall  never  taste  ;  well  known  to  those. 
And  only  those,  in  Solitude's  deep  gloom 
Who  heave  the  sigh  sincerely  :    Fancy  there 
Waits  the  fit  moment ;  and,  when  Time  has  calmed 
The  first  o'erwhelming  tempest  of  their  woe. 
Piteous  she  steals  upon  the  mourner's  breast 
Her  precious  balm  to  shed  :    0,  it  has  power. 
Has  magic  power  to  soften  and  to  soothe. 
Thus  duly  ministered.     Alcander  felt 
The  charm,  yet  not  till  many  a  lingering  moon 
Had  hung  upon  her  zenith  o'er  his  couch. 
And  heard  his  midnight  wailings.     Docs  he  stray 
But  near  the  fated  temple,  or  the  bower  ? 
He  feels  a  chilly  monitor  within. 
Who  bids  him  pause.     Does  he  at  distance  view 
His  grot?  'tis  darkened  with  Nerina's  storm, 
Ev'n  at  the  blaze  of  noon. 

ALCANDER  CHOOSES  A  SPOT  EOK  NERIJIa'S  TOMB.  —  DESCRIP- 
TION  OF   THE   SCENE. 

Yet  there  are  walks 
The  lost  one  never  trod  ;  and  there  are  seats 
Where  he  was  never  happy  by  her  side. 
And  these  he  still  can  sigh  in.     Here  at  length. 
As  if  by  chance,  kind  Fancy  brought  her  aid, 
When  wandering  through  a  grove  of  sable  yew, 
Raised  by  his  ancestors  :  their  Sabbath-path 
Led  through  its  gloom,  what  time  too  dark  a  stole 
Was  o'er  Religion's  decent  features  drawn 
By  Puritanic  zeal.     Long  had  their  boughs 
Forgot  the  shears  ;  the  spire,  the  holy  ground 


They  banished  by  their  umbrage.  '  What  if  hero,' 
Cried  the  sweet  soother,  in  a  whisper  soft, 
'  Some  open  space  were  formed,  where  other  shades, 
Yet  all  of  solemn  sort,  cypress  and  bay, 
Funereal,  pensive  birch,  its  languid  arms 
That  droops,  with  waving  willows  deemed  to  weep. 
And  shivering  aspens,  mixt  their  varied  green  ; 
What  if  yon  trunk,  shorn  of  its  murky  crest. 
Revealed  the  sacred  fane  ? '     Alcander  heard 
The  charmer  ;  ev'ry  accent  seemed  his  own. 
So  much  they  touched  his  heart's  sad  unison. 
'  Yes,  yes,'  he  cried,  '  why  not  behold  it  all  ? 
That  bough  removed  shows  me  tho  very  vault 
Where  my  Nerina  sleeps,  and  whore,  when  Heaven 
In  pity  to  my  plaint  the  mandate  seals. 
My  dust  with  hers  shall  mingle. 

THE   Fl-NER.IL   CELL  ;   NERINA'S   BUST  ;   ORIEP   SOOTHED    BY 
THE   PRACTICE   OP   BENEFICENCE.  —  ASOELS. 

Now  his  hinds, 

I'iill.  ,1  t.i  thr  t;i-k.  their  willing  a.xes  wield  ; 

,I,,\  III!  1"    i  r,  ;i.  wiili'ss  of  the  cause, 

TIl.ii  mil  Ii  l"\i  I  I. .nl  his  sylvan  arts  resume. 

Aii'l  i.xi.  iiiiliiii  111,,  centre  of  the  gloom, 

A  -ii,,|  .,1  tivi-iiiu' n">ts  and  living  moss, 

\\  nil  HI  li.  '  iliiii  li'il.  with  wattled  osiers  lined, 

He  linN  thiiii  v:\i-'-  :  it  seemed  a  hermit's  cell  ; 

Yet  void  of  houv-glass,  skull,  and  maple  dish. 

Its  mimic  garniture  :  Aloander's  taste 

Disdains  to  trick  with  emblematic  toys 

The  place  where  he  and  Melancholy  mean 

To  fix  Nerina's  bust,  her  genuine  bust, 

The  model  of  the  marble.     There  he  hides. 

Close  as  a  miser's  gold,  the  sculptured  clay  ; 

And  but  at  early  morn  and  latest  eve 

Unlocks  the  simple  shrine,  and  heaves  a  sigh  ; 

Then  does  he  turn,  and  through  tho  glimmering 

Cast  a  long  glance  upon  her  house  of  death  ; 
Then  views  the  bust  again,  and  drops  a  tear. 

Is  this  idolatry,  ye  sage  ones,  say? 

Or,  if  ye  doubt,  go  view  the  numerous  train 

Of  poor  and  fatherless  his  care  consoles  ; 

The  sight  will  tell  thee,  ho  that  dries  their  tears 

Has  unseen  angels  hovering  o'er  his  head. 

Who  leave  their  heaven  to  see  him  shed  his  own. 

CONCLCSIOS.  —  BBIIISH    FREEDOM.  —  THE    PATRIOT    VIRTCES 

Here  close  we,  sweet  Simplicity  !  tho  tale. 
And  with  it  let  us  yield  to  youthful  bards 
Tliat  Dorian  reed  wc  but  awaked  to  voico 
When  Fancy  prompted,  and  when  Leisure  smuv,.  , 
Hopeless  of  general  praise,  and  well  repaid. 
If  they  of  classic  ear,  unpalled  by  rhyme, 
Whoinchangeful  pause  can  please,  and  numbers  free, 
Accept  our  song  with  candor.     They  perchance. 
Led  by  the  muse  to  solitude  and  shade. 
May  turn  that  art  we  sing  to  soothing  use, 
At  this  ill-omened  hour,  when  Rapine  rides 
In  titled  triumph  ;  when  Corruption  waves 


184 


RURAL    POETRY. MASON TUSSER. 


Her  banners  broadly  in  the  face  of  day, 
And  shows  the  indignant  world  the  host  of  slaves 
She  turns  from  Honor's  standard.     Patient  there, 
Yet  not  desponding,  shall  the  sons  of  Peace 
Await  the  day,  when,  smarting  with  his  wrongs, 
Old  England's  genius  wakes  ;  when  with  him  wakes 
That  plain  integrity,  contempt  of  gold, 
Disdain  of  slavery,  liberal  awe  of  rule, 


AVhich  fixed  the  rights  of  people,  peers,  and  prince, 

And  on  them  founded  the  majestic  pile 

Of  British  freedom  ;  t»ade  fair  Albion  rise 

The  scourge  of  tyrants  ;   sovereign  of  the  seas  ; 

And  arbitress  of  empires.     0  return. 

Ye  long-lost  train  of  virtues  !  swift  return 

To  save  — 't  is  Albion  prompts  your  poet's  prayer  — 

Her  throne,  her  altars,  and  her  laureate  bowers. 


ilwBStx's   ''linu's   fnshuitir])." 


Calm  weather  in  June, 


Forgotte 


;  the  li 


1  past, 


Wash  sheep  (for  the  better),  where  water  doth  run. 
And  let  him  go  cleanly  and  dry  in  the  sun  : 
Then  shear  him,  and  spare  not,  at  two  days  an  end; 
The  sooner,  the  better  his  corps  will  amend. 
Reward  not  thy  sheep,  when  ye  take  off  his  coat, 
With  twitches  and  patches  as  broad  as  a  groat  ; 
Let  not  such  ungentleness  happen  to  thine. 
Lest  fly  with  her  gentils  do  make  it  to  pine. 
Let  lambs  go  undipped  till  June  be  half  worn, 
The  better  the  fleeces  will  grow  to  be  shorn  : 
The  pye  will  discharge  thee  for  pulling  the  rest  ; 
The  lighter  the  sheep  is,  then  feedeth  it  best. 
If  meadow  be  forward,  be  mowing  of  some. 
But  mow  as  the  makers  may  well  overcome. 
Take  heed  to  the  weather,  the  wind,  and  the  sky, 
If  danger  approacheth,  then  cockapacc  cry. 
Plough  early  till  ten  o'clock,  then  to  thy  hay, 
In  ploughing  and  carting,  so  profit  ye  may. 
By  little  and  little  thus  doing  ye  win,  [in. 

That  plough  shall  not  hinder,  when  harvest  comes 
Provide  of  thine  own,  to  have  all  things  at  hand. 
Lest  work  and  the  workman,  unoccupied,  stand  : 
Love  seldom  to  borrow,  that  thinkest  to  save. 
For  he  that  once  lendeth  twice  looketh  to  have. 
Let  cart  be  well  searched,  without  and  within. 
Well  clouted  and  greased,  ere  hay-time  begin. 
The  hay  being  carried,  though  carter  had  sworn, 
Cart's  bottom,  well  boarded,  is  saving  of  corn. 
Good  husbands,  that  lay  to  save  all  things  upright. 
For  tumbrels  and  carts  have  a  shed  ready  dight  ; 
Where  under  the  hog  may  in  winter  lie  warm  ; 
To  stand  so  inclosed,  as  wind  do  no  harm. 
So  likewise  a  hovel  will  serve  for  a  room, 
To  stack  on  the  peason  when  harvest  shall  come  ; 
And  serve  thee  in  winter  moreover  than  that. 
To  shut  up  thy  porklings  thou  mindest  to  fat. 
Some  barn-room  have  little,  and  yard-room  as  much. 
Yet  corn  in  the  field  appertaineth  to  such  : 
Then  hovels  or  ricks  they  are  forced  to  make, 
Abroad  or  at  home,  for  necessity's  sake. 


Make  sucr  of  bread-corn  (of  all  other  grain), 
Lie  dry  and  well  looked  to,  for  mouse  and  for  rain; 
Though  fitches  and  pease,  and  such  other  as  they 
(For  pestering  too  much),  on  a  hovel  ye  lay. 

With  whins  or  with  furzes  thy  hovel  renew. 
For  turf  and  for  sedge,  for  to  bake  and  to  brew  ; 
For  charcoal  and  seaooal,  and  also  for  thack. 
For  tall-wood  and  billet,  as  yearly  ye  lack. 
What  husbandly  husbands,  except  they  be  fools, 
But  handsome  have  store-house,  for  trinkets  and 
And  all  in  good  order,  fast  locked  to  lie,       [tools? 
Whatever  is  needful,  to  find  by-and-by. 

Thy  houses  and  barns  would  be  looked  upon. 
And  all  things  amended,  ere  harvest  come  on  : 
Things  thus  set  in  order,  in  quiet  and  rest, 
Shall  further  thy  harvest  and  pleasure  thee  best. 

The  bushes  and  thorns,  with  the  shrubs  that  do  noy, 
In  woodsere  or  summer,  cut  down  to  destroy  : 
But  whereas  decay  to  the  tree  ye  will  none. 
For  danger  in  woodsere  let  hacking  alone. 

At  midsummer,  down  with  the  brambles  and  brakes, 
And,  after,  abroad,  with  thy  forks  and  thy  rakes. 
Set  mowers  a  mowing,  where  meadow  is  grown. 
The  longer  now  standing,  the  worse  to  be  mown. 

Now  down  with  the  grass  upon  headlands  about. 
That  groweth  in  shadow,  so  rank  and  so  stout  ; 
But  grass  upon  headlands  of  barley  and  pease, 
When  harvest  is  ended,  go  mow  if  ye  please. 

Such  muddy  deep  ditches,  and  pits  in  the  field, 
That  all  a  dry  summer  no  water  will  yield  ; 
By  fieing  and  casting  that  mud  upon  heaps. 
Commodities  many  the  husbandman  reaps. 
*  *  Ground  gravelly,  sandy,  and  mi.xed  with  clay. 
Is  naughty  for  hops,  any  manner  of  way  ; 
Or  if  it  be  mingled  with  rubbish  and  stone. 
For  dryness  and  barrenness  let  it  alone. 
Choose  soil  for  the  hop  of  the  rottenest  mould. 
Well  dunged  and  wrought,  as  a  garden-plot  should : 
Not  far  from  the  water  (but  not  overflown). 
This  lesson  well  noted  is  meet  to  be  known.   *  * 


'Ballah   for   4tuuc. 


THE  CHILDREN  IN  THE  WOOD. 

AN   ANCIENT   BALLAD. 

Now  ponder  well,  ye  parents  dear, 

The  words  which  I  shall  write  ; 
A  doleful  story  you  shall  hear 

In  time  brought  forth  to  light : 
A  gentleman  of  good  account 

In  Norfolk  lived  of  late. 
Whose  wealth  and  riches  did  surmount 

Most  men  of  his  estate. 

Sore  sick  he  was,  and  like  to  die, 

No  help  that  he  could  have  ; 
His  wife  by  him  as  sick  did  lie  ; 

And  both  possessed  one  grave. 
No  love  between  these  two  was  lost. 

Each  was  to  other  kind  ; 
In  love  they  lived,  in  love  they  died, 

And  left  two  babes  behind. 

The  one,  a  fine  and  pretty  boy. 

Not  passing  three  years  old  j 
Th'  other,  a  girl,  more  young  than  ho, 

And  made  in  beauty's  mould. 
The  father  left  his  little  son, 

As  plainly  doth  appear, 
When  ho  to  perfect  age  should  come  — 

Three  hundred  pounds  a  year. 

And  to  his  little  daughter  Jane, 

Five  hundred  pounds  in  gold. 
To  be  paid  down  on  marriage  day, 

Which  might  not  bo  controlled  : 
But  if  the  children  chanced  to  die. 

Ere  they  to  age  should  come, 
Their  uncle  should  possess  their  wealth  - 

For  so  the  will  did  run. 

Now,  brother,  said  the  dying  man. 

Look  on  my  children  dear. 
Be  good  unto  my  boy  and  girl. 

No  friends  else  have  I  here  : 
To  God  and  you  I  do  commend 

My  children  night  and  day  ; 
But  little  while,  bo  sure,  we  have 

Within  this  world  to  stay. 

You  must  be  father  and  mother  both. 

And  uncle,  all  in  one  ; 
God  knows  what  will  become  of  them. 

When  I  am  dead  and  gone. 


With  that  hcspakc  their  mother  dear, 

0  brother  kind,  quoth  she. 
You  are  the  man  must  bring  our  babes 

To  wealth  or  misery. 

And  if  you  keep  them  carefully, 

Then  God  will  you  reward  ; 
If  otherwise  you  seem  to  deal, 

God  will  your  deeds  regard. 
With  lips  as  cold  as  any  stone. 

She  kissed  her  children  small  : 
God  bless  you  both,  my  children  dear  : 

With  that  the  tears  did  fall. 

These  spcochos  then  their  brother  spoke 

T„tl,i-  -•"\  -I'l-    l^"■'■'•■■■ 
The  1,  .      '  _     ;    V    '       ijil'lren  dear, 


If  I  (1.1  \\  i"iiu'  \  "111  .liililren  dear, 
WliLii  y.iu  i.iv  hi  hi  in  grave  ! 

Their  parents  being  dead  and  gone, 

The  children  home  he  takes, 
And  brings  them  both  into  his  house, 

And  much  of  them  he  makes  ; 
He  had  not  kept  these  pretty  babes 

A  twelvemonth  and  a  day. 
When  for  their  wealth  he  did  devise 

To  make  them  both  away. 

He  bargained  with  two  ruffians  rude, 

Which  were  of  furious  mood, 
That  they  should  take  the  children  young. 

And  slay  them  in  a  wood. 
He  told  his  wife,  and  all  he  had. 

He  did  the  children  send 
To  bo  brought  up  to  London  fair. 

With  one  that  was  his  friend. 
Away  then  went  these  pretty  babes, 

Kcjoioing  at  that  tide, 
Rejoicing  with  a  merry  mind. 

They  should  on  cock-horse  ride  : 
They  prate  and  prattle  pleasantly, 

As  they  ride  on  the  way, 
To  those  that  should  their  butchers  be. 

And  work  their  lives'  decay. 

So  that  the  pretty  speech  they  had 
Made  murderers'  hearts  relent. 

And  they  that  undertook  the  deed 
Full  sore  they  did  repent : 


24 


RURAL   POETRY.  —  BARNARD. 


Yet  one  of  them,  more  hard  of  heart, 

Did  vow  to  do  his  charge, 
Because  the  wretch  that  hired  him 

Haxi  paid  him  very  large. 
The  other  would  not  agree  thereto. 

So  here  they  fell  at  strife  ; 
With  one  another  they  did  fight 

About  the  children'.'^  life  ; 
And  he  that  was  of  mildest  mood 

Did  slay  the  other  there, 
Within  an  unfrequented  wood, 

While  babes  did  quake  for  fear. 

He  took  the  children  by  the  hand, 

When  tears  stood  in  their  eye, 
And  bid  them  come  and  go  with  him, 

And  look  they  did  not  cry  ; 
And  two  long  miles  he  led  them  on. 

While  they  for  food  complain  : 
Stay  here,  quoth  he,  I'll  bring  you  bread, 

When  I  do  come  again. 

These  pretty  babes,  with  hand  in  hand. 

Went  wandering  up  and  down. 
But  never  more  they  saw  the  man 

Returning  from  the  town. 
Their  pretty  lips  with  blackberries 

Were  all  besmeared  and  dyed, 
And  when  they  saw  the  darksome  night, 

They  sat  them  down  and  cried. 

Thus  wandered  these  two  pretty  babes, 

Till  death  did  end  their  grief  ; 
In  one  another's  arms  they  died. 

As  babes  wanting  relief. 
No  burial  these  pretty  babes 

Of  any  man  receives, 
Till  Robin  Red-breast  painfully 

Did  cover  them  with  leaves. 

And  now  the  heavy  wrath  of  God 

Upon  their  uncle  fell  ; 
Yea,  fearful  fiends  did  haunt  his  house, 

His  conscience  felt  a  hell ; 
His  barns  were  fired,  his  goods  consumed. 

His  lands  were  barren  made, 
His  cattle  died  within  the  field, 

And  nothing  with  him  staid. 

And,  in  the  voyage  of  Portugal, 

Two  of  his  sons  did  die  ; 
And,  to  conclude,  himself  was  brought 

To  extreme  misery  ; 
He  pawned  and  mortgaged  all  his  land. 

Ere  seven  years  came  about  : 
And  now  at  length  this  wicked  act 

Did  by  this  means  come  out  : 

The  fellow  that  did  take  in  hand, 

These  children  for  to  kill, 
Was  for  a  robbery  judged  to  die. 

As  was  God's  blessed  will  ; 


Who  did  coHfess  the  very  truth, 

The  which  is  here  expressed  : 
Their  uncle  died,  while  he  for  debt 

In  prison  long  did  rest. 
All  you  that  be  executors  made, 

And  overseers  eke. 
Of  children  that  be  fatherless, 

And  infants  mild  and  meek  ; 
Take  you  example  by  this  thing, 

And  yield  to  each  his  right, 
Lest  God,  with  such  like  misery. 

Your  wicked  minds  requite. 


LADY  BARNARD'S  *'AULD  ROBIN  GRAY." 

When  the  sheep  are  in  the  fauld,  and  the  kye  at 
And  a'  the  warld  to  sleep  are  gane  ;  [hame, 

The  waes  o'  my  heart  fa'  in  showers  frae  my  ee 
When  my  gudeman  lies  sound  by  me. 
Young  Jamie  loo'd  me  weel,  and  socht  me  for  his 

But,  saving  a  eroun,  he  had  naething  else  beside  ; 
To  make  that  croun  a  pund,  young  Jamie  gaed  to  sea ; 
And  the  croun  and  the  pund  were  baith  for  me. 
He  hadna  been  awa  a  week  but  only  twa,       [awa  ; 
When  my  mother  she  fell  sick,  and  the  cow  was  stown 
My  father  brak  his  arm,  and  young  Jamie  at  the  sea. 
And  Auld  Robin  Gray  cam'  a-courtin'  me. 
My  father  couldna  wark,  and  my  mother  couldna 

spin  ;  [win  ; 

I  toiled  day  and  nicht,  but  their  bread  I  couldna 
Auld  Rob  maintained  them  baith,  and,  wi'  tears  in 

his  ee. 
Said,  Jennie,  for  their  sakes,  0,  marry  me  ! 
My  heart  it  said  nay,  for  I  looked  for  Jamie  back  ; 
But  the  wind  it  blew  high,  and  the  ship  it  was  a 

The  ship  it  was  a  wrack  —  why  didna  Jamie  dee  ? 
Or  why  do  I  live  to  say,  Wae  's  me  ? 
My  father  argued  sair  ;  my  mother  didna  speak  ; 
But  she  lookit  in  my  face  till  my  heart  was  like  to 
break  :  [in  the  sea, 

Sae  they  gied  him  my  hand,  though  my  heart  was 
And  Auld  Robin  Gray  was  gudeman  to  me. 
I  hadna  been  a  wife  a  week  but  only  four, 
When  sitting  sae  mournfully  at  the  door, 
I  saw  my  Jamie's  wraith,  for  I  couldna  think  it  he. 
Till  he  said,  '  I  *m  come  back  for  to  marry  thee.' 
0,  sair  did  we  greet,  and  muckle  did  we  say  ; 
We  took  but  ae  kiss,  and  we  tore  ourselves  away  : 


were  dead  !  but  ] 


[ike  to  dee  ; 


And  why  do  I  live  to 


I  gang  like  a  ghaist,  and  I  carena  to  spir 
I  daurna  think  on  Jamie,  for  that  would 
But  I  '11  do  my  best  a  gude  wife  to  be. 
For  Auld  Robin  Gray  is  so  kind  to  me. 


^'nttcltou's   "Ijvotirfss   of    ii'olic. 


UXCERTALNTY. 


Pope  !  to  whose  reed,  beneath  the  beechen  shade 
The  nymph  of  Thames  a  pleased  attention  paid, 
While  yet  thy  muse,  content  with  humbler  praise, 
Warbled  in  Windsor's  grove  her  sylvan  lays, 
Though  now,  sublimely  borne  on  Homer's  wing, 
Of  glorious  wars  and  godlike  chiefs  she  sing. 
Wilt  thou  with  mo  revisit  once  again 
The  crystal  fountain  and  the  flowery  plain  ? 
Wilt  thou  indulgent  hear  my  verse  relate 
The  various  changes  of  a  lover's  state. 
And  while  each  turn  of  passion  I  pursue, 
Ask  thy  own  heart  if  what  I  toll  be  true  7 

To  the  green  margin  of  a  lonely  wood, 
Whose  pendent  shades  o'erlooked  a  silver  flood, 
Young  Damon  came,  unknowing  where  he  strayed, 
Full  of  the  image  of  the  beauteous  maid. 
His  flock  far  off  unfed,  untended  lay. 
To  every  savage  a  defenceless  prey  ; 
No  sense  of  interest  could  their  miister  move, 
And  every  care  seemed  trifling  now  but  love  : 
A  while  in  pensive  silence  he  remained,    [plained  ; 
But,  though  his  voice  was  mute,  his  looks  oom- 
At  length  the  thoughts  within  his  bosom  pent 
Forced  his  unwilling  tongue  to  give  them  vent. 

•  Ye  nymphs  ! '  he  cried,  '  ye  Dryads  !  who  so  long 
Have  favored  Damon,  and  inspired  his  song  ; 
For  whom,  retired,  I  shun  the  gay  resorts 
Of  sportful  cities  and  of  pompous  courts  ; 
In  vain  I  bid  the  restless  world  adieu. 
To  seek  tranquillity  and  peace  with  you. 
Though  wild  Ambition  and  destructive  Rage 
No  factions  hero  can  form,  no  wars  can  wage 
Though  Envy  frowns  not  on  your  humble  shades. 
Nor  Calumny  your  innocence  inva<les. 
Yet  cruel  Love,  that  troublcr  of  the  breast, 
Too  often  violates  your  boasted  rest ; 
With  inbred  storms  disturbs  your  calm  retreat. 
And  taints  with  bitterness  each  rural  sweet. 

'  Ah,  luckless  day  !  when  first  with  fond  surprise 
On  Delia's  face  I  fi.xed  my  eager  eyes  ; 
Then  in  wild  tumults  all  my  soul  was  tost. 
Then  reason,  liberty,  at  once  were  lost. 
And  every  wish,  and  thought,  and  care,  was  gone. 
But  what  my  heart  employed  on  her  alone. 
Then  too  she  sniilcil  ;  can  smiles  our  peace  destroy. 
Those  lovely  children  of  Content  and  Joy  7 
How  can  soft  pica.'iure  and  tormenting  woo 
From  the  same  spring  at  the  same  moment  flow  7 
Unhappy  boy  !  these  vain  inquiries  cease. 


Thought  could  not  guard  nor  will  restore  thy  peace ; 

Indulge  the  frenzy  that  thou  must  endure. 

And  soothe  the  pain  thou  know'st  not  how  to  cure. 

Come,  flattering  iMemory  !  and  tell  my  heart 

How  kind  she  was,  and  with  what  pleasing  art 

She  strove  its  fondest  wishes  to  obtain, 

Confirm  her  power,  and  faster  bind  my  chain. 

If  on  the  green  we  danced  a  mirthful  band. 

To  me  alone  she  gave  her  willing  hand  ; 

Her  partial  taste,  if  e'er  I  touched  tlie  lyre. 

Still  in  my  song  found  something  to  admire  ; 

By  none  but  her  my  crook  with  flowers  was  crowned, 

By  none  but  her  my  brows  with  ivy  bound  ; 

The  world  that  Damon  was  her  choice  believed, 

The  world,  alas  !  like  Damon  was  deceived. ' 

When  last  I  saw  her,  and  declared  my  fire 

In  words  as  soft  as  passion  could  inspire. 

Coldly  she  heard,  and  full  of  scorn  withdrew. 

Without  one  pitjnng  glance,  one  sweet  adieu. 

The  frighted  hind,  who  sees  his  ripened  com 

Up  from  the  roots  by  sudden  tempest  torn, 

Whose  fairest  hopes  destroyed  and  blasted  lie. 

Feels  not  so  keen  a  pang  of  grief  as  I. 

Ah  !  how  have  I  deserved,  inhuman  maid  ! 

To  have  my  faithful  service  thus  repaid  7 

Were  all  the  marks  of  kindness  I  received 

But  dreams  of  joy  that  charmed  me  and  deceived  7 

Or  did  you  only  nurse  my  growing  love 

That  with  more  pain  I  might  your  hatred  prove  7 

Sure  guilty  treachery  no  place  could  find 

In  such  a  gentle,  such  a  generous  mind  ; 

A  maid  brought  up  the  woods  and  wilds  among, 

Could  ne'er  have  learnt  the  arts  of  courts  so  young  : 

No  ;  let  me  rather  think  her  anger  feigned, 

Still  lot  mo  hope  my  Delia  may  be  gained  ; 

'T  was  only  modesty  that  seemed  disdain, 

And  her  heart  sufibrcd  when  she  gave  mo  pain. 

Pleased  with  this  fluttering  thought,  the  luve-siok 
Felt  the  faint  dawning  of  a  doubtful  joy.  [boy 

Back  to  his  flock  most  cheerful  he  returned, 
When  now  the  setting  sun  more  fiercely  burned, 
Blue  vapors  rose  along  the  mazy  rills, 
And  light's  last  blushes  tinged  the  distant  hills. 


HOPE. 
ECLOODE    II. 
Hear,  Doddington  !  the  notes  that  shepherds  sing, 
Like  those  that  warbling  hail  the  genial  Spring  : 
Nor  Pan  nor  Phrebus  tunes  our  artless  reeds. 
From  Love  alone  their  melody  proceeds  ; 


188 


RURAL  POETRY. LYTTELTON. 


From  LoTe,  Theocritus,  on  Enna's  plains, 
Learnt  the  wild  sweetness  of  his  Doric  strains  ; 
Young  Maro,  touched  by  his  insjiiring  dart, 
Could  charm  each  ear,  and  soften  every  heart  ; 
Me  too  his  power  has  reached,  and  bids  with  thine 
My  rustic  pipe  in  pleasing  concert  join. 

Damon  no  longer  sought  the  silent  shade. 
No  more  in  unfrequented  paths  he  strayed. 
But  called  the  swains  to  hear  his  jocund  song. 
And  told  his  joy  to  all  the  rural  throng. 

'  Blest  be  the  hour,'  he  said,  '  that  happy  hour. 
When  first  I  owned  my  Delia's  gentle  power  ! 
Then  gloomy  discontent  and  pining  care 
Forsook  my  breast,  and  left  soft  wishes  there  ; 
Soft  wishes  there  they  left  and  gay  desires, 
Delightful  languors  and  transporting  fires. 
Where  yonder  limes  combine  to  form  a  shade. 
These  eyes  first  gazed  upon  the  charming  maid  ; 
There  she  appeared  on  that  auspicious  day 
When  swains  their  sportive  rites  to  Bacchus  pay  : 
She  led  the  dance  —  Heavens  !  with  what  grace  she 

moved  ! 
Who  could  have  seen  her  then  and  not  have  loved  ? 
I  strove  not  to  resist  so  sweet  a  fiame. 
But  gloried  in  a  happy  captive's  name  ; 
Nor  would  I  now,  could  Love  permit,  be  free. 
But  leave  to  brutes  their  savage  liberty. 

'And  art  thou,  then,  fond  youth  !  secure  of  joy? 
Can  no  reverse  thy  flattering  bliss  destroy  1 
Has  treacherous  Love  no  torment  yet  in  store? 
Or  hast  thou  never  proved  his  fatal  power  ? 
Whence  flowed  those  tears  tliat  late  bedewed  thy 

cheek  ? 
Why  sighed  thy  heart  as  if  it  strove  to  break  ? 
Why  were  the  desert  rocks  invoked  to  hear 
The  plaintive  accent  of  thy  sad  despair  ? 
From  Delia's  rigor  all  those  pains  arose, 
Delia  !  who  now  compassionates  my  woes. 
Who  bids  me  hope,  and  in  that  charming  word 
Has  peace  and  transport  to  my  soul  restored. 

'  Begin,  my  pipe  !  begin  the  gladsome  lay  ; 
A  kiss  from  Delia  shall  thy  music  pay, 
A  kiss  obtained  'twixt  struggling  and  consent. 
Given  with  forced  anger  and  disguised  content. 
No  laureate  wreaths  I  ask  to  bind  my  brows 
Such  as  the  muse  on  lofty  bards  bestows  ; 
Let  other  swains  to  praise  or  fame  aspire, 
I  from  her  lips  my  recompense  require. 

'  Why  stays  my  Delia  in  her  secret  bower? 
Light  gales  have  chased  the  late  impending  shower, 
Th'  emerging  sun  more  bright  his  beams  extends. 
Opposed  its  beauteous  arch  the  rainbow  bends. 
Glad  youths  and  maidens  turn  the  new-made  hay. 
The  birds  renew  their  songs  on  every  spray  ; 
Come  forth,  my  love  !  thy  shepherd's  joys  to  crown: 
All  nature  smiles  —  will  only  Delia  frown  ? 

'  Hark  how  the  bees  with  murmurs  fill  the  plain, 
While  every  flower  of  every  sweet  they  drain  : 
See  how  beneath  yon  hillock's  shady  steep 
The  sheltered  herds  on  flowery  couches  sleep  : 


Nor  bees  nor  herds  are  half  so  blest  as  I, 
If  with  my  fond  desires  my  love  comply  ; 
From  Delia's  lips  a  sweeter  honey  flows. 
And  on  her  bosom  dVpells  more  soft  repose. 

'  Ah  how,  my  dear  !  shall  I  deserve  thy  charms  ? 
What  gift  can  bribe  thee  to  my  longing  arms  ? 
A  bird  for  thee  in  silken  bands  I  hold. 
Whose  yellow  plumage  shines  like  polished  gold  ; 
From  distant  isles  the  lovely  stranger  came. 
And  bears  the  fortunate  Canaries'  name  ; 
In  all  our  woods  none  boast  so  sweet  a  note, 
Not  e'en  the  nightingale's  melodious  throat ; 
Accept  of  this,  and  could  I  add  beside 
What  wealth  the  rich  Peruvian  mountains  hide. 
If  all  the  gems  in  Eastern  rocks  were  mine, 
On  thee  alone  their  glittering  pride  should  shine  : 
But  if  thy  mind  no  gifts  have  power  to  move, 
Phcebus  himself  shall  leave  the  .Ionian  grove  ; 
The  tuneful  nine,  who  never  sue  in  vain. 
Shall  come  sweet  suppliants  for  their  favorite  swain: 
For  him  each  blue-eyed  Naiad  of  the  flood. 
For  him  each  green-haired  sister  of  the  wood. 
Whom  oft  beneath  fair  Cynthia's  gentle  ray 
His  music  calls  to  dance  the  night  away. 
And  you,  fair  nymphs  !  companions  of  my  love. 
With  whom  she  joys  the  cowslip  meads  to  rove, 
I  bog  you  recommend  ray  faithful  flame, 
And  let  her  often  hear  her  shepherd's  name  : 
Shade  all  my  faults  from  her  inquiring  sight, 
And  show  my  merits  in  the  fairest  light ; 
My  pipe  your  kind  assistance  shall  repay. 
And  every  friend  shall  claim  a  diiferent  lay. 

'  But  see  !  in  yonder  glade  the  heavenly  fair 
Enjoys  the  fragrance  of  the  breezy  air. 
Ah  !  thither  let  me  fly  with  eager  feet : 
Adieu,  my  pipe  !  I  go  my  love  to  meet. 
0  may  I  find  her  as  we  parted  last, 
And  may  each  future  hour  be  like  the  past ! 
So  shall  the  whitest  lamb  these  pastures  feed. 
Propitious  Venus  !  on  thy  altars  bleed.' 


ECLOGUE    III. 

The  gods,  0  Walpole  !  give  no  bliss  sincere  ; 
Wealth  is  disturbed  by  care,  and  power  by  fear. 
Of  all  the  passions  that  employ  the  mind. 
In  gentle  love  the  sweetest  joys  we  find  : 
Yet  e'en  those  joys  dire  Jealousy  molests. 
And  blackens  each  fair  image  in  our  breasts. 
0  may  the  warmth  of  thy  too  tender  heart 
Ne'er  feel  the  sharpness  of  his  venomed  dart ! 
For  thy  own  quiet  think  thy  mistress  just. 
And  wisely  take  thy  happiness  on  trust. 

Begin,  my  Muse  !  and  Damon's  woes  rehearse 
In  wildest  numbers  and  disordered  verse. 

On  a  romantic  mountain's  airy  head  — 
While  browsing  goats  at  ease  around  him  fed  — 


SUMMER  —  JUNE. 


189 


Anxious  ho  lay,  with  jealous  cares  opprcst, 
Distrust  and  anger  laboring  in  his  breast :  — 
The  valo  beneath  a  pleasing  prospect  yields 
Of  verdant  meads  and  cultivated  fields  ; 
Through  these  a  river  rolls  its  winding  flood, 
Adorned  with  various  tufts  of  rising  wood  ; 
Hero  half  concealed  in  trees  a  cottage  stands, 
A  castle  there  the  opening  plain  commands  ; 
Beyond,  a  town  with  glittering  spires  is  crowned, 
And  distant  hills  the  wide  horizon  bound. 
So  charming  was  the  scene,  a  while  the  swain 
Behold  delighted,  and  forgot  his  pain  ; 
But  soon  the  stings  infixed  within  his  heart 
With  cruel  force  renewed  their  raging  smart : 
Ills  flowery  wreath,  which  long  with  pride  ho  wore, 
The  gift  of  Delia,  from  his  brows  he  tore, 
Then  cried  :  '  May  all  thy  charms,  ungrateful  maid  ! 
Liko  these  neglected  roses  droop  and  fade  ! 
May  angry  Heaven  deform  each  guilty  grace 
That  triumphs  now  in  that  deluding  face  ! 
Those  altered  looks  may  every  shepherd  fly, 
And  oi-'n  thy  Daphnis  hate  thee  worse  than  I  ! 

'  Say,  thou  inconstant !  what  has  Damon  douo 
To  lose  the  heart  his  tedious  pains  had  won? 
Toll  me  what  charms  you  in  my  rival  find, 
Against  whose  power  no  ties  have  strength  to  bind  / 
Has  he,  like  me,  with  long  obedience  strove 
To  conquer  your  disdain,  and  merit  love  ? 
Has  he  with  transport  every  smile  adored, 
And  died  with  grief  at  each  ungentle  word  ? 
Ah,  no  !  the  conquest  was  obtained  with  case  ; 
He  pleased  you  by  not  studying  to  please  j 
His  careless  indolence  your  pride  alarmed. 
And  had  ho  loved  you  more,  ho  less  had  charmed. 

'  0  pain  to  think  another  shall  possess 
Those  balmy  lips  which  I  was  wont  to  press  ! 
Another  on  her  panting  breast  shall  lie, 
And  catch  sweet  madness  from  her  swinmiing  eye  ! 
I  saw  their  friendly  flocks  tugotlier  feed, 
I  saw  them  hand  in  hand  walk  o'er  the  mead  ; 
Would  my  closed  eye  had  stnik  in  endless  night 
Ero  I  was  doomed  to  bear  that  hateful  sight ! 
Where'er  they  passed  be  blasted  every  flower, 
And  hungry  wolves  their  helpless  flooks  devour  !  — 
Ah,  wretched  swain  !  could  no  examples  move 
Thy  heedless  heart  to  shun  tho  rage  of  love  ? 
Hast  thou  not  heard  how  poor  Menalcas  *  died 
A  victim  to  Parthenia's  fatal  pride  ? 
Dear  was  the  youth  to  all  the  tuneful  plain, 
Loved  by  the  nymphs,  by  Phoibus  loved,  in  vain  ; 
Around  his  tomb  their  tears  tho  Muses  paid, 
And  all  things  mourned  but  tho  relentless  maid. 
Would  I  could  die  like  him,  and  bo  at  peace  ; 
These  torments  in  the  quiet  grave  would  oease  ; 
There  my  vexed  thoughts  a  oalm  repose  would  fiud. 
And  rest  as  if  my  Delia  still  were  kind. 
No  ;  let  mo  live  her  falsehood  to  upbraid  ; 
Some  god  perhaps  my  just  revenge  will  aid.  — 

1  See  Mr.  Oay'a  '  Dione.' 


Alas  !  what  aid,  fond  swain  !  would  thou  receive? 
Could  thy  heart  bear  to  see  its  Delia  grieve  ? 
Protect  her.  Heaven  !  and  let  lior  never  know 
Tho  slightest  part  of  hapless  Damon's  woo  : 
I  ask  no  vengeance  from  the  powers  above. 
All  I  implore  is  never  more  to  love.  — 
Let  mo  this  fondness  from  my  bosom  tear. 
Let  mo  forget  that  e'er  I  thought  her  fair. 
Come,  cool  ludiflerenco  !  and  heal  my  breast ; 
Wearied,  at  length  I  seek  thy  downy  rest : 
No  turbulence  of  passion  shall  destroy 
My  future  easo  with  flattering  hopes  of  joy. 
Hear,  mighty  Pan  !  and  all  ye  Sylvans  !  hear 
What  by  your  guardian  deities  I  swear  ; 
No  more  my  eyes  shall  view  her  fatal  charms. 
No  more  I  '11  court  the  traitress  to  my  arms  ; 
Not  all  her  arts  my  steady  soul  shall  move, 
And  she  shall  fiud  that  Reason  conquers  Love  !  ' 

Scarce  had  ho  spoke  when  through  the  lawn  below 
Alone  he  saw  the  beauteous  Delia  go  ; 
At  i'lir..  tr:iii-|ini  I'll  In-  forgot  his  vow  — 

Sufli  |irii -  rli.    liiii-hing  gods  allow  !  — 

Down  iIm     t..|.liill    uiih  ardent  haste  he  flew  : 
Ho  found  li'ji-  kiu.l,  .iud  soon  believed  her  true. 


POSSESSION. 
ECLOGUE   IV. 

Cobham  !  to  thee  this  rural  lay  I  bring, 
Whose  guiding  judgment  gives  me  skill  to  sing. 
Though  far  unequal  to  those  polished  strains 
With  which  thy  Congrevo   charmed  tho   list'ning 

Yet  shall  its  music  please  thy  partial  ear,  [dear, 
And  soothe  thy  breast  with  thoughts  that  once  were 
Recall  those  years  which  Time  has  thrown  behind, 
When  smiling  Love  with  Honor  shared  thy  mind.  *  * 
The  sweet  remembrance  shall  thy  youth  restore. 
Fancy  again  shall  run  past  pleasures  o'er. 
And  while  in  Stowe's  enchanting  walks  you  stray. 
This  theme  may  help  to  cheat  the  Summer's  day. 

Beneath  the  eovert  of  a  myrtle  wood. 
To  Venus  raised,  a  rustic  altar  stood  — 
.To  Venus  and  to  Hymen,  thero  combined 
In  friendly  league  to  favor  human  kind. 
With  wanton  Cupids  in  that  happy  shade 
The  gentle  Virtues  and  mild  Wisdom  played  ; 
Nor  there,  in  sprightly  Pleasure's  genial  train, 
Lurked  sick  Disgust  or  late<ropenting  Pain, 
Nor  force  nor  Interest  joined  unwilling  hands, 
But  Love  consenting  tied  tho  blissful  bands. 
Thither  with  glad  devotion  Damon  came. 
To  thank  the  powers  who  blest  his  faithful  flame  ; 
Two  milk-white  doves  he  on  their  altar  laid, 
And  thus  to  both  his  grateful  homage  paid  : 
'  Hail,  bounteous  God  !  boforo  whoso  hallow'd  shrine 
My  Delia  vowed  to  bo  forever  mine. 
While,  glowing  in  her  ohooka,  with  tondor  love 
Sweet  virgin  modesty  reluctant  strove  ; 


190 


RUKAL   PORTRT. 


And  hail  to  thee,  fair  queen  of  young  desires  ! 
Long  shall  my  heart  preserve  thy  pleasing  fires, 
Since  Delia  now  can  all  its  warmth  return.i 

'  What  are  ye  now,  my  once  most  valued  joys  ? 
Insipid  trifles  all,  and  childish  toys.  — 
Friendship  itself  ne'er  knew  a  charm  like  this. 
Nor  Colin's  talk  could  please  like  Delia's  kiss. 

'  Ye  Muses,  skilled  in  every  winning  art. 
Teach  me  more  deeply  to  engage  her  heart  : 
Ye  Nymphs  !  to  her  your  freshest  roses  bring, 
And  crown  her  with  the  pride  of  all  the  spring 
On  all  her  days  let  health  and  peace  attend  ; 
May  she  ne'er  want  nor  ever  lose  a  friend  ! 
May  some  new  pleasure  every  hour  employ, 
But  lot  her  Damon  be  her  highest  joy  ! 

'  With  thee,  my  love  !  forever  will  I  stay. 
All  night  caress  thee,  and  admire  all  day  ; 

1  Thirteen  lines  are  here  omitted,  as  being  too  warn, 
modern  taste— in  print;  also  two  lines  m  the  addres 
Cobham,  to  the  previous  column,  tor  the  same  reason.  ■ 


To  the  same  spring 
Together  will  we  si 

Tngvtlirr  |,n.--  il,.' 


ngled  flocks  we  '11  feed, 


Love  combin 


To  1m. I 
Here  1: 
Here  rising 


I    n  I  1 1  uiigh  flowery  meads, 
It  their  verdant  heads, 
Here  let  me  wear  my  careless  life  away, 
And  in  thy  arms  insensibly  decay. 

'  When  late  old  age  our  heads  shall  silver  o'er. 
And  our  slow  pulses  dance  with  joy  no  more. 
When  Time  no  longer  will  thy  beauties  sppre. 
And  only  Damon's  eye  shall  think  thee  fair, 
Then  may  the  gentle  hand  of  welcome  death 
At  one  soft  stroke  deprive  us  both  of  breath  ! 
May  we  beneath  one  common  stone  be  laid, 
And  the  same  .vinx^s  lK,th  ..ur  ashes  shade  ! 
Perhaps  some  m.^i.^llv  M»-  in  tender  verse 
Shall  deign  .u.i  l;ntl,inl  ],:,^-,..n  to  rehearse. 
And  future  agf.~,  uilli  ju-t  '-iny  moved, 
Be  told  how  Damon  and  his  Delia  loved.' 


|)Scilms  of  l^xiiist  Ux  lUiiic. 

POPE'S   "MESSIAH." 

As  the  good  sheplKT.l  tcod,^  his  flocoy  care. 

Seeks  frc-lir-i  |,,  im.  ,  ;iii,|  il,,-   | -l  ;nr, 

A    SACRED    ECI/OOUE. 

Explores  tli,    '     ■    '    ■       ,     !,     :,_     '    ,  i,  ,lir<-cts, 

By  day  o'.'i-,,     ■    ■             ;  -     -  u  i  ;  i,,i.,L-ts; 
The  tendcT  I:m,,1,.  !,,    ,,,i  ,     m  l,i-  ,,ii  i., 
Feeds  from  his  hand,  and  iu  his  bosom  warms  : 
Thus  shall  mankind  His  guardian  caro  engage, 

To  heavenly  themes  sublimer  strains  belong. 
The  mossy  fountains  and  the  sylvan  shades, 
The  dreams  of  Pindus  and  the  Aonian  maids, 

Delight  no  more.  —  0  Thou  my  voice  inspire. 

The  promised  Father  of  the  future  ago. 

X.I  iiiniv  ,-hall  oaiio,,  !,„-;, i„-t  nation  rise, 

N.iranlrnl   »an„.i-  ni.,  t   «  ,tl,  hateful  eyeS, 

Who  touched  Isaiah's  hallowed  lips  with  firo  ! 

Rapt  into  future  times,  the  bard  begun  : 

.\.,r  li.  1,1-  u,il,  ,l,,;,,„,„u'  -1...I  l.e  covered  o'er. 

A  virgin  -Irill  f,.„,.,.iv^.  a  virgin  bear  a  Son  ! 

Till-,  Ijiii/.iH  lrum|jLl-  kaiill'--  lage  no  more  ; 

From.l.    .-.  ,-..  t  lnl„.ia  a  branch  arise, 

But  useless  lances  into  scythes  shall  bend. 

Whns.-  .,.  r,  i  11,,,.,,  ,  ,v,ll,  fragrance  fills  the  skies  : 

And  the  broad  falchion  in  a  ploughshare  end. 

The  fill,  r,  .il  >|,int  11.  r  il?  leaves  shall  move, 

Then  piihiccs  shall  rise  ;   the  joyful  son 

And  on  its  tup  clusceiul.^  the  mystic  dove. 

Shall  liiii.h  uliat  hi.  .h,,ii-l,,,,|  Ml,   l,.,i.-im; 

Ye  heavens  !  from  high  the  dewy  nectar  pour, 

Th.a,    MM,,.  .,  .|,,„|,,u    .,,  |,,,     ,    ,  ,    ,      ,    , II   yield, 

And  in  soft  silence  shed  the  kindly  shower  ! 

.Anil  111,'   ■ Iian.l   1!,,,,         „.    1    .     ,,,!    :,,||,  the  field. 

The  sick  and  weak  the  healing  plant  shall  aid. 

Til.,  Miaiii  111  l.anvii  .1,    III,   »ill..:.ii|, ii.su, 

From  storni,<  a  shelter,  and  from  heat  a  shade. 

1     All  erinu-s  shall  cease,  and  ancient  fraud  shall  fail, 

Ami  -i.iit-,  aMii,|-i  ihr  tliii-iy  ivilds,  to  hear 

Returning  justice  lift  aloft  her  scale  ; 

New  tails  ..1  «at.r  iiiuniiH.iii;;  in  his  oar. 

Peace  o'er  the  world  her  olive  wand  extend. 

On  rifted  rocks,  the  dragon's  late  abodes. 

And  white-robed  innocence  from  heaven  descend. 

The  green  reed  trembles,  and  the  bulrush  nods. 

Swift  fly  the  years,  and  rise  the  expected  morn  ! 

Waste  sandy  valleys,  once  perplexed  with  thorn, 

0  spriii?  tn  li  -lit,  :iii--,,i,.i.,us  Babe,  be  born  ! 

The  spiry  fir  and  shapely  box  adorn  ; 

Seciii.ii,                 •    1     ,iili..st  wreaths  to  bring, 

With  I.I  1                        ;  th,.  breathing  spring: 

And  odorous  myrtle  to  the  noisome  weed. 

Seelult,    I,,  1, „  In-  lirMd  advance. 

The  Iambs  with  wolves  shall  graze  the  verdant  mead, 

See  nodding  fnrists  ,m  the  mountains  dance  ; 

And  boys  in  Hourly  l.aii.l-  iIr,  ti^.T  l.a.l  ; 

See  spicy  clouds  from  lowly  Sharon  rise. 

The  steer  ami  li.,n  at  .m.,  ml,  -hall  uir.t. 

And  Carmel's  flowery  top  perfumes  the  skies  ! 

And  harmk-s,^  -,  i|,.  ni-  li.'k  il.,,  i,.l,'i  i.n'.s  feet.               ' 

Hark  !  a  glad  voice  the  lonely  desert  cheers  ; 

The  smiling  inlUut  in  hi.,  imnd  ^Imll  take                       | 

Prepare  the  way  !  a  God,  a  God  appears  ! 

The  crested  basilisk  and  speckled  snake. 

A  God,  a  God  !  the  vocal  hills  reply  : 

Pleased  the  green  lustre  of  their  scales  survey, 

The  rocks  proclaim  the  approaching  Deity. 

And  with  their  forky  tongues  shall  innocently  play. 

Lo,  earth  receives  Him  from  the  bending  skies  ! 

Rise,  crowned  with  light,  imperial  Salem,  rise !            j 

Sink  down,  ye  mountains,  and,  yo  valleys,  rise  ! 

Exalt  thy  towery  head,  and  lift  thy  eyes  ! 

With  heads  declined,  ye  cedars,  homage  pay  ; 

See  a  long  race  thy  spacious  courts  adorn  ;                  | 

Be  smooth,  ye  rocks  ;  ye  rapid  floods,  give  way  ! 

See  future  sons  and  daughters,  yet  unborn. 

The  Saviour  comes  !  by  ancient  bards  foretold  ; 

In  crowding  ranks  on  every  side  arise, 

Hear  him,  ye  deaf  !  and  all  yo  blind,  behold  ! 

Demanding  life,  impatient  for  the  skies  ! 

He  from  thick  films  shall  purge  the  visual  ray. 

See  barbarous  nations  at  thy  gates  attend, 

And  on  the  sightless  eye-ball  pour  the  day  : 

Walk  in  thy  light,  and  in  thy  temple  bend  ; 

'Tis  He  the  obstructed  paths  of  sound  shall  clear. 

See  thy  bright  altars  thronged  with  prostrate  kings. 

And  bid  new  music  charm  the  unfolding  ear  ; 

And  heaped  with  products  of  Sabtean  springs  ! 

The  dumb  shall  sing,  the  lame  his  crutch  forego. 

For  thee  Idumo's  spicy  forests  blow. 

And  leap  exulting  like  the  bounding  roe. 

And  seeds  of  gold  in  Ophir's  mountains  glow. 

No  sigh,  no  murmur,  the  wide  world  shall  hear  ; 

See  heaven  its  sparkling  portivls  wide  display, 

From  every  face  He  wipes  off  every  tear. 

And  break  upon  thee  in  a  flood  of  day. 

In  adamantine  chains  shall  death  be  bound. 

No  more  the  rising  sun  shall  gild  the  morn, 

And  hell's  grim  tyrant  fool  the  eternal  wound. 

Nor  evening  Cynthia  fill  her  silver  horn  ; 

192 


RURAL    POETRY. 


But,  lost,  dissolved  in  thy  superior  rays, 
One  tide  of  glory,  one  unclouded  blaze, 
O'erflow  thy  courts  :  the  Light  himself  shall  shine 
Revealed,  and  God's  eternal  day  be  thine  ! 
The  seas  shall  waste,  the  skies  in  smoke  decay, 
Rocks  fall  to  dust,  and  mountains  melt  away  ; 
But  fixed  his  Word,  his  saving  power  remains  : 
Thy  realm  forever  lasts,  thy  own  Messiah  reigns  ! 


QUAELES-S   "DELIGHT  IN  GOD." 

I  LOVE,  and  have  some  cause  to  love,  the  earth  ; 

She  is  my  Maker's  creature,  therefore  good. 
She  is  my  mother,  for  she  gave  me  birth. 

She  is  my  tender  nurse  ;  she  gives  me  food. 

But  what 's  a  creature.  Lord,  compared  with  Thee  ? 

Or  what 's  my  mother,  or  my  nurse,  to  me  ? 

I  love  the  air  ;  her  dainty  sweets  refresh 

My  drooping  soul,  and  to  new  sweets  invite  me  ; 

Her  shrill-mouthed  choir  sustain  me  with  their  flesh. 
And  with  their  polyphouiau  notes  delight  me. 
But  what's  the  air,  or  all  the  sweets  that  she 
Can  bless  my  soul  withal,  compared  to  Thee  ? 

I  love  the  sea  ;  she  is  my  fellow-creature  — 
My  careful  purveyor  ;  she  provides  me  store  ; 

She  walls  me  round  ;  she  makes  my  diet  greater  ; 
She  wafts  my  treasure  from  a  foreign  shore. 
But,  Lord  of  oceans,  when  compared  with  Thee, 
What  is  the  ocean,  or  her  wealth,  to  me  ? 

To  heaven's  high  city  I  direct  my  journey. 

Whose  spangled  suburbs  entertain  my  eye  ; 
Mine  eye,  by  contemplation,  great  attorney  ! 

Transcends  the  crystal  pavement  of  the  sky. 

But  what  is  heaven,  great  God,  compared  to  Thee  ? 

Without  thy  presence,  heaven's  no  heaven  to  me. 

Without  thy  presence,  earth  gives  no  refection  ; 

Without  thy  presence,  sea  aflfords  no  treasure  ; 
Without  thy  presence,  air's  a  rank  infection  ; 

Without  thy  presence,  heaven  itself 's  no  pleasure; 

If  not  possessed,  if  not  enjoyed  in  Thee, 

What's  earth,  or  sea,  or  air,  or  heaven,  to  me  ? 

The  highest  honors  that  the  world  can  boast 
Are  subjects  far  too  low  for  my  desire  ; 

The  brightest  beams  of  glory  are,  at  most, 
But  dying  sparkles  of  thy  living  fire. 
The  proudest  flames  that  earth  can  kindle  be 
But  nightly  glow-worms  if  compared  to  Thee. 

Without  thy  presence,  wealth  is  bags  of  cares  ; 

Wisdom,  but  folly  ;  joy,  disquiet  —  sadness  ; 
Friendship  is  treason,  and  delights  are  snares  ; 

Pleasure 's  but  pain,  and  mirth  but  pleasing  mad- 
ness. 

Without  Thee,  Lord,  things  be  not  what  they  be, 

Nor  have  they  being,  -when  compared  with  Thee. 


In  having  all  things  and  not  Thee,  what  have  I  ? 

Not  having  Thee,  what  have  my  labors  got? 
Let  me  enjoy  but  Thee,  what  further  crave  I  ? 

And  having  Thee  alone,  what  have  I  not  ? 

I  wish  nor  sea,  nor  land,  nor  would  I  be 

Possessed  of  heaven,  heaven  unpossessed  of  Thee  ! 


HERRICK'S   "THANKSGIVING." 
Lord,  thou  hast  given  me  a  cell , 

Wherein  to  dwell  ; 
A  little  house  whose  humble  roof 

Is  weather-proof ; 
Under  the  spars  of  which  I  lie 

Both  soft  and  dry. 
Where  Thou,  my  chamber  for  to  ward. 

Hast  set  a  guard 
Of  harmless  thoughts,  to  watch  and  keep 

Me  while  I  sleep. 
Low  is  my  porch  as  is  my  fate, 

Both  void  of  state  ; 
And  yet  the  threshold  of  my  door 

Is  worn  by  the  poor, 
Who  hither  come,  and  freely  get 

Good  words  or  meat. 
Like  .as  my  parlor,  so  my  hall. 

And  kitchen  small  ; 
A  little  buttery,  and  therein 

A  little  bin. 
Which  keeps  my  little  loaf  of  bread, 

Unehipped,  unflead. 
Some  brittle  sticks  of  thorn  or  brier 

Make  me  a  fire. 
Close  by  whose  living  coal  I  sit. 

And  glow  like  it. 
Lord,  I  confess,  too,  when  I  dine. 

The  pulse  is  thine. 
And  all  those  other  bits  that  be 

There  placed  by  Thee  ; 
The  worts,  the  purslane,  and  the  mess 

Of  water-cress. 
Which  of  thy  kindness  Thou  hast  sent ; 

And  my  content 
Makes  these  and  my  beloved  beet 

To  be  more  sweet. 
'Tis  Thou  that  crown'st  my  glittering  hearth 

With  guiltless  mirth. 
And  giv'st  me  wassail  bowls  to  drink, 

Spiced  to  the  brink. 
Lord,  'tis  thy  plenty-dropping  hand 

That  sows  my  land. 
All  this  and  better  dost  Thou  send 

Me  for  this  end  — 
That  I  should  render  for  my  part 

A  thankful  heart. 
Which,  fired  with  incense,  I  resign 

As  wholly  thine  ; 
But  the  acceptance,  that  must  be, 

0  Lord,  of  Thee  ! 


'm:^. 


SUMMER— JULY 


glooiuficlb's  "farmer's  ^U^ 


Irfssons  from  H)e  fiiritier's  life.  Turnip-sovrinsr.  Harrowing. 
Showers.    Wheat  ri|ieninR.     Sparrows.    Giles's  re      - 
Insects.    The  sky-lark.    The  farmer  surveyinR  his  rj 
ing  harvest.     Keapinj;  i  plcaninit.  The  harvest-«elil 


itsf 


Theil 


Labors  of  the  barn  in  harvestinc.    Flies  j  cruelty  of  dock, 
ing.     The  insolent  gander.     Niflit  s   a  thunder-storm. 
Harvest-home  festival.    Uefleclions  on  the  separat 
the  employer  and  employed,    lleflnement  checks  s: 
thy  and  freedom.     Lament  of  ihe  laborer  ;  his  clali 


PBOTIDEST 


NECBSSJBT 


AKD    ITSCAL    WITH 


TnE  Farmer's  life  displays  in  every  port 
A  moral  lesson  to  the  scnstittl  heart. 
Though  in  the  lap  of  plenty,  thoughtful  still, 
He  looks  beyond  the  present  good  or  ill ; 
Nor  estimates  alone  one  blessing's  worth, 
From  changeful  seasons,  or  capricious  earth  ; 
But  views  tho  future  with  the  present  hours, 
And  looks  for  failures  as  ho  looks  for  showers  ; 
For  casual  a."!  for  certain  want  prepares. 
And  round  hia  yard  tho  reeking  hay-stack  rears  ; 
Or  clover,  blossomed  lovely  to  the  sight, 
His  team's  rich  store  through  many  a  wintry  night. 


25 


What    though    obundance   round    his   dwelling 
spreads. 
Though  ever  moist  his  self-improving  meads 
Supply  his  dairy  with  a  copious  flood. 
And  seem  to  promise  unexhausted  food  ; 
That  promise  fails,  when  buried  deep  in  snow, 
And  vegetative  juices  cease  to  flow. 
For  this,  his  plough  turns  up  the  destined  lands, 
Whence  stormy  AVinter  draws  its  full  demands  ; 
For  this,  the  seed  minutely  small  ho  sows. 
Whence,  sound  and  sweet,  tho  hardy  turnip  grows. 


D,  iT 


CI.OnS,   COMPiRKD 


But  how  unlike  to  April's  closing  days  ! 
High  climbs  the  sun,  and  darts  his  powerful  rays  ; 
Whitens  the  fresh-drawn  mould,  and  pierces  through 
The  cumbrous  clods  that  tumble  round  the  plough. 
O'er  heaven's  bright  azure,  hence,  with  joyful  eyes, 
The  farmer  sees  dark  clouds  assembling  rise  ; 
Borne  o'er  his  fields  a  heavy  torrent  falls, 
And  strikes  the  earth  in  hasty  driving  squalls. 


194 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  BLOOMFIELD. 


'  Right  welcome  down,  ye  precious  drops  ! '  he  cries; 
But  soon,  too  soon,  the  partial  blessing  flies. 
'  Boy,  bring  thy  harrows,  try  how  deep  the  ram 
Has  forced  its  way  ! '    He  comes,  but  comes  in  vain ; 
Dry  dust  beneath  the  bubbling  surface  lurks, 
And  mocks  his  pains  the  more,  the  more  he  works  : 
Still  midst  huge  clods  he  plunges  on  forlorn. 
That  laugh  his  harrows  and  tlic  ehower  to  scorn. 
E'en  thus  the  living  clod,  the  stub"born  fool, 
Resists  the  stormy  lectures  of  the  school. 
Till  tried  with  gentler  means,  the  dunce  to  please, 
His  head  imbibes  right  reason  by  degrees  ; 
As  when  from  eve  till  morning's  wakeful  hour 
Light  constant  rain  evinces  secret  power, 
And  ere  the  day  resume  its  wonted  smiles, 
Presents  a  cheerful,  easy  task  for  Giles. 
Down  w^th  a  touch  the  mellowed  soil  is  laid, 
And  yon  tall  crop  next  claims  his  timely  aid  ; 
Thither  well  pleased  he  hies,  assured  to  find 
Wild,  trackless  haunts,  and  objects  to  his  mind. 

THE  GBOWISG    GBAIN    IN    EAR  }     SPARROWS ',     NATURE,  SOLI- 

Shot  up  from  broad  rank  blades  that  droop  below, 
The  nodding  wheat-car  forms  a  graceful  bow, 
With  milky  kernels  starting  full,  weighed  down, 
Ere  yet  the  sun  hath  tinged  its  head  with  brown  ; 
Whilst  thousands  in  a  flock,  forever  gay. 
Loud  chirping  sparrows  welcome  on  the  day, 
And  from  the  mazes  of  the  leafy  thorn 
Drop  one  by  one  upon  the  bending  corn. 
Giles  with  a  p"U-  ;i";iil-  Hi.  ir  .1...,,  retreats. 
And  round  the  gva.-.L-m,,,,,  .l-uv  border  beats  ; 
On  either  side  compbtily  c.\.i -[iic-ad, 
Here  branches  bend,  thuiL-  com  oVrtops  his  head. 
Green  covert,  hail !  for  through  the  varying  year 
No  hours  so  sweet,  no  scene  to  him  so  dear. 
Here  Wisdom's  placid  eye  delighted  sees 
His  frequent  intervals  of  lonely  ease. 
And  with  one  ray  his  infant  soul  inspires. 
Just  kindling  there  her  never-dying  fires. 
Whence  solitude  derives  peculiar  charms. 
And  heaven-directed  thought  his  bosom  warms. 

GILES     REPOSING  ;     SOMMEE    INSECT     LIFE  ;     HABITS     OF  THE 
BEETLE,   MOTH,    GRASSHOPPER. 

Just  where  the  parting  bough's  light  shadows  play. 
Scarce  in  the  shade,  nor  in  the  scorching  day, 
Stretched  on  the  turf  he  lies,  a  peopled  bed. 
Where  swarming  insects  creep  around  his  head  ! 
The  small  dust-colored  beetle  climbs  with  pain 
O'er  the  smooth  plantain-leaf,  a  spacious  plain  ! 
Thence  higher  still,  by  countless  steps  conveyed. 
He  gains  the  summit  of  a  shivering  blade, 
And  flirts  his  filmy  wings,  and  looks  around, 
Exulting  in  his  distance  from  the  ground. 
The  toHdn-ii..  1.1-1  iii"il'  li.i- .lancing  seen. 
The  vaultiM-  .1  .     ■:..,'  -y  green. 


Their  liUlr  In. ■.  l..,   i;ui..ii-  i.n.Ts  sustain. 

But  what  can  unassisted  vision  do? 

What,  but  recoil  where  most  it  would  pursue  ; 


His  patient  gaze  but  finish  with  a  sigh, 
When  music  waking  speaks  the  skylark  nigh  ! 

AND    PfeACBFCL  SLUMBERS. 

Just  Starting  from  the  corn  she  cheerly  sings, 
And  trusts  with  conscious  pride  her  downy  wings  ; 
Ptill  louder  breathes,  and  in  the  face  of  day 
Mounts  up,  and  calls  on  Giles  to  mark  her  way. 
Close  to  his  eyes  his  hat  he  instant  bends. 
And  forms  a  friendly  telescope,  that  lends 
Just  aid  enough  to  dull  the  glaring  light. 
And  place  the  wandering  bird  before  his  sight ; 
Yet  oft  beneath  a  cloud  she  sweeps  along, 
Lost  for  a  while,  yet  pours  her  varied  song  : 
He  views  the  spot,  and  as  the  cloud  moves  by, 
Again  she  stretches  up  the  clear  blue  sky  ; 
Her  form,  her  motion,  undistinguished  quite. 
Save  when  she  wheels  direct  from  shade  to  light : 
The  fluttering  songstress  a  mere  speck  became, 
Like  fancy's  floating  bubbles  in  a  dream  ; 
He  sees  her  yet,  but,  yielding  to  repose, 
Unwittingly  his  jaded  eyelids  close. 
Delicious  sleep  !     From  sleep  who  could  forbear, 
With  no  more  guilt  than  Giles,  an^  no  more  care? 
Peace  o'er  his  slumbers  waves  her  guardian  wing, 
Nor  conscience  once  disturbs  him  with  a  sting  ; 
He  wakes  refreshed  from  every  trivial  pain. 
And  takes  his  pole  and  brushes  round  again. 

THE     RIPENED     CROP. — SUNDAY    MORNING     SUBVET    BY    THE 
FARMER  ;   mS  GRATITUDE  TO  GOD. 

Its  dark-green  hue,  its  sicklier  tints,  all  fail. 
And  ripening  harvest  rustles  in  the  gale. 
A  glorious  sight,  if  glory  dwells  below, 
Where  HeuvinV  iiiunili..  n.-..-  makes  all  the  show, 

O'er  everv  li'M  1  .-..l.l.'n  prospect  found, 

That  glad- il).  pLu-lnnair- Sunday  morning'sround, 
When  on  s.jiii.-  .  inim  ii.v  la-  takes  his  stand, 
To  judge  the  smiling  produce  of  the  land. 
Here  Vanity  slinks  back,  her  head  to  hide  : 
What  is  there  here  to  flatter  human  pride  ? 
The  towering  fabric,  or  the  dome's  loud  roar, 
And  steadfast  columns,  may  astonish  more, 
Where  the  charmed  gazer  long  delighted  stays, 
Yet  traced  but  to  the  architect  the  praise  : 
Whilst  here,  the  veriest  clown  that  treads  the  sod, 
Without  one  scruple,  gives  the  praise  to  God, 
And  two-fold  joys  possess  his  raptured  mind, 
From  gratitude  and  admiration  joined. 

REAPERS   AND   GLEANERS.  —  COTTAGERS. 

Here,  midst  the  boldest  triumphs  of  her  worth. 
Nature  herself  invites  the  reapers  forth  ; 
Dares  the  keen  sickle  from  its  twelvemonth's  rest. 
And  gives  that  ardor  which  in  every  breast 
From  infancy  to  age  alike  appears. 
When  the  first  sheaf  its  plumy  top  uprears. 
No  rake  takes  here  what  Heaven  to  all  bestows  — 
Children  of  want,  for  you  the  bounty  flows  ! 
And  every  cottage,  from  the  plenteous  store, 
Receives  a  burden  nightly  at  its  door. 


BUMMER  —  JULY. 


195 


TUB  RBAPIXO  i  nULTU  ;  JOLUTT  i  TUBS  OUT  0?  ALL  HANDS. 

Hark  !  where  the  swooping  scythe  row  rips  aloDg; 
Each  sturdy  mower  emulous  and  strong  ; 
AVhudo  writhing  form  meridian  heat  defies, 
Bonds  o'er  his  worlc,  and  every  sinew  tries  ; 
Prostrates  tho  waving  treasure  at  his  feet, 
But  spares  tho  rising  clover,  short  and  sweet. 
Como,  ilcalth  !  come,  Jollity  !  light-footed,  come  ; 
Hero  hold  your  revels,  and  make  this  your  home. 
Each  heart  awaits  and  hails  you  as  its  own  ; 
Each  moistened  brow,  that  scorns  to  wear  a  frown  : 
Tho  unpeopled  dwelling  mourns  ita  tenants  strayed; 
E'en  the  domestic,  laughing  dairy-maid 
Hies  to  tho  field,  the  general  toil  to  share. 


THE  FARXEH^S  GLAD  SUPEilVISU 

LOVE  AND   DEACTT. 

Meanwhile  tho  farmer  quits  his  elbow-chair. 
His  cool  brick-floor,  his  pitcher,  and  his  case. 

And  braves  the  sultry  bciitn-',  :inil  i;l;i'IIy  sees 
His  gates  thrown  open,  :itu1  lii-  i.  mu  alu^iul, 
The  ready  group  attunduiil  mh  1m-  w  iI, 
To  turn  tho  swarth,  the  tjuiM  lini,'  lua.l  tn  roar, 
Or  ply  the  busy  rake,  the  land  to  clear. 
Summer's  light  garb  itself  now  cumbrous  grown, 
Each  his  thin  doublet  in  tho  shade  throws  down  ; 
Whore  oft  the  mastiff  skulks  with  half-shut  eye, 
And  rouses  at  tho  stranger  passing  by  ; 
Whilst  unrestramed  the  social  converse  flows. 
And  every  breast  Love's  powerful  Impulse  knows. 
And  rival  wits,  with  more  than  rustic  grace. 
Confess  the  presence  of  a  pretty  face. 


For,  lo  !  encircled  there,  the  lovely  maid. 
In  youth's  own  bloom  and  native  smiles  arrayed, 
Her  hat  awry,  divested  of  her  gown. 
Her  creaking  stays  of  leather,  stout  and  brown  ; 
Invidious  barrier  !  why  art  thou  so  high, 
When  the  slight  covering  of  her  nock  slips  by? 
There  half  revealing  to  the  eager  sight 
Her  full,  ripe  bosom,  exquisitely  white  ! 
In  many  a  local  tale  of  harmless  mirth, 
And  many  a  jest  of  momentary  birth. 
She  bears  a  part,  and  as  she  stops  to  speak, 
Strokes  back  the  ringlets  from  her  glowing  check. 

RBFRESDMBNTS  IN  THE  HARVEST-FTEL 


Now  noon  gone  by,  and  four  declining  hours, 
Tho  weary  limbs  relax  their  boasted  powers  ; 
Thirst  rages  strong,  tho  fainting  spirits  fail, 
And  ask  tho  sovereign  cordial,  homo-browed  ale  : 
Beneath  sonio  sheltering  heap  of  yellow  corn 
Rest  tho  hooped  keg,  and  friendly,  cooling  horn. 
That  mocks  alike  the  goblet's  brittle  frame. 
Its  costlier  potions,  and  its  nobler  name. 
To  Mary  first  tho  brimming  draught  is  given. 
By  toil  made  welcome  as  the  dews  of  heaven. 
And  never  lip  that  pressed  its  homely  edge 
Has  kinder  blessings  or  a  heartier  pledge. 


HARVEST  EOTLOTMESTS  OF  GILES  i  TREADIM  DOWN  Tn«  MOV 

Of  wholesome  viands  hero  a  banquet  smiles, 
A  common  oheor  for  all  ;  —  e'en  humble  Giles, 
Who  joys  his  trivial  services  to  yield 
Amidst  tho  fragrance  of  tho  open  field  ; 
Oft  doomed,  in  suffocating  heat,  to  bear 
Tho  cobwcbed  barn's  impure  and  dusty  air  ; 
To  ride  in  murky  state  the  panting  steed. 
Destined  aloft  tho  unloaded  grain  to  tread, 
Where,  in  his  path  as  heaps  on  heaps  are  thrown, 
Ho  rears,  and  plunges  tho  loose  mountain  down  : 
Laborious  task  !  with  what  delight  when  done 
Both  horse  and  rider  greet  tho  unclouded  son  ! 

BALL,  THE  CART-noBSB  }    FLIES  ;    TRCELTY  OF    DOCKING.  - 
BWES  AND  COWS  TOUMBNTBD. 

Yet  by  the  unclouded  sun  arc  hourly  bred 
The  bold  assailants  that  surround  thine  head, 
Poor  patient  Ball !  and,  with  insulting  wing, 
Roar  in  thine  ears,  and  dart  tho  piercing  sting  ; 
In  thy  behalf  tho  crest-waved  boughs  avail 
More  than  thy  short-clipt  remnant  of  a  tail, 
A  moving  mockery,  a  useless  name, 
A  living  proof  of  cruelty  and  shame,  — 
Shame  to  the  man,  whatever  fame  he  bore. 
Who  took  from  theo  what  man  can  ne'er  restore. 
Thy  weapon  of  defonoe,  thy  chiefcst  goml. 
When  swarming  flies  contending  suck  thy  blood. 
Nor  thine  alone  the  suffering,  thine  the  caro. 
The  fretful  ewe  bemoans  .an  e.iual  .-^liiire  : 


Ort 


Unruly  co\v-  wiili  iti:iikr.l  iiii[':ii  iMur  -t;iy. 
And,  vainly  striving  to  escape  their  fue.-i. 
The  pail  kick  down  ;  a  piteous  current  flows. 


1-t  II.  I  riinii^li  tluit  plagues  like  these  molest? 
,\Iii-t  -lill  aii.it h.r  r,ie  annoy  their  rest? 
He  comes,  the  pest  and  terror  of  tho  yard. 
His  full-fledged  progeny's  imperious  guard  ; 
The  gander  ;  —  spiteful,  insolent,  and  bold, 
At  the  colt's  footlock  takes  his  daring  hold. 
There,  serpent-like,  escapes  a  dreadful  blow  ; 
And  straight  attacks  a  poor  defenceless  cow  : 
EiK-h  booby  goose  tho  unworthy  strife  enjoys, 
,\nd  hails  his  prowess  with  redoubled  noise. 
Then  back  ho  stalks,  of  self-importance  full. 
Seizes  tho  shaggy  foretop  of  the  bull. 
Till  whirled  aloft  he  falls  ;  a  timely  check, 
En<iugh  to  dislocate  his  worthless  neck  ; 
For,  lo  !  of  old,  ho  boasts  an  honored  wound  ; 
Behold  that  broken  wing  that  trails  the  ground  ! 
Thus  fools  and  bravoes  kindred  pranks  pursue  ; 
As  savage  quite,  and  oft  as  fatal  too. 
Happy  the  man  that  foils  an  envious  elf, 
Using  the  darts  of  spleen  to  serve  himself. 
As  when  by  turns  the  strolling  swine  engago 
Tho  utmost  efforts  of  the  bully's  rage, 


196 


RURAL    POETRY. BLOOMFIELD. 


Whose  nibbling  warfare  on  the  grunter's  side 
Is  welcome  pleasure  to  his  bristly  hide  ; 
Gently  he  stoops,  or,  stretched  at  ease  along, 
Enjoys  the  insults  of  the  gabbling  throng, 
That  march  exulting  round  his  fallen  head, 
As  human  victors  trample  on  their  dead. 


,  THE  WESTERN  SUMMER  CLOUD  AT  E7KNING. 

Still  Twilight,  welcome  !  Rest,  how  sweet  art  thou! 
Now  eve  o'erhangs  the  western  cloud's  thick  brow  : 
The  far-stretched  curtain  of  retiring  light. 
With  fiery  treasures  fraught  ;  that  on  the  sight 
Flash  from  its  bulging  sides,  where  darkness  lowers. 
In  fancy's  eye,  a  chain  of  mouldering  towers  ; 
Or  craggy  coasts  just  rising  into  view. 
Midst  javelins  dire,  and  darts  of  streaming  blue. 

THE  SCMMER  MmNIGHT  TEMPEST  ;    DRBiD  ;    THE  ELM  ;    THE 
HODSE-DOG. 

Anon  tired  laborers  bless  their  sheltering  home, 
AThen  midnight  and  the  frightful  tempest  come. 
The  farmer  wakes,  and  sees  with  silent  dread 
The  angry  shafts  of  heaven  gleam  round  his  bed  ; 
The  bursting  cloud  reiterated  roars, 
Shakes  his  straw  roof,  and  jars  his  bolted  doors  : 
The  slow-winged  storm  along  the  troubled  skies 
Spreads  its  dark  course  ;  the  wind  begins  to  rise  ; 
And  full-leafed  elms,  his  dwelling's  shade  by  day, 
With  mimic  thunder  give  its  fury  way  : 
Sounds  in  his  chimney-top  a  doleful  peal, 
Midst  pouring  rain,  or  gusts  of  rattling  hail  ; 
With  ten-fold  danger,  low  the  tempest  bends. 
And  quick  and  strong  the  sulph'rous  flame  descends ; 
The  frightened  mastiff  from  his  kennel  flies. 
And  cringes  at  the  door  with  piteous  cries.  — 

WHOLESOME  AWE  INSPIRED   BY  A  TEMPEST. 

Where  now  's  the  trifler  ?  where  the  child  of  pride  ? 
These  are  the  moments  when  the  heart  is  tried  ! 
Nor  lives  the  man  with  conscience  e'er  so  clear. 
But  feels  a  solemn,  reverential  fear  ; 
Feels  too  a  joy  relieve  his  aching  breast. 
When  the  spent  storm  hath  howled  itself  to  rest. 
Still,  welcome  beats  the  long-continued  shower. 
And  sleep  protracted  comes  with  double  power  ; 
Calm  dreams  of  bliss  bring  on  the  morning  sun, 
For  every  barn  is  filled,  and  Harvest  done. 

THE  HARVEST  HOME  ;  TRIDMPH  AND   GRATITUDE. 

Now,  ere  sweet  Summer  bids  its  long  adieu. 
And  winds  blow  keen  where  late  the  blossom  grew. 
The  bustling  day  and  jovial  night  must  come. 
The  long-accustomed  feast  of  Harvest-home. 
No  blood-stained  victory,  in  story  bright, 
Can  give  the  philosophic  mind  delight  ;. 
No  triumph  please  while  rage  and  death  destroy  : 
Reflection  sickens  at  the  monstrous  joy. 
And  where  the  joy,  if  rightly  understood. 
Like  cheerful  praise  for  universal  good  ? 
The  soul  nor  check  nor  doubtful  anguish  knows, 
But  free  and  pure  the  grateful  current  flows. 


Behold  the  sound  oak  table's  massy  frame 
Besti-ide  the  kitchen  floor  !  the  careful  dame 
And  generous  host  invite  their  friends  around. 
While  all  that  cleared  the  crop,  or  tilled  the  ground. 
Are  guests  by  right  of  custom  :  —  old  and  young, 
And  many  a  neighboring  yeoman,  join  the  throng, 
With  artisans  that  lent  their  dext'rous  aid. 
When  o'er  each  field  the  flaming  sunbeams  played. 


Yet  Plenty  reigns,  and  from  her  boundless  hoard, 
Though  not  one  jelly  trembles  on  the  board. 
Supplies  the  feast  with  all  that  sense  can  crave  ; 
With  all  that  made  our  great  forefathers  brave. 
Ere  the  cloyed  palate  countless  flavors  tried. 
And  cooks  had  Nature's  judgment  set  aside. 
With  thanks  to  Heaven,  and  tales  of  rustic  lore. 
The  mansion  echoes  when  the  banquet 's  o'er  ; 
A  wider  circle  spreads,  and  smiles  abound, 
As  quick  the  frothing  horn  performs  its  round  ; 
Care's  mortal  foe  ;  that  sprightly  joys  imparts 
To  cheer  the  frame  and  elevate  their  hearts. 
Here,  fresh  and  brown,  the  hazel's  produce  lies 
In  tempting  heaps,  and  peals  of  laughter  rise, 
And  crackling  music,  with  the  frequent  song. 
Unheeded  bear  the  midnight  hour  along. 


Here,  once  a  year.  Distinction  lowers  its  crest. 
The  master,  servant,  and  the  merry  guest. 
Are  equal  all  ;  and  round  the  happy  ring 
The  reaper's  eyes  exulting  glances  fling  ; 
And,  warmed  with  gratitude,  he  quits  his  place. 
With  sunburnt  hands  and  ale-enlivened  face. 
Refills  the  jug  his  honored  host  to  tend. 
To  serve  at  once  the  master  and  the  friend  ; 
Proud  thus  to  meet  his  smiles,  to  share  his  tale. 
His  nuts,  his  conversation,  and  his  ale. 

THE  GROWING  INEQUALITY  ( 


Such  were  the  days,  —  of  days  long  past 
When  Pride  gave  place  to  Mirth  without  a 
Ere  tyrant  ni-l-in-  ^Inn^tli  :iiffieient  bore 
To  violate  llh    '..  'ill      .  I  :i      |"i"v; 

To  leave  tin  III i maddening  i 

Where'er  Ktlln.  im  m  In  l^-  n-  hated  face  : 
Nor  causeless  hatred  ;  —  't  is  the  peasant's  c 
That  hourly  makes  his  wretched  station  woi 
Destroys  life's  intercourse  ;  the  social  plan 
That  rank  to  rank  cements,  as  man  to  man 
Wealth  flows  around  him,  fashion  lordly  re 
Yet  poverty  is  his,  and  mental  pains  ! 


L  sing. 


Methinks  I  hear  the  mourner  thus  impart 
The  stifled  murmurs  of  his  wounded  heart :     [cold? 
■  Whence  comes  this  change,  ungracious,  irksome. 
Whence  the  new  grandeur  that  mine  eyes  behold  ? 


SUMMEK  —  JULY. 


197 


The  Tvidoning  diatanoo  vbioh  I  dnily  soo? 

Ilaa  Wealth  done  this  ?—  then  Wealth 's  a  foe  to  mo  ; 

Foe  to  our  rfghts  ;   that  leaves  a  powerful  few 

Tho  paths  of  emulation  to  pursue  :  — 

For  emulation  stoops  to  us  no  more  : 

The  hope  of  humble  industry  is  o'er  ; 

Tho  blameless  hope,  tho  cheering,  sweet  presage 

Of  future  comforts  for  declining  ago. 

Can  my  sons  share  from  this  paternal  hand 

Tho  proflU  with  the  labors  of  tho  land  ? 

No  !  though  indulgent  Heaven  its  blessing  deigns, 

Where's  tho  small  farm  to  suit  my  scanty  means  ? 

CONTEXT,  TOE  ASCIEST  lU2ilOEST   OF   TOE    COTTAGE,  CiSXOT 

'Content,  tho  poet  sings,  with  us  resides  ; 
In  lonely  oots  like  mine  tho  damsel  hides  ; 
And  will  ho  tlien  in  raptured  visions  tell 
That  sweet  Content  with  Want  can  ever  dwell  ? 
A  barley  loaf,  'tis  true,  my  table  crowns, 
That  fast  diminishing  in  lusty  rounds 
Stops  Nature's  cravings  :  yet  her  sighs  will  flow 
From  knowing  this,  —  that  once  it  was  not  so. 


For  home-brewed  ale,  neglected  « 

la  (luito  discarded  from  the  realms  of  taste. 

Where  unaffected  Freedom  charmed  the  soul, 

The  separate  table  and  tho  costly  bowl. 

Cool  as  the  blast  that  checks  the  budding  Spring, 

A  mockery  of  gladness  round  them  fling. 


PCSCTILIOI-S,  I 

'  For  oft  the  farmer,  ore  his  heart  approves. 
Yields  up  the  custom  which  ho  dearly  loves  : 
Keflncment  forcea  on  him  liko  a  tide  ; 
Bold  innovationa  down  its  current  ride. 
That  bear  no  pcaco  beneath  their  showy  drcas, 
Nor  add  one  tittle  to  his  happiness. 
His  guests  selected  ;  rank's  punctilios  known  ; 
What  trouble  waits  upon  a  casual  frown  ! 
Restraint's  foul  manacles  his  pleasures  maim  ; 
Selected  guests  selected  phrases  claim  : 
Nor  reigna  that  |oy,  when  hand  in  hand  they  join, 
That  good  old  Master  felt  in  shaking  mine. 


•  Our  annual  feast,  when  earth  her  plenty  yields. 
When  crowned  with  bougha  tho  last  load  quits  the 
Tho  aspect  still  of  ancient  joy  puts  on  ;  [fields, 

The  aspect  only,  with  the  substance  gone  : 
Tho  self-same  horn  is  still  at  our  command. 
But  serves  none  now  but  the  plebeian  hand  : 


THE  MiSTEK  WHO  OIVES  TO   LABOR  ITS  DCES. 

'Heaven  bless  his  memory!    bless  his   honored 
name  ! 
(Tho  poor  will  speak  his  lasting,  worthy  fame)  : 
To  souls  fair-purposed  strength  and  guidance  give  : 
In  pity  to  us  still  let  goodness  live  : 
Lot  labor  have  its  due  !  my  cot  shall  be 
From  chilling  want  and  guilty  murmurs  free  : 
Let  labor  have  its  due  !  —  then  peace  ia  mine. 
And  never,  never  shall  my  heart  repine.' 


lastonii  for  lulu. 


POPE'S  "SUMMER," 


A  Shephekd's  boy  (he  seeks  no  better  name) 
Led  forth  his  flocks  along  the  silver  Thame, 
Where  dancing  sunbeams  on  the  waters  played, 
And  verdant  alders  formed  a  quivering  shade. 
Soft  as  he  mourned,  the  streams  forgot  to  flow, 
The  flocks  around  a  dumb  compassion  show. 
The  Naiads  wept  in  every  watery  bower. 
And  Jove  consented  in  a  silent  shower. 

Accept,  0  Garth,  the  Muse's  early  lays, 
That  adds  this  wreath  of  ivy  to  thy  bays  ; 
Hear  what  from  Love  unpractised  hearts  endure, 
From  Love,  the  sole  disease  thou  canst  not  cure. 

Te  shady  beeches,  and  ye  cooling  streams. 
Defence  from  Phoebus',  not  from  Cupid's  beams, 
To  you  I  mourn,  nor  to  the  deaf  I  sing  ; 
The  woods  shall  answer,  and  their  echo  ring. 
The  hills  and  rocks  attend  my  doleful  lay  — 
Why  art  thou  prouder  and  more  hard  than  they? 
The  bleating  sheep  with  my  complaints  agree. 
They  parched  with  heat,  and  I  inflamed  by  thee  ; 
The  sultry  Sirius  burns  the  thirsty  plains, 
While  in  thy  heart  eternal  winter  reigns. 

Where  stray  ye.  Muses,  in  what  lawn  or  grove, 
While  your  Alexis  pines  in  hopeless  love  ? 
In  those  fair  fields  where  sacred  Isis  glides. 
Or  el.-ie  where  Cam  his  winding  vales  divides  ? 
As  in  the  crystal  spring  I  view  my  face. 
Fresh  rising  blushes  paint  the  watery  glass  ; 
But  since  those  graces  please  thy  eyes  no  more, 
I  shun  the  fountains  which  I  sought  before. 
Once  I  was  skilled  in  every  herb  that  grew. 
And  every  plant  that  drinks  the  morning  dew  ; 
Ah,  wretched  shepherd,  what  avails  thy  art. 
To  cure  thy  lambs,  but  not  to  heal  thy  heart ! 

Let  other  swains  attend  the  rural  care. 
Feed  fairer  flocks,  or  richer  fleeces  shear  ; 
But  nigh  yon  mountain  let  me  tune  my  lays. 
Embrace  my  Love,  and  biml  my  br.iws  with  bays. 
That  flute  is  mine  wlii.  1,  Cnlins  tin,,  ful  breath 
Inspired  when  liviii;;.  :i)i'l  li,  ,|ur;itlHd  in  death  : 
He  said  —  Alexis,  tiikv  tlii-  pip.'.  Ilie  same 
That  taught  tlio  groves  my  Rosalinda's  name  : 
But  now  the  reed  shall  hang  on  yonder  tree. 
Forever  silent,  since  despised  by  thee. 


0  1  were  I  made  by  some  transforming  power 
The  captive  bird  that  sings  within  thy  boiper  ! 
Then  might  my  voice  thy  listening  ears  employ. 
And  I  those  kisses  he  receives  enjoy. 

And  yet  my  numbers  please  the  rural  throng, 
Rough  Satyrs  dance,  and  Pan  applauds  the  song. 
The  Nymphs,  forsaking  every  cave  and  spring. 
Their  early  fruit  and  milk-white  turtles  bring  : 
Each  amorous  nymph  prefers  her  gifts  in  vain. 
On  you  their  gifts  are  all  bestowed  again. 
For  you  the  swains  the  fairest  flowers  design. 
And  in  one  garland  all  their  beauties  join  : 
Accept  the  wreath  which  you  deserve  alone, 
In  whom  all  beauties  are  comprised  in  one. 

See,  what  delights  in  sylvan  scenes  appear  ! 
Descending  gods  have  found  Elysium  here. 
In  woods  bright  Venus  with  Adonis  strayed, 
And  chaste  Diana  haunts  the  forest  shade. 
Come,  lovely  Nymph,  and  bless  the  silent  hours. 
When    swains    from    shearing  seek   their  nightly 
When  weary  reapers  quit  the  sultry  field,    [bowers; 
And  crowned  with  corn  their  thanks  to  Ceres  yield. 
This  harmless  grove  no  lurking  viper  hides. 
But  in  my  breast  the  serpent  love  abides  ; 
Here  bees  from  blossoms  sip  the  rosy  dew, 
But  your  Alexis  knows  no  sweets  but  you. 
0  deign  to  visit  our  forsaken  seats. 
The  merry  fountains,  and  the  green  retreats  ! 
Where'er  you  walk,  cool  gales  shall  fan  the  glade  ; 
Trees,  where  you  sit,  shall  crowd  into  a  shade  : 
Where'er  you  tread,  the  blushing  flowers  shall  rise, 
And  all  things  flourish  where  you  turn  your  eyes. 

0,  how  I  long  with  you  to  pass  my  days, 
Invoke  the  Muses,  and  resound  your  praise  ! 
Your  praise  the  birds  shall  chant  in  every  grove. 
And  winds  shall  waft  it  to  the  powers  above. 
But  would  you  sing,  and  rival  Orpheus'  strain. 
The  wondering  forests  soon  should  dance  again. 
The  moving  mountains  hear  the  powerful  call. 
And  headlong  streams  hang  listening  in  their  fall  ! 

But  see,  the  shepherds  shun  the  noonday  heat. 
The  lowing  herds  to  murmuring  brooks  retreat ; 
To  closer  shades  the  panting  flocks  remove  ; 
Ye  gods  !  and  is  there  no  relief  for  love  ? 
But  soon  the  sun  with  milder  rays  descends 
To  the  cool  ocean,  where  his  journey  ends  : 
On  mo  Love's  fiercer  flames  forever  prey  ; 
By  night  he  scorches,  as  he  burns  by  day. 


Jnnstronij's   ''2 

Irt   of    liraltl)." 

"DIET." 

Too  soon  expelled.     His  daily  labor  thaws, 

THE  Sl'BJKCT  OF  DIET  USPROMISISO  FOR  THE  POET. 

To  friendly  chyle,  the  most  rebellious  mass 

That  salt  can  harden,  or  the  smoke  of  years  ; 

EsouOH  of  air.     A  desert  subject  now, 
Rougher  and  wilder,  rises  to  my  siglit  ; 
A  barren  waste,  wliero  not  a  garland  grows 
To  bind  the  muse's  brow  ;  not  e'en  a  proud, 
Stupendous  solitude  frowns  o'er  the  heath, 
To  rouse  a  noble  horror  in  the  soul : 
But  rugged  paths  fatigue,  and  error  leads 
Through  endless  labyrinths  the  devious  feet. 
Farewell,  ethereal  fields  !  the  humbler  arts 

Nor  does  his  gorge  the  rancid  bacon  rue  ; 
Nor  that  which  Cestria  sends,  tenacious  paste 
Of  solid  milk.    But  ye  of  softer  clay, 
Infirm  and  delicate  !  and  ye  who  waste. 
With  pale  and  bloated  sloth,  the  tedious  day  ! 

The  full  repast ;  and  let  sagacious  age 
Grow  wiser,  lessoned  by  the  dropping  teeth. 

Of  life,  the  table  of  the  homely  gods, 

BEST   AGE   ASD  COSDITIOS  OF    MEATS.  —  STALL-FED  CATTLE 

Demand  my  song  :  Elysian  gales,  adieu  ! 

C.NHEALTnY. 

TCE    CIBCl-I-ATION    OF    THE    BLOOD.— FTS    WASTE    AND    RE- 

Half subtilizcMl  to  chvlo.  the  li<|ui(l  food 

NEWAL.  —  CnifLE. 

Readiest  .il..v-  11,..  a-M„„l;,ti„- P"w,-i-s  ; 

The  blood,  the  fountain  whence  the  spirits  flow, 

Andsoi.ii  tl.r  1,  ,,.],  ,   ,.■■.  i.iM,.  ,,,,,.- 

The  generous  stream  that  waters  every  part. 

Relents  ;  :inil  -.-n  iIm    iMiH,^  nt   11,.,-r  that  tread 

And  motion,  vigor,  and  warm  life,  conveys 

Thostuirllj-i  .:Miii,  n,  ri,;u,.  iIm    ,iv,.,i  abyss. 

To  every  particle  that  moves  or  lives  ; 

Orpathlr,"  -K.i,      \i,.!  ilih-  -i.r,  i.instfall. 

This  vital  fluid,  through  unnumbered  tubes 

Xnyoutli  ;,ii.i  .,M.,iiin..  M-r  1.  I  hnn  .lie; 

'<        Poured  by  the  heart,  and  to  the  heart  again 

Nor  stay  till  ri-i.|  ;l^...  ..r  i,..-uv  :iiN, 

Refunded  ;  scourged  forever  round  and  round  ; 

Absolve  him,  ill  rt-.iuitcd,  from  the  yoke. 

Enraged  with  heat  and  toil,  at  last  forgets 

Some  with  high  forage,  and  luxuriant  case. 

Its  balmy  nature  ;  virulent  and  thin 

Indulge  the  veteran  ox  ;  but  wiser  thou, 

It  grows  ;  and  now,  but  that  a  thousand  gates 

From  the  bald  mountain  or  the  barren  downs. 

:        Are  open  to  its  flight,  it  would  destroy 

Expect  the  flocks  by  frugal  nature  fed  ; 

The  parts  it  cherished  and  repaired  before. 

A  race  of  purer  blood,  with  exercise 

Besides,  the  flexible  and  tender  tubes 

Refined  and  scanty  fare  ;   for,  old  or  young, 

Molt  in  the  mildest,  most  nectareous  tide 

The  stalled  are  never  healthy  ;  nor  the  crammed  : 

That  ripening  nature  rolls  ;  as  in  the  stream 

Not  all  the  culinary  arts  can  tame, 

Its  crumbling  banks  ;  but  what  the  vital  force 

To  wholesome  food,  the  abominable  growth 

Of  plastic  fluids  hourly  batters  down. 

Of  rest  and  gluttony  ;  the  prudent  taste 

That  very  force  those  plastic  particles 

Rejects,  like  bane,  such  loathsome  lusciousness. 

Rebuild  :  so  mutable  the  state  of  man  ! 

For  this  the  watchful  appetite  was  given, 

CSHKALTinSKSS  OF  FAT. 

Daily,  with  fresh  materials,  to  repair 

The  languid  stomach  curses  e'en  the  pure 

This  unavoidable  expense  of  life, 

Delicious  fat,  and  all  the  race  of  oil  : 

This  necessary  waste  of  flesh  and  blood. 

For  more  the  oily  aliments  relax 

Ilenoe  the  concoctive  powers,  with  various  art. 

Its  feeble  tone  ;  and  with  the  eager  lymph 

Subdue  the  cruder  alimenta  to  chyle  ; 

(Fond  to  incorporate  with  all  it  meets) 

The  chyle  to  blood  ;  the  foamy  purple  tide 

Coyly  they  mix,  and  shun  with  slippery  wiles 

To  liquors,  which,  through  finer  arteries, 

The  wooed  embrace.     The  irresoluble  oil, 

To  diSferent  parts  their  winding  course  pursue  ; 

So  gentle  late,  and  blandishing,  in  floods 

To  try  new  changes,  and  now  forms  put  on. 

Of  rancid  bile  o'crflows  :  what  tumults  hence. 

!        Or  for  the  public,  or  some  private  use. 

What  horrors  rise,  were  nauseous  to  relate. 

THE  laborer's  dioestio.1.— ibe  sede.vtakt  mas's  food. 

DIET  PROPER  TO  A   FFLL  HABIT  ;  TO  A  LEAN  ONE. 

Nothing  so  foreign  but  th'  athletic  hind 

Choose  leaner  viands,  ye  whose  jovial  make 

Can  labor  into  blood.     The  hungry  meal 

Too  fast  the  gummy  nutriment  imbibes  : 

Alone  he  fears,  or  aliments  too  thin  ; 

Choose  sober  meals  ;  and  rouse  to  active  life 

By  violent  powers  too  easily  subdued. 

Your  cumbrous  clay  ;  nor  on  the  enfeebling  down, 

200 


EURAL   POETRY.  —  ARMSTRONG. 


Irresolute,  protract  the  morning  hours. 
But  let  the  man  whose  bones  are  thinly  clad 
With  cheerful  ease,  and  succulent  repast. 
Improve  his  slender  habit.     Each  extreme 
From  the  blest  mean  of  sanity  departs. 

miOSYNCnASlES  as  TO   FOOD.  —  NONE  AGREES  WITH   ALL. 

I  could  relate  what  table  this  demands. 
Or  that  complexion  ;  what  the  various  powers 
Of  various  foods  :  but  fifty  years  would  roll. 
And  fifty  more,  before  the  tale  were  done. 
Besides,  there  often  lurks  some  nameless,  strange. 
Peculiar  thing  ;  nor  on  the  sliin  displayed. 
Felt  in  the  pulse,  nor  in  the  habit  seen  ; 
Which  finds  a  poison  in  the  food  that  most 
The  temperature  affects.    There  are,  whose  blood 
Impetuous  rages  through  the  turgid  veins. 
Who  better  bear  the  fiery  fruits  of  Ind, 
Than  the  moist  melon,  or  pale  cucumber. 
Of  chilly  nature,  others  fly  the  board 
Supplied  with  slaughter,  and  the  vernal  powers 

Some  even  tlie  generous  nutriment  detest 

Which,  in  the  shell,  the  sleepiug  embryo  rears. 

Some,  more  unhappy  still,  repent  the  gifts 

Of  Pales  ;   soft,  delicious,  and  benign  : 

The  balmy  quintessence  of  every  flower. 

And  every  grateful  herb  that  decks  the  Spring  ; 

The  fostering  dew  of  tender  sprouting  life  ; 

The  best  refection  of  declining  age  ; 

The  kind  restorative  of  those  who  lie 

Half  dead,  and  panting,  from  the  doubtful  strife 

Of  nature  struggling  in  the  grasp  of  death. 

Try  all  the  bounties  of  this  fertile  globe. 

There  is  not  such  a  salutary  food 

As  suits  with  every  stomach. 

EXPEEIESCE  A  OnDB  AS  TO  FOOD. 

But  — except. 
Amid  the  mingled  mass  of  fish  and  fowl. 
And  boiled  and  baked,  you  hesitate  by  which 
You  sunk  oppressed,  or  whether  not  by  all  — 
Taught  by  experience  soon  you  may  discern 
What  pleases,  what  offends.     Avoid  the  cates 
That  lull  the  sickening  appetite  too  long , 
Or  heave  with  feverish  flushings  all  the  face. 
Burn  in  the  palms,and  parch  the  roughening  tongue ; 
Or  much  diminish,  or  too  much  increase, 
Th'  expense,  which  nature's  wise  economy, 
Without  or  waste  or  avarice,  maintains. 
Such  cates  abjured,  let  prowling  hunger  loose. 
And  bid  the  curious  palate  roam  at  will  ; 
They  scarce  can  err  amid  the  various  stores 
That  burst  the  teeming  entrails  of  the  world. 


INSTINCT  GUIDES  THEM  TO  THEIR   FOOD. 

Led  by  sagacious  taste,  the  ruthless  king 
Of  beasts  on  blood  and  slaughter  only  lives  ; 
The  tiger,  formed  alike  to  cruel  meals. 
Would  at  the  manger  starve  :  of  milder  feeds. 


The  generous  horse  to  herbage  and  to  grain 
Confines  his  wish  ;  though  fabling  Greece  resound 
The  Thraeian  steeds  with  human  carnage  wild. 
Prompted  by  instinct's  never-erring  power, 
Bach  creature  knows  its  proper  aliment  ; 
But  man,  the  inhabitant  of  every  clime, 
With  all  the  commoners  of  nature  feeds. 
Directed,  bounded,  by  this  power  within. 
Their  cravings  are  well  aimed  :  voluptuous  man 
Is  by  superior  faculties  misled  ; 
Misled  from  pleasure  even  in  quest  of  joy. 

TEMPERANCE  IS  TRUE  LUXURY. 

Sated  with  nature's  boons,  what  thousands  seek, 
With  dishes  tortured  from  their  native  taste, 
And  mad  variety,  to  spur  beyond 
Its  wiser  will  the  jaded  appetite  ! 
Is  this  for  pleasure  ?    Learn  a  juster  taste  ; 
And  know  that  temperance  is  true  luxury. 


Or  is  it  pride  ?     Pursue  some  nobler  aim. 
Dismiss  your  parasites,  who  praise  for  hire  ; 
And  earn  the  fair  esteem  of  honest  men,       [yours. 
Whose  praise  is  fame.     Formed  of   such   clay  as 
The  sick,  the  needy,  shiver  at  your  gates. 
E'en  modest  want  may  bless  your  hand  unseen, 
Though  hushed  in  patient  wretchedness  at  home. 
Is  there  no  virgin,  graced  with  every  charm 
But  that  which  binds  the  mercenary  vow  ? 
No  youth  of  genius,  whose  neglected  bloom, 
Unfostered,  sickens  in  the  barren  shade  ? 
No  worthy  man,  by  fortune's  random  blows. 
Or  by  a  heart  too  generous  and  humane. 
Constrained  to  leave  his  happy  natal  seat. 
And  sigh  for  wants  more  bitter  than  his  own  ? 
There  are,  while  human  miseries  abound, 
A  thousand  ways  to  waste  superfluous  wealth, 
Without  one  fool  or  flatterer  at  your  board. 
Without  one  hour  of  sickness  or  disgust. 

TOO     GREAT     VARIETY     AT     A     SIEAL     CONDKJISEB. —CHANGE 
RECOMSfENDED. 

But  Other  ills  the  ambiguous  feast  pursue. 
Besides  provoking  the  lascivious  taste. 
Such  various  foods,  though  harmless  each  alone, 
Each  other  violate  ;  and  oft  we  see 
AVhat  strife  is  brewed,  and  what  pernicious  bane, 
From  combinations  of  innoxious  things. 
Th'  unbounded  taste  I  mean  not  to  confine 
To  hermit's  diet,  needlessly  severe. 
But  would  you  long  the  sweets  of  health  enjoy. 
Or  husband  pleasure  ;  at  one  impious  meal 
E.xhaust  not  half  the  bounties  of  the  year. 
And  of  each  realm.     It  matters  not  meanwhile 
How  much  to-morrow  differ  from  to-day  ; 
So  far  indulge  :  't  is  fit,  besides,  that  man. 
To  change  obnoxious,  be  to  change  inured. 
But  stay  the  curious  appetite,  and  taste 
With  caution  fruits  you  never  tried  before. 


SUMMER  —  JDLT. 


"1 


For  want  of  uso  the  kindest  aliment 

Sometimes  oSbnds  ;  while  custom  tomes  the  rago 

Of  poison  to  mild  amity  with  life. 

KXCKSS  TO  BB  AVOIDED,  ISD  KVKS  SATIETV. 

So  Heaven  has  formed  us  to  the  general  tasto 
Of  nil  its  gifts  ;  so  custom  has  improved 
This  bent  of  nature  ;  that  few  simple  foods, 
Of  all  that  earth,  or  air,  or  oeenn  yield. 
But  by  excess  offend.     Beyond  tho  sense 
Of  light  refection,  at  the  genial  board 
Indulge  not  often  ;  nor  protract  tho  feast 
To  dull  satiety  ;  till  soft  and  slow 
A  drowsy  death  creeps  on,  the  expansive  soul 
Oppressed,  and  smothered  the  celestial  fire. 
The  stomach,  urged  beyond  its  active  tone, 
Hardly  to  nutrimental  chyle  subdues 
Tho  softest  food  :  unfinished  and  depraved, 
Tho  chyle,  in  all  its  future  wanderings,  owns 
Its  turbid  fountain  ;  not  by  purer  streams 
So  to  be  cleared,  but  foulness  will  remain. 
To  sparkling  wine  what  ferment  can  exalt 
The  unripened  grape  7     Or  what  mechanic  skill 
From  the  crude  ore  can  spin  the  ductile  gold  ? 

BIOTL-IO  ASD  ASCCTICISM  EQUALLY  TO   BE  SHUSSED. 


ip  a  wealthy  fund 
Of  plagues  ;  but  more  immedicable  ills 
Attend  the  lean  extreme.     For  physic  knows 
Uow  to  disburden  the  too  tumid  veins. 
Even  how  to  ripen  the  half-labored  blood  : 
But  to  unlock  the  elemental  tubes, 
Collapsed  and  shrunk  with  long  inanity, 
And  with  balsamic  nutriment  repair 
The  dried  and  worn-out  habit,  were  to  bid 
Old  age  grow  green,  and  wear  a  second  spring  ; 
Or  the  tall  ash,  long  ravished  from  the  soil. 
Through  withered  veins  imbibe  the  vernal  dew. 


When  hunger  calls,  obey  ;  nor  often  wait 
Till  hunger  sharpen  to  corrosive  pain  : 
For  the  keen  appetite  will  feast  beyond 
What  nature  well  can  bear  ;  and  one  extreme 
Ne'er  without  danger  meets  its  own  reverse. 
Too  greedily  the  exhausted  veins  absorb 
The  recent  chyle,  and  load  enfeebled  powers, 
Oft  to  the  extinction  of  tho  vital  flame. 
To  tho  pale  cities,  by  tho  firm-set  siege. 
And  famine,  humbled,  may  this  verso  be  borne  ; 
And  hear,  ye  hardiest  sons  that  Albion  breeds. 
Long  tossed  and  famished  on  the  wintry  main  ; 
Tho  war  shook  off,  or  hospitable  shore 
Attained,  with  temperance  bear  the  shook  of  joy  ; 
Nor  crown  with  festive  rites  tho  auspicious  day  ; 
Such  feast  might  prove  more  fatal  than  tho  waves. 
Than  war,  or  famine.     While  the  vital  fire 
Burns  feebly,  heap  not  the  green  fuel  on  ; 
But  prudently  foment  the  wandering  spark 
With  what  the  soonest  feels  its  kindred  touch  : 


Bo  frugal  even  of  that ;  a  little  give 
At  first ;  that  kindled,  add  a  little  more  ; 
Till,  by  deliberate  nourishing,  the  flame 
Revived,  with  all  iU  wonted  vigor  glows. 

CBAXOE  ORADCALLr.  —  AB3TAIS  WIIES  NATCBB  U1ST3 

But  though  tho  two  (tho  full  and  the  jejune) 
Extremes  have  each  their  vice  ;  it  much  avails 
Ever  with  gentle  tide  to  ebb  and  flow 
From  this  to  that :  so  nature  learns  to  bear 
Whatever  chance  or  headlong  appetite 
May  bring.     Besides,  a  meagre  day  subdues 
Tho  cruder  clods  by  sloth  or  luxury 
Collected,  and  unloads  tho  wheels  of  life. 
Sometimes  a  coy  aversion  to  the  feast 
Comes  on,  while  yet  no  blacker  omen  lowers  ; 
Then  is  a  time  to  shun  the  tempting  board. 
Wore  it  your  natal  or  your  nuptial  day. 
Perhaps  a  fast  so  seasonable  starves 
The  latent  seeds  of  woe,  which,  rooted  onco. 
Might  cost  you  labor. 


But  the  day  returned 
Of  festal  luxury,  the  wise  indulge 
Most  in  the  tender,  vegetable  breed  ; 
Then  chiefly  when  the  Summer  beams  inflame 
The  brazen  heavens  ;  or  angry  Sirius  .'^heils 
A  feverish  taint  through  the  still  gulf  of  air. 
The  moist  cool  viands  then,  and  flowing  cup 
From  tho  fresh  dairy-virgin's  liberal  hand,     [world 
Will  save  your  head  from  harm,  though  round  the 
The  dreaded '  Causos  roll  his  wasteful  fires. 


Pale  humid  Winter  loves  the  generous  hoard. 
The  meal  more  copious,  and  a  warmer  fare  ; 
And  longs  with  old  wood  and  old  wine  to  cheor 
His  quaking  heart.     Tho  seasons  which  divide 
The  empires  of  heat  and  cold  ;  by  neither  claimed. 
Influenced  by  both,  a  middle  regimen 
Impose.     Through  autumn's  languishing  domain 
Descending,  nature  by  degrees  invites 
To  glowing  luxury.     But,  from  tho  depth 
Of  Winter  when  the  invigorated  year 
Emerges  ;  when  Favonius,  flushed  with  love, 
Toyful  and  young,  in  every  breeze  descends 
More  warm  and  wanton  on  his  kindling  bride  ; 
Then,  shepherds,  then  begin  to  spare  your  flocks  ; 
And  learn,  with  wise  humanity,  to  cheek 
The  lust  of  blood.     Now  pregnant  earth  commits 
A  various  offspring  to  tho  indulgent  sky  ; 
Now  bounteous  nature  feeds  with  lavish  hand 
The  prone  creation  ;  yields  what  once  sufficed 
Their  dainty  sovereign,  when  the  world  was  young; 
1  Ere  yet  tho  barbarous  thirst  of  blood  had  seized 
The  human  breast.     Each  rolling  month  matures 
The  food  that  suits  it  most ;  so  does  each  elime. 

I  1  The  burning  fever. 


202 


RURAL    POETRY. ARMSTRONG. 


Far  in  the  horrid  realms  of  winter,  where 
The  established  ocean  heaps  a  monstrous  waste 
Of  shining  rocks  and  mountains  to  the  pole  ; 
There  lives  a  hardy  race,  whose  plainest  wants 
Relentless  earth,  their  cruel  step-mother, 
Regards  not.     On  the  waste  of  iron  fields, 
Untamed,  intractable,  no  harvests  wave  : 
Pomona  hates  them,  and  the  clownish  god 
Who  tends  the  garden.     In  this  frozen  world 
Such  cooling  gifts  were  vain  :  a  fitter  meal 
Is  earned  with  ease  ;  for  here  the  fruitful  spawn 
Of  Ocean  swarms,  and  heaps  their  genial  board 
With  generous  fare,  and  luxury  profuse. 
These  are  their  bread,  the  only  bread  they  know  ; 
These,  and  their  willing  slave  the  deer,  that  crops 
The  scrubby  herbage  on  their  meagre  hills. 
Or  scales,  for  fattening  moss,  the  savage  rocks. 


APPLES.  —  Acms.  - 


PALMS ;     PLAN- 


Girt  by  the  burning  zone,  not  thus  the  south 
Her  swarthy  sons,  in  either  Ind,  maintains  ; 
Or  thirsty  Libya  ;  from  whose  fervid  loins 
The  lion  bursts,  and  every  fiend  that  roams 
The  affrighted  wilderness.     The  mountain  herd. 
Adust  and  dry,  no  sweet  repast  affords  ; 
Nor  does  the  tepid  main  such  kinds  produce, 
So  perfect,  so  delicious,  as  the  shoals 
Of  icy  Zembla.     Rashly  where  the  blood 
Brews  feverish  frays ;  where  scarce  the  tubes  sustain 
Its  tumid  fervor  and  tempestuous  course  ; 
Kind  nature  tempts  not  to  such  gifts  as  these. 
But  here  in  livid  ripeness  melts  the  grape  ; 
Here,  finished  by  invigorating  suns. 
Through  the  green  shade  the  golden  orange  glows  ; 
Spontaneous  here  the  turgid  melon  yields 
A  generous  pulp  ;  the  cocoa  swells  on  high 
With  milky  riches  ;  and  in  horrid  mail 
The  crisp  ananas  wraps  its  poignant  sweets  : 
Earth's  vaunted  progeny  !  —  in  ruder  air 
Too  coy  to  flourish,  e'en  too  proud  to  live  ; 
Or  hardly  raised  by  artificial  fire 
To  vapid  life.     Here  with  a  mother's  smile 
Glad  Amalthea  pours  her  copious  horn  ; 
Here  buxom  Ceres  reigns  ;  the  autumnal  sea 
In  boundless  billows  fluctuates  o'er  their  plains. 
What  suits  the  climate  best,  what  suits  the  men, 
Nature  profuses  most,  and  most  the  taste 
Demands.     The  fountain,  edged  with  racy  wine 
Or  acid  fruit,  bedews  their  thirsty  souls. 
The  breeze  eternal  breathing  round  their  limbs 
Supports  in  else  intolerable  air  : 
While  the  cool  palm,  the  plantain,  and  the  grove 
That  waves  on  gloomy  Lebanon,  assuage 
The  torrid  hell  that  beams  upon  their  heads. 


Now  let  me  wander  through  your  gelid  reign  : 

I  burn  to  view  the  enthusiastic  wilds 

By  mortal  else  untrod.     I  hear  the  din 

Of  waters  thundering,  o'er  the  ruined  cliffs. 

With  holy  reverence  I  approach  the  rocks 

Whence  glide  the  streams  renowned  in  ancient  song. 

Here  from  the  desert  down  the  rumbling  steep 

First  springs  the  Nile  ;  here  bursts  the  sounding  Po 

In  angry  waves  ;  Euphrates  hence  devolves 

A  mighty  flood  to  water  half  the  East ; 

And  there,  in  Gothic  solitude  reclined. 

The  cheerless  Tanais  pours  his  hoary  urn. 

What  solemn  twilight !     What  stupendous  shades 

Enwrap  these  infant  floods  !     Through  every  nerve 

A  sacred  horror  thrills,  a  pleasing  fear 

Glides  o'er  my  frame.     The  forest  deepens  round  ; 

And  more  gigantic  still  the  impending  trees 

Stretch  their  extravagant  arms  athwart  the  gloom  ! 

Are  these  the  confines  of  some  fairy  world  ? 
A  land  of  Genii  ?     Say,  beyond  these  wilds 
What  unknown  nations  ?     If  indeed  beyond 
Aught  habitable  lies.     And  whither  leads, 
To  what  strange  regions,  or  of  bliss  or  pain. 
That  subterraneous  way  ?     Propitious  Maids, 
Conduct  me,  while  with  fearful  steps  I  tread 
This  trembling  ground.     The  task  remains  to  sing 
Your  gifts  (so  Pteon,  so  the  powers  of  health 
Command),  to  praise  your  crystal  element. 
The  chief  ingredient  in  heaven's  various  works  ; 
Whose  flexile  genius  sparkles  in  the  gem, 
Grows  firm  in  oak,  and  fugitive  in  wine  ; 
The  vehicle,  the  source  of  nutriment 
And  life,  to  all  that  vegetate  or  live. 

COLD    WATER  THE  BEST   OP  DKINKS.  — THE  GOLDEN   AGE. 

0  comfortable  streams  !  with  eager  lips 
And  trembling  hand  the  languid  thirsty  quaff 
New  life  in  you  ;  fresh  vigor  fills  their  veins. 
No  warmer  cups  the  rural  ages  knew  ; 
None  warmer  sought  the  sires  of  human  kind. 
Happy  in  temperate  peace  !     Their  equal  days 
Felt  not  the  alternate  fits  of  feverish  mirth 
And  sick  dejection.     Still  serene  and  pleased. 
They  knew  no  pains  but  what  the  tender  soul 
With  pleasure  yields  to,  and  would  ne'er  forget. 
Blest  with  divine  immunity  from  ails. 
Long  centuries  they  lived  ;  their  only  fato 
Was  ripe  old  age,  and  rather  sleep  than  death. 
0  !  could  those  worthies  from  the  world  of  gods 
Return  to  visit  their  degenerate  sons. 
How  would  they  scorn  the  joys  of  modern  time 
With  all  our  art  and  toil  improved  to  pain  ! 
Too  happy  they  !     But  wealth  brought  luxury. 
And  luxury  on  sloth  begot  disease. 

REASONS  OF  mPPOCRATES   IS    FAVOR  OF   WATER   BEVERAGE. 

Learn  temperance,  friends  !  and  hear  without  dis- 
The  choice  of  water.     Thus  the  Coan '  sage;     [dain 


Now  come,  ye  Naiads,  to  the  fountains  lead  ; 


Opined,  and  thus  the  learned  of  every  school. 

Wliiit  least  of  foreign  principles  partakes 

Is  best :  the  lightest  then  ;  what  bears  the  touch 

Of  fire  the  least,  and  soonest  mounts  in  air  ; 

The  most  insipid  ;  the  most  void  of  smell. 

Such  the  rude  mountain  from  his  horrid  sides 

Pours  down  ;  such  waters  in  the  sandy  valo 

Forever  boil,  alike  of  winter's  frost 

And  summer's  heat  secure.     The  crystal  stream, 

Through  rooks  resounding,  or  for  many  a  mile 

O'er  the  chafed  pebbles  hurled,  yields  wholesom< 

pure. 
And  mellow  draughts  ;  except  when  winter  thawSj 
And  half  the  mountains  melt  into  the  tide. 


Though  thirst  we  e'e 
The  sordid  lake,  and  all  such  drowsy  floods 
As  fill  from  Lethe  Belgia's  slow  canals 
(With  rest,  corrupt,  with  vcgctfition  green  ; 
Squalid  ni>h  _-,,„,,, II.,,,,  ,,,1.1  the  birth 
Oflittl.'  ni    ,       ,    I      ,    :  liii   |.uw.Tuffiro 
Has  froiij  i  ,    :  ,,.     ,  .,,    :  ,  ,  •  .list-ngagcd 
The  viulau-.i  i.t.i.|.ii.      UiL-  lirgin  stream 
In  boiling  wastes  its  finer  soul  in  air. 

USE  OP  WISE  AND  rERJIESTED  DRI.SKS. 

Nothing  like  simple  clement  dilutes 
The  food,  or  gives  the  chyle  so  soon  to  flow. 
But  where  the  stomach,  indolent  and  cold. 
Toys  with  its  duty,  animate  with  wine 
The  insipid  stream  ;  the  golden  Ceres  yields 
A  more  voluptuous,  a  more  sprightly  draught ; 
Perhaps  more  active.     Wine  unmixed,  and  all 
The  gluey  floods  that  from  the  vexed  abyss 
Of  fermentation  spring  ;  with  spirit  fraught, 
And  furious  with  intoxicating  fire  ; 
Retard  concoction,  and  preserve  unthawcd 
The  embodied  mass.     You  see  what  countless  years 
Embalmed  in  fiery  quintessence  of  wine. 
The  puny  wonders  of  the  reptile  world. 
The  tender  rudiments  of  life,  the  slim 
Unravellinga  of  minute  anatomy. 
Maintain  their  texture,  and  unchanged  remain. 


We  curse  not  wine  :  the  vile  excess  we  blame 
More  fruitful  than  the  accumulated  hoard 
Of  pain  and  misery.     l''or  the  subtle  draught 
Faster  and  surer  swells  the  vital  tide  ; 
And  with  more  active  poison  than  the  floods 
Of  grosser  crudity  convoy  pervades 
The  far-remote  meanders  of  our  frame. 
Ah  !  sly  deceiver  !  branded  o'er  and  o'er. 
Yet  still  believed  !  exulting  o'er  the  wreck 
Of  sober  vows  !  —  But  the  Parnassian  maids. 
Another  time,'  perhaps,  shall  sing  the  joys. 
The  fatal  charms,  the  many  woes  of  wine  ; 
Perhaps  its  various  tribes,  and  various  powers. 


BOW,  wms,  ASn  where,  to  isdilob  is  wise. 
Meantime,  I  would  not  always  dread  the  bowl. 
Nor  every  trespass  shun.     The  feverish  strife. 
Roused  by  the  rare  debauch,  subdues,  expels. 
The  loitering  crudities  that  burden  life  ; 
And,  like  a  torrent  full  and  rapid,  clears 
The  obstructed  tubes.     Besides,  this  restless  world 
Is  full  of  chances,  which  by  habit's  power 
To  learn  to  bear  is  easier  than  to  shun. 
Ah  !  when  ambition,  meagre  love  of  gold, 
Or  sacred  country,  calls,  with  mellowing  wine 
To  moisten  well  the  thirsty  suffrages  : 
Say  how,  unseasoned  to  the  midnight  frays 
Of  Comus  and  his  rout,  wilt  thou  contend 
With  Centaurs  long  to  hardy  deeds  inured? 
Then  learn  to  revel  ;  but  by  slow  degrees  : 
By  slow  degrees  the  liberal  arts  arc  won  ; 
And  Hercules  grew  strong.     But  when  you  smooth 
The  brows  of  care,  indulge  your  festive  vein 
In  cups  by  well-informed  experience  found 
The  least  your  bane  ;  and  only  with  your  friends. 
There  are  sweet  follies  :  frailties  to  be  seen 
By  friends  alone,  and  men  of  generous  minds. 


0  !  seldom  may  the  fated  hours  return 
Of  drinking  deep  !     I  would  not  daily  taste. 
Except  when  life  declines,  oven  sober  cups. 
Weak,  withering  age  no  rigid  law  forbids. 
With  frugal  nectar,  smooth  and  slow  with  halm, 
The  sapless  habit  daily  to  bedew. 
And  give  the  hesitating  wheels  of  life 
Gliblicr  to  play.     But  youth  has  better  joys  : 
And  is  it  wise,  when  youth  with  pleasure  flows. 
To  squander  the  reliefs  of  age  and  pain  ? 

excess  in  WI.-iE,  OR  FOOD,  OR    Wi 


What  dextrous  thousands  just  within  the  goal 
Of  wild  debauch  direct  their  nightly  course  ? 
Perhaps  no  sickly  qualms  bedim  their  days. 
No  morning  admonitions  shock  the  head. 
But,  ah  !  what  woes  remain  !  life  rolls  apace. 
And  that  incurable  disease,  old  age, 
In  youthful  bodies  more  severely  felt, 
More  sternly  active,  shakes  their  blasted  prime  : 
Except  kind  nature  by  some  hasty  blow 
Prevent  the  lingering  fates.     For  know  whate'er 
Beyond  it^  natural  fervor  hurries  on 
The  sanguine  tide  ;  whether  the  frequent  bowl. 
High-seasoned  fare,  or  exercise  to  toil 
Protracted  ;  spurs  to  its  last  stage  tired  life, 
And  sows  the  temples  with  untimely  snow. 


LIKE   STOPS. 

When  life  is  new,  the  ductile  fibres  feel 
The  heart's  increasing  force  ;  and,  day  by  day. 
The  growth  advances  ;  till  the  larger  tubes. 
Acquiring  (from  their  elemental '  veins, 


1  See  Armstrong's  *  Art  of  I 


'Thel 


,al8,  the  larger  t 


1  body,  as  well  as  In  the  I: 


KURAL   POETRY. ARMSTRONG. 


Condensed  to  solid  chords)  a  firmer  tone, 

Sustain,  and  just  sustain,  the  impetuous  blood. 

Here  stops  the  growth.     With  overbearing  pulse 

And  pressure,  still  the  great  destroy  the  small  ; 

Still  with  the  ruins  of  the  small  grow  strong. 

Life  glows  meantime,  amid  the  grinding  force 

Of  viscous  6uids  and  elastic  tubes  ; 

Its  various  functions  vigorously  are  plied 

By  strong  machinery  ;   and  in  solid  health 

The  man  confirmed  long  triumphs  o'er  disease. 

But  the  full  ocean  ebbs  ;  there  is  a  point. 

By  nature  fixed,  whence  life  must  downward  tend. 

For  still  the  beating  tide  consolidates 

The  stubborn  vessels,  more  reluctant  still 

To  the  weak  throbs  of  the  ill-supported  heart. 

This  languishing,  these  strengthening  by  degrees 

To  hard,  unyielding,  unelastic  bone, 

Through  tedious  channels  the  congealing  flood 

Crawls  lazily,  and  hardly  wanders  on  ; 

It  loiters  still  :  and  now  it  stirs  no  more. 

This  is  the  period  few  attain  ;  the  death 

Of  nature  ;  thus  (so  Heaven  ordained  it)  life 

which,  by  the  violent  motion  and  pressure  of  the  fluids  in 
the  large  vessels,  lose  their  cavities  by  degrees,  and  degene- 
rate into  impervious  chords  or  fibres.  In  proportion  as 
these  small  vessels  become  solid,  the  larger  must  of  course 
grow  less  extensile,  more  rigid,  and  malie  a  stronger  resist- 
ance to  the  action  of  the  heart,  and  force  of  the  blood. 
From  this  gradual  condensation  of  the  smaller  vessels,  and 
consequent  rigidity  of  the  larger  ones,  the  progress  of  the 
human  body,  from  infancy  to  old  age,  is  accounted  for. 


Destroys  itself  ;  and  could  these  laws  have  changed, 
Nestor  might  now  the  fates  of  Troy  relate  ; 
And  Homer  live  immortal  as  his  song. 


so  DO  HIS '  WORKS,  GRADDALLY  TEND 
N  END.  —  BAHVLON  ;  GREECE  ",  ROME  ;  EGYP' 
ALTERNATIONS    OF    LIFE   AND   DEATH. 


PROGRESS 

What  does  not  fade  ?     The  tower  that  long  had 
The  crash  of  thunder  and  the  warring  winds,    [stood 
Shook  by  the  slow  but  sure  destroyer.  Time, 
Now  hangs  in  doubtful  ruins  o'er  its  base. 
And  flinty  pyramids,  and  walls  of  brass. 
Descend  :  the  Babylonian  spires  are  sunk  ; 
Aehaia,  Rome,  and  Egypt,  moulder  down. 
TiiJi'-  -li;k1ii>  Ihr  flahle  tyranny  of  thrones, 
And  l.ill<'i  iiiL'  'iiii'Mrs  rush  by  their  own  weight. 
Till-  Iniii    iMhiii'litv  we  tread  grows  old, 
And  all  tli"-r  \v"rMs  that  roll  around  the  Sun, 
The  Sun  himself,  shall  die,  and  ancient  Night 
Again  involve  the  desolate  abyss  : 
Till  the  great  Father  through  the  lifeless  gloom 
E.\tend  his  arm  to  light  another  world. 
And  bid  new  planets  roll  by  other  laws. 
For  through  the  regions  of  unbounded  space, 
Where  unoonfined  Omnipotence  has  room, 
Being,  in  various  systems,  fluctuates  still 
Between  creation  and  abhorred  decay  : 
It  ever  did  :  perhaps  and  ever  will. 
New  worlds  are  still  emerging  from  the  deep  ; 
The  old  descending,  in  their  turns  to  rise. 


®;usstr's   ''lulu's    ljushiuiirii/ 


No  tempest,  good  July,  Forgotten  month  past, 

Lest  corn  all  look  ruly.  Do  now  at  the  last. 

Go  muster  thy  servants,  be  captain  thyself. 
Providing  them  weapons,  and  other  like  pelf  : 
Get  bottles  and  wallets,  keep  field  in  the  heat. 
The  fear  is  as  much  as  the  danger  is  great. 
With  tossing  and  raking,  and  setting  on  cocks. 
Grass  lately  in  swathes  is  hay  for  an  ox  : 
That  done,  go  and  cart  it,  and  have  it  away, 
The  battle  is  fought,  ye  have  gotten  the  day. 
Pay  justly  thy  tithes,  whatsoever  thou  bo. 
That  God  may,  in  blessing,  send  foison  to  thee  : 
Though  vicar  be  bad,  or  the  parson  as  evil, 
Go  not  for  thy  tithing  thyself  to  the  devil. 
Let  hay  be  well  made,  or  avise  else  a  vous,^ 
For  moulding  in  now,  or  of  firing  the  house. 
Lay  warsest  aside,  for  the  ox  and  the  cow, 
The  finest  for  sheep  and  thy  gelding  allow. 
Then  down  with  the  headlands,  that  groweth  about. 
Leave  never  a  dallop,^  unmown  and  had  out ; 
Though  grass  be  but  thin  about  barley  and  pease. 
Yet  picked  up  clean,  ye  sh.all  find  therein  ease. 
Thryfnllow  betime,  for  destroying  of  weed. 
Lest  thistle  and  dock  fall  a  blooming  and  seed  : 
Such  season  may  chance,  it  shall  stand  thee  upon, 
To  till  it  again,  ere  a  summer  be  gone. 


Not  rent  off,  but  cut  off,  ripe  bean  with  a  knife, 
For  hindering  stalk,  of  her  vegetive  life. 
So  gather  the  lowest,  and  leaving  the  top. 
Shall  teach  thee  a  trick,  for  to  double  thy  crop. 
Wife,  pluck  fro  thy  seed  hemp  the  fimble  hemp  clean. 
This  looketh  more  yellow,  the  other  more  green  : 
Use  t'  one  for  thy  spinning,  leave  Michell  the  t'  other, 
For  shoe-thread  and  halter,  for  rope  and  such  other. 
Now  pluck  up  thy  flax,  for  the  maidens  to  spin, 
First  see  it  dried,  and  timely  got  in  : 
And  mow  up  thy  brank,^  and  away  with  it  dry, 
And  house  it  up  close,  out  of  danger  to  lie. 
While  wormwood  hath  seed,  get  a  handful  or  twain, 
To  save  against  March,  to  make  flea  to  refrain  : 
When  chamber  is  sweeped,  and  wormwood  is  strown, 
No  flea,  for  his  life,  dare  .abide  to  be  known. 
What  savor  is  bettor,  if  physic  be  true. 
For  places  infected,  than  wormwood  and  rue? 
It  is  as  a  comfort  for  heart  and  the  brain. 
And  therefore  to  have  it,  it  is  not  in  vain. 
Get  grist  to  the  mill  to  have  plenty  in  store. 
Lest  miller  lack  water,  as  many  do  more. 
The  meal  the  more  yieldeth  if  servant  be  true, 
And  miller  that  tolleth  take  none  but  his  due. 
1  Assure  yourself.    "  Patch  unploughed.    s  Buckwheat. 


plural  (i>hs  for  3tu(i). 


BRYANT'S  "AFTKll  A  TEMPEST." 
The  day  had  been  a  day  of  wind  and  storm  ;  — 

The  wind  was  laid,  the  storm  was  overpast,  — 
And  stooping  from  the  zenith,  bright  and  warm. 

Shone  the  great  sun  on  the  wide  earth,  at  last. 

I  stood  upon  the  upland  slope,  and  east 
My  eye  upon  a  broad  and  beauteous  scene, 

Where  the  vast  plain  lay  girt  by  mountains  vast, 
And  hills  o'er  hills  lifted  their  heads  of  green, 
With  pleasant  vales  seooped  outand  villages  between. 
The 


•drops  gli- 
Whose  shadow?  ■ 
,ve  when  a  show' 
Was  shaken  by  I 
Forbirdswere  wi 


M   I ■  iiround, 

I .  not  stirred, 

.;n!l.,l  IM; 
111,  and  bees  wore  heard 


About  the  flowers  ;  the  cheerful  rivulet  sung 

And  gossiped,  as  be  hastened  ocean-ward  ; 
To  the  gray  oak  the  squirrel,  chiding,  clung. 
And  chirping  from  the  ground  the  grasshopper  up- 
sprung. 
And  from  beneath  the  leaves  that  kept  them  dry 

Flew  many  a  glittering  insect  here  and  there, 
And  darted  up  and  down  the  butterfly. 

That  seemed  a  living  blossom  of  the  air. 

The  flocks  came  scattering  from  the  thicket,  where 
The  violent  rain  had  pent  them,  in  the  way 

Strolled  groups  of  damsels  frolicsome  and  fair, 
The  farmer  swung  the  scythe  or  turned  the  hay. 
And  'twi.\t  the  heavy  swaths  his  children  wore  at 

play. 
It  was  a  scene  of  peace — and,  like  a  spell, 

Did  that  serene  and -golden  sunlight  fall 
Upon  the  motionless  wood  that  clothed  the  coll, 

And  precipice  upspringing  like  a  wall. 

And  glassy  river  and  white  waterfall. 
And  happy  living  things  that  trod  the  bright 

And  beauteous  scene  ;  while,  far  beyond  them  all, 
On  many  a  lovely  valley,  out  of  sight. 
Was  poured  from  the  blue  heavens  the  same  soft 

golden  light. 
I  looked,  and  thought  the  quiet  of  the  scene 

An  emblem  of  the  peace  that  yet  shall  be, 
When  o'er  earth's  continents  and  isles  between 

The  noise  of  war  shall  cease  from  sea  to  sea. 

And  married  nations  dwell  in  harmony. 
When  millions,  crouching  in  the  dust  to  one. 

No  more  shall  beg  their  lives  on  bended  knee. 
Nor  the  black  stake  be  dressed,  nor  in  the  sun 
The  o'crlabored  captive  toil,  and  wish  his  life  were 


Too  long  at  clash  of  arms  amid  her  bower:', 
And  pools  of  blood,  the  earth  has  stood  aghast. 

The  fair  earth,  that  should  only  blush  with  flowers 
And  ru.l.lv  fi  iiits  ;  but  not  for  aye  can  last 
TIm    I     I!  .1-  i    .1   .  t  tlic  sunshine  when 't  is  past; 

L<i,  II,  n  —they  break— they  fly, 

Ai)l    i  u.  light  of  Summer,  cast 

O'tT  til'   ^^  I  I     I  Mii    ,4,1,  Irom  the  embracing  sky, 

On  all  the  peaceful  world  the  smile  of  Heaven  shall 
lie. 


ROGERS'S  "RUR.VL  RETREAT." 
Mine  be  a  cot  beside  the  hill ; 

A  bee-hive's  hum  shall  soothe  my  car  ; 
A  willowy  brook^  that  turns  a  mill. 

With  many  a  fall,  shall  linger  near. 
The  swallow,  oft,  beneath  my  thatch. 

Shall  twitter  from  her  clay-built  nest  ; 
Oft  shall  the  pilgrim  lift  the  latch, 

And  share  my  meal,  a  welcome  guest. 
Around  my  ivied  porch  shall  spring 

Each  fragrant  flower  that  drinks  the  dew  ; 
And  Lucy,  at  her  wheel,  shall  sing. 

In  russet-gown  and  apron  blue. 
The  village  church,  among  the  trees, 

Where  first  our  marriage  vows  were  given 
With  merry  peals  shall  swell  the  breeze. 

And  point  with  taper  spire  to  heaven. 


LONGFELLOW'S  "ANGLER'S  SONG.' 

From  the  river's  plashy  bank. 

Where  the  sedge  grows  green  and  rank. 

And  the  txvisted  woodbine  springs. 
Upward  speeds  the  morning  lark 
To  its  silver  cloud  —  and  hark  ! 

On  his  way  the  woodman  sings. 

On  the  dim  and  misty  lakes 
Gloriously  the  morning  breaks. 

And  the  eagle  's  on  his  cloud  :  — 
Whilst  the  wind,  with  sighing,  woos 
To  its  arms  the  chaste  cold  ooze, 

And  the  rustling  reeds  pipe  loud. 

Where  the  embracing  ivy  holds 
Close  the  hoar  elm  in  its  folds, 

In  the  meadow's  fenny  land? 
And  the  winding  river  sweeps 
Through  its  shallows  and  still  deeps, — 

Silent  with  my  rod  I  stand. 


206 


RURAL   POETRY.  —  DRAYTON  —  BRYANT. 


But  when  sultry  suns  are  high 
Underneath  the  oak  I  lie, 

As  it  shades  the  water's  edge, 
And  I  mark  my  line,  away 
In  the  wheeling  eddy,  play. 

Tangling  with  the  river  sedge. 

When  the  eye  of  erening  looks 

On  green  woods  and  winding  brooks, 

And  the  wind  sighs  o'er  the  lea,  — 
Woods  and  streams,  I  leave  you  then, 
While  the  shadow  in  the  glen 

Lengthens  by  the  greenwood  tree. 


DRAYTON'S  "  BOUQUET." 

Hebe,  damask  roses,  white  and  red. 

Out  of  ray  lap  first  take  I, 
Which  still  shall  run  along  the  thread  ; 

My  ohiefest  flower  this  make  I. 

Among  these  roses  in  a  row 
Next  place  I  pinks  in  plenty  ; 

These  double  pansies  then,  for  show, 
And  will  not  this  be  dainty  ? 

The  pretty  pansy  then  I  '11  tie 

Like  stones  some  chain  enchasing  ; 

And  next  to  them,  their  near  ally. 
The  purple  violet,  placing. 

The  curious,  choice  clove  July-flower, 
Whose  kind,  hight  the  carnation. 

For  sweetness  of  most  sovereign  power. 
Shall  help  my  wreath  to  fashion  ; 

Whose  sundry  colors  of  one  kind. 

First  from  one  root  derived, 
Them  in  their  several  suits  I  'II  bind  ; 

My  garland  so  contrived. 

A  course  of  cowslips  then  I  '11  stick, 
And  here  and  there  (so  sparely) 

The  pleasant  primrose  down  I'll  prick. 
Like  pearls  that  will  show  rarely  ; 

Then  with  these  marigolds  I  '11  make 
My  garland  somewhat  swelling  ; 

These  honeysuckles  then  I  'II  take. 

Whose  sweets  shall  help  their  smelling. 

The  lily  and  the  fleur-de-lis. 

For  color  much  contending. 
For  that  I  them  do  only  prize. 

They  arc  but  poor  in  scenting  ; 

The  dafibdil  most  dainty  is. 

To  match  with  these  in  meetness  ; 
,  compared  to  this, 
1  alike  for  sweetness. 


These  in  their  natures  only  are 
Fit  to  emboss  the  border  ; 

Therefore  I  '11  take  especial  care 
To  place  theni  in  their  order  : 

Sweet-williams,  campions,  sops-in- 
One  by  another  neatly  : 

Thus  have  I  made  this  wreath  of  i 
And  finished  it  featly. 


BRYANT'S  "SUMMER  mND." 

It  is  a  sultry  day  ;  the  sun  has  drunk 
The  dew  that  lay  upon  the  morning  grass. 
There  is  no  rustling  in  the  lofty  elm 
That  canopies  my  dwelling,  and  its  shade 
Scarce  cools  me.     All  is  silent  save  the  faint 
And  interrupted  murmur  of  the  bee. 
Settling  on  the  sick  flowers,  and  then  again 
Instantly  on  the  wing.     The  plants  around 
Feel  the  too  potent  fervors  ;  the  tall  maize 
Rolls  up  its  long  green  leaves  ;  the  clover  droops 
Its  tender  foliage,  and  declines  its  blooms. 
But  far  in  the  fierce  sunshine  tower  the  hills. 
With  all  their  growth  of  woods,  silent  and  stern, 
As  if  the  scorching  heat  and  dazzling  light 
Were  but  an  element  they  loved.     Bright  clouds. 
Motionless  pillars  of  the  brazen  heaven,  — 
Their  bases  on  the  mountains  —  their  white  tops 
Shining  in  the  far  ether  —  fire  the  air 
With  a  reflected  radiance,  and  make  turn 
The  gazer's  eye  away.     For  mo,  I  lie 
Languidly  in  the  shade,  where  the  thick  turf, 
Yet  virgin  from  the  kisses  of  the  sun. 
Retains  some  freshness,  and  I  woo  the  wind 
That  still  delays  its  coming.     Why  so  slow, 
Gentle  and  voluble  spirit  of  the  air? 
0  come  and  breathe  upon  the  fainting  earth 
Coolness  and  life.     Is  it  that  in  his  caves 
He  hears  me  ?     See,  on  yonder  woody  ridge. 
The  pine  is  bending  his  proud  top,  and  now. 
Among  the  nearer  groves,  chestnut  and  oak 
Are  tossing  their  green  boughs  about.     He  comes 
Lo,  where  the  grassy  meadow  runs  in  waves  ! 
The  deep,  distressful  silence  of  the  scene 
Breaks  up  with  mingling  of  unnumbered  sounds 
And  universal  motion.     He  is  come. 
Shaking  a  shower  of  blossoms  from  the  shrubs 
And  bearing  on  their  fragrance  ;  and  he  brings 
Music  of  birds,  and  rustling  of  young  boughs, 
And  sound  of  swaying  branches,  and  the  voice 
Of  distant  waterfalls.     All  the  green  herbs 
Are  stirring  in  his  breath  ;  a  thousand  flowers. 
By  the  road-side  and  the  borders  of  the  brook. 
Nod  gayly  to  each  other  ;  glossy  leaves 
Are  twinkling  in  the  sun,  as  if  the  dew 
Were  on  them  yet,  and  silver  waters  break 
Into  small  waves  and  sparkle  as  he  comes. 


Uiniil's    "anoniics 


lASSLATEI)  FUOM  THE  LATIN  UY  DRYDEN. 


The  poet.  In  the  b. 
ernl  design  of  c 
tion  of  all  the  f 
ject,  he  address^; 


to  different  soils,  tiiii<- 
gives  a  catalogue  of  tin 
the  employments  jwculii 
changes  of  the  weatlier, 
earth  that  forehwle  them 


safety  of  Augustus,  and  tlie  preservation  of  Rome. 


What  makes  a  plenteous  harvest,  when  to  turn 
The  fruitful  soil,  and  when  to  sow  the  corn  ; 
The  caro  of  sheep,  of  oxen,  and  of  kine  ; 
And  how  to  raise  on  elms  the  teeming  vine  ; 
The  birth  and  genius  of  the  frugal  bee, 
I  sing,  Maecenas,  and  I  sing  to  thee. 


Ye  deities  !  who  fields  and  plains  protect, 
Who  rule  the  seasons,  and  the  year  direct ; 
Bacchus  and  fostering  Ceres,  powers  divine, 
Who  gave  us  corn  for  mast,  for  water  wine  : 
Ye  fauns,  propitious  to  the  rural  swains, 
Ye  nymphs  that  haunt  the  mountains  and  the  plains. 
Join  in  my  work,  and  to  my  numbers  bring 
Your  needful  succor,  for  your  gifts  I  sing. 
And  thou,  whose  trident  struck  the  teeming  earth, 
And  made  a  passage  for  the  courser's  birth  ; 
And  thou,  for  whom  the  Cajan  shore  sustains 
Thy  milky  herds,  that  graze  the  flowery  plains  : 
And  thou,  the  shepherd's  tutelary  god, 
Leave,  for  a  while,  0  Pan  !  thy  loved  abode  ; 
And,  if  Arcadian  fleeces  be  thy  care, 
From  fields  and  mountains  to  my  song  repair. 
Inventor,  Pallas,  of  the  fattening  oil. 
Thou  founder  of  the  plough  and  ploughman's  toil  ; 
And  thou,  whose  hands  the  shroud-like  cypress  rear ; 
Come,  all  ye  gods  and  goddesses,  that  wear 
The  rural  honors,  and  increase  the  year. 
Yon,  who  supply  the  ground  with  seeds  of  grain  ; 
And  you,  who  swell  those  seeds  with  kindly  rain  : 

INVOCATION  TO  THB  EMPKBOR  AUGt^STCS,   A3  A   DHTY. 

And  chiefly  thou,'  whoso  undetermined  state 
Is  yet  the  business  of  the  gods'  debate  ; 

'  The  Roman  emperor,  Octavius  Ccesar  Augustus. 


Whether  in  after-times  to  bo  declared 
The  patron  of  the  world,  and  Rome's  peculiar  gtiard. 
Or  o'er  the  fruits  and  seasons  to  preside, 
And  the  round  circuit  of  the  year  to  guide  ; 
Powerful  of  blessings  which  thou  strew'st  around, 
And  with  thy  goddess  mother's  myrtle  crowned. 
Or  wilt  thou,  Ca'sar,  choose  the  watery  reign, 
To  smooth  the  surges,  and  correct  the  main  ? 
Then  mariners,  in  storms,  to  thee  shall  pray, 
Even  utmost  Thule  shall  thy  power  obey  ; 
And  Neptune  shall  resign  the  fasces  of  the  sea. 
The  watery  virgins  for  thy  bed  shall  strive, 
And  Tcthys  all  her  waves  in  dowry  give. 
Or  wilt  thou  bless  our  summers  with  thy  rays, 
And,  seated  near  the  balance,  poise  the  days  : 
Where  in  the  void  of  heaven  a  space  is  free, 
Betwixt  the  scorpion  and  the  maid,  for  thee. 
The  scorpion,  ready  to  receive  thy  law.<, 


Thy  mind,  to  leave  thy  kindred  gods  above. 

Though  Greece  admires  Elysium's  blest  retreat. 

Though  Proserpine  affects  her  silent  seat, 

And,  importuned  by  Ceres  to  remove, 

Prefers  the  fields  below  to  those  above. 

But  thou,  propitious  Caesar  !  guide  my  course. 

And  to  my  bold. endeavors  add  thy  force. 

Pity  the  poet's  and  the  ploughman's  cares. 

Interest  thy  greatness  in  our  mean  affairs, 

And  use  thyself  betimes  to  hear  and  grant  our  prayers. 


While  yet  the  spring  is  young,  while  earth  unbinds 
Iler  frozen  bosom  to  the  western  mnds  ; 
While  mountain-snows  dissolve  against  the  sun, 
And  streams,  yet  new,  from  precipices  run  ; 
Even  in  this  early  dawning  of  the  year. 
Produce  the  plough,  and  yoke  the  sturdy  steer, 
And  goad  him  till  ho  groans  beneath  his  toil, 
Till  the  bright  share  is  buried  in  the  soil. 
That  crop  rewards  the  greedy  peasant's  pains, 
Which  twice  the  sun  and  twice  the  cold  sustains, 
And   bursts    the   crowded    bams  with   more   than 
promised  gains. 


But  ere  we  stir  the  yet  unbroken  ground, 
The  various  coarse  of  seasons  must  be  found  ; 
The  weather,  and  the  setting  of  the  winds. 
The  culture  suiting  to  the  several  kinds 


RURAL   POETRY. 


Of  seeds  and  plants,  and  what  will  thrive  and  rise, 

And  what  the  genius  of  the  soil  denies. 

This  ground  with  Bacchus,  that  with  Ceres  suits  ; 

That  other  loads  the  trees  with  happy  fruits  ; 

A  fourth  with  gross,  unbidden,  decks  the  ground  : 

Thus  Tmolus  is  with  yellow  saffron  crowned  ; 

India  black  ebon  and  white  ivory  bears  ; 

And  soft  Idume  weeps  her  od'rous  tears. 

Thus  Pontus  sends  her  beaver  stones  from  far  ; 

And  naked  Spaniards  temper  steel  for  war. 

Epirus  for  the  Elean  chariot  breeds 

(In  hopes  of  palms)  a  race  of  running  steeds. 

This  is  the  original  contract ;  these  the  laws 

Imposed  by  nature,  and  by  nature's  cause, 

On  sundry  places,  when  Deucalion  hurled 

His  mother's  entrails  on  the  desert  world  : 

Whence  men,  a  hard,  laborious  kind,  were  bom. 

WHEN,    HOW,  AND   WHAT  TO   PLOOOH. 

■  Then  borrow  part  of  winter  for  thy  corn  ; 
And  early  with  thy  team  the  glebe  in  furrows  turn. 
That  while  the  turf  lies  open  and  unbound, 
Succeeding  suns  may  bake  the  mellow  ground. 
But  if  the  soil  be  barren,  only  scar 
The  surface,  and  but  lightly  print  the  share. 
When  cold  Arcturus  rises  with  the  sun  : 
Lest  wicked  weeds  the  corn  should  over-run 
In  watery  soils  ;  or  lest  the  barren  sand 
Should  suck  the  moisture  from  the  thirsty  land. 

FALLOWS.  —  ROTATION.  —  ASHES. 

Both  these  unhappy  soils  the  swain  forbears. 
And  keeps  a  sabbath  of  alternate  years  : 
That  the  spent  earth  may  gather  heart  again  ; 
And,  bettered  by  cessation,  bear  the  grain. 
At  least,  where  vetches,  pulse,  and  tares,  have  stood, 
And  stalks  of  lupines  grew  (a  stubborn  wood) : 
The  ensuing  season,  in  return,  maybear 
The  bearded  product  of  the  golden  year. 
For  fla.\  and  oats  will  burn  the  tender  field. 
And  sleepy  poppies  harmful  harvests  yield. 
But  sweet  vicissitudes  of  rest  and  toil 
Make  easy  labor,  and  renew  the  soil. 
Yet  sprinkle  sordid  ashes  all  around, 
And  load'with  fattening  dung  thy  fallow  ground. 
Thus  change  of  seeds  for  meagre  soils  is  best ; 
And  earth  manured,  not  idle,  though  at  rest. 


Lest  soaking  showers  should  pierce  her  secret  seat. 
Or  freezing  Boreas  chill  her  genial  heat ; 
Or  scorching  suns  too  violently  beat. 

SOILS  SBOCLn    Bi  WELL  PULVERIZED. 

Nor  is  the  profit  small  the  peasant  makes,    [rakes, 
Who  smoothes  with  harrows,  or  who  pounds  with 
The  crumbling  clod  :  nor  Ceres  from  on  high 
Regards  his  labors  with  a  grudging  eye  ; 
Nor  his,  who  ploughs  across  the  furrowed  grounds, 
And  on  the  back  of  earth  inflicts  new  wounds  ; 
For  he  with  frequent  exercise  commands 
The  unwilling  soil,  and  tames  the  stubborn  lands. 


Long  practice  has  a  sure  improvement  lound. 
With  kindled  fires  to  burn  the  barren  ground  ; 
When  the  light  stubble,  to  the  flames  resigned, 
Is  driven  along,  and  crackles  in  the  wind. 
Whether  from  hence  the  hollow  womb  of  earth 
Is  warmed  with  secret  strength  for  better  birth  ; 
Or  when  the  latent  vice  is  cured  by  fire. 
Redundant  humors  through  the  pores  expire  ; 
Or  that  the  warmth  distends  the  chinks,  and  makes 
New  breathings,  whence  new  nourishment  she  takes ; 
Or  that  the  heat  the  gaping  ground  constrains. 
New  knits  the  surface,  and  new  strings  the  veins. 


Ye  swains,  invoke  the  powers  who  rule  the  sky. 
For  a  moist  summer,  and  a  winter  dry  : 
For  winter  drought  rewards  the  peasant's  pain. 
And  broods  indulgent  on  the  buried  grain. 
Hence  Mysia  boasts  her  harvests,  and  the  tops 
Of  Gargarus  admire  their  happy  crops. 
When  first  the  soil  receives  the  fruitful  seed. 
Make  no  delay,  but  cover  it  with  speed  : 
So  fenced  from  cold  ;  the  pliant  furrows  break, 
Before  the  surly  clod  resists  the  rake. 
And  call  the  floods  from  high,  to  rush  amain 
With  pregnant  streams,  to  swell  the  teeming  grain. 
Then  when  the  fiery  suns  too  fiercely  play. 
And  shrivelled  herbs  on  withering  stems  decay, 
The  wary  ploughman,  on  the  mountain's  brow, 
Undams  his  watery  stores,  huge  torrents  flow  ; 
And,  rattling  down  the  rocks,  large  moisture  yield, 
Tempering  the  thirsty  fever  of  the  field. 

FEEDINQ  DOWN  THE  WHEAT.  —  DRAINING.  —  UEESE,  CRANES, 

And  lest  the  stem,  too  feeble  for  the  freight. 
Should  scarce  sustain  the  head's  unwieldy  weight, 
Sends  in  his  feeding  flocks  betimes  to  invade 
The  rising  bulk  of  the  luxuriant  blade  ; 
Ere  yet  the  aspiring  offspring  of  the  grain 
O'ertops  the  ridges  of  the  furrowed  plain  : 
And  drains  the  standing  waters,  when  they  yield 
Too  large  a  beverage  to  the  drunken  field. 
But  most  in  autumn,  and  the  showery  spring, 
\\  lull  tlul.iiius  niunths  uncertain  weather  bring  ; 
W  hrii  |niiiit;iiii-  npt'ii,  aud  impctuous  rain 
^Hrll-  lia  Iv  lii.inks,  uud  pouTS  upou  tlic  plain  ; 
Wlieii  eaitli  with  slime  and  mud  is  covered  o'er. 
Or  hollow  places  spew  their  wat'ry  store. 
Nor  yet  the  ploughman,  nor  the  laboring  steer. 
Sustain  alone  the  hazards  of  the  year  ; 
But  glutton  geese,  and  the  Strymonian  crane, 
With  foreign  troops,  invade  the  tender  grain  : 
And  towering  weeds  malignant  shadows  yield  ; 
And  spreading  succory  chokes  the  rising  field. 


The  sii 
Forbids  ( 


of  gods  and  men,  with  hard  decrees, 
•  plenty  to  be  bought  with  ease  : 


SUMMER — JULY. 


209 


And  wills  that  mortal  men,  inured  to  toil, 
Should  oxcrcise,  with  pains,  the  grudging  soil. 
Himself  invented  first  tho  shining  share. 
And  whetted  human  industry  by  care  : 
Himself  did  handicrafts  and  arts  ordain  ; 
Nor  suffered  sloth  to  rust  bis  active  reign. 
Ere  this,  no  peasant  vexed  the  peaceful  ground  ; 
Which  only  turfs  and  greens  for  altars  found  : 
No  fences  parted  fields,  nor  marks  nor  bounds 
Distinguished  acres  of  litigious  grounds  : 
But  all  was  common,  and  tho  fruitful  earth 
Was  free  to  give  her  unexactod  birth. 


Jovo  added  venom  to  the  viper's  brood, 
And  swelled,  with  raging  storms,  tho  peaceful  flood 
Commissioned  hungry  wolves  to  infest  the  fold, 
•And  shook  from  oaken  leaves  the  liquid  gold. 
Removed  from  human  reach  the  cheerful  fire, 
And  from  the  rivers  bade  the  wine  retire  : 
That  studious  need  might  useful  arts  explore  ; 
From  furrowed  fields  to  reap  the  fruitful  store  : 
And  force  the  veins  of  clashing  flints  to  expire 
The  lurking  seeds  of  their  celestial  fire. 


Then  first  on  seas  tho  hollowed  alder  swam  ; 
Then  sailors  quartered  heaven,  and  found  a  name 
For  every  fixed  and  every  wandering  star  : 
The  Pleiads,  Hyads,  and  the  Northern  Car. 
Then  toils  for  beasts,  and  lime  for  birds,  were  found. 
And  deep-mouthed  dogs  did  forest  walks  surround  : 
And  casting-nets  were  spread  in  shallow  brooks, 
Drags  in  the  deep,  and  baits  were  hung  on  hooks. 
Then  saws  were  toothed,  and  sounding  axes  made 
(For  wedges  first  did  yielding  wood  invade). 
And  various  arts  in  order  did  succeed  :  — 
What  cannot  endless  labor,  urged  by  need  ?  — 


First  Ceres  taught,  the  ground  with  grain  to  sow, 
And  armed  with  iron  shares  the  crooked  plough  ; 
When  now  Dodonian  oaks  no  more  supplied 
Their  mast,  and  trees  their  forest  fruit  denied. 
Soon  was  his  labor  doubled  to  the  swain. 
And  blasting  mildews  blackened  all  his  grain. 
Tough  thistles  choked  the  fields,  and  killed  tho  com, 
And  an  unthrifty  crop  of  weeds  was  born. 
Then  burs  and  brambles,  an  unbidden  crew 
Of  graceless  guests,  tho  unhappy  fields  subdue  : 
And  oats  unblest  and  darnel  domineers, 
And  shoots  its  hea^l  above  tho  shining  cars. 
So  that  unless  the  land  with  daily  care 
Is  exercised,  and  with  an  iron  war 
Of  rakes  and  harrows  the  proud  foes  expelled, 
And  birds  with  clamors  frighted  from  the  field  ; 
Unless  the  boughs  are  lopped  that  shade  the  plain, 
And  heaven  invoked  with  vows  for  fruitful  rain. 
On  other  crops  you  may  with  envy  look, 
And  shako  for  food  the  long-abandoned  oak. 


Nor  must  we  pass  untold  what  arms  they  wield, 
Who  labor  tillage  and  the  furrowed  field  : 
Without  whose  aid  the  ground  her  corn  denies. 
And  nothing  can  h«  sown,  and  nothing  rise. 
The  crooked  plough,  tho  share,  tho  towering  height 
Of  wagons,  and  the  cart's  unwieldy  weight ; 
The  sled,  the  tumbril,  hurdles,  and  the  flail. 
The  fan  of  Bacchus,  with  tho  flying  sail. 
These  all  must  be  prepared,  if  ploughmen  hope 
The  promised  blessing  of  a  bounteous  crop. 


Young  elms  with  early  force  in  copses  bow. 
Fit  for  the  figure  of  the  crooked  plough. 
Of  eight  feet  long  a  fastened  beam  prepare. 
On  either  side  the  head  produce  an  car. 
And  sink  a  socket  for  tho  shining  share. 
Of  beech  the  plough-tail,  and  the  bending  yoke  ; 
Or  softer  linden  hardened  in  tho  smoke. 
I  could  bo  long  in  precepts,  but  I  fear 
So  mean  a  subject  might  ofi'end  your  oar. 


FIBLD-MOrSE,   MOLE,   WEASEL,   AST. 

Delve  (if  convenient  depth  your  threshing-floor 
With  tempered  clay  then  fill  and  face  it  o'er  : 
And  lot  the  weighty  roller  run  the  rouud, 
To  smooth  the  surface  of  the  unequal  ground  ; 
Lest,  cracked  with  summer  heats,  the  flooring  flic 
Or  sinks,  and  through  the  crannies  weeds  arise. 
For  sundry  foes  the  rural  realms  surround  : 
The  field-mouse  builds  her  garner  under  ground. 
For  gathered  grain  the  blind,  laborious  mole 
In  winding  mazes  works  her  hidden  hole. 
In  hollow  caverns  vermin  make  abode. 
The  his.Ming  serpent,  and  tho  swelling  toad  : 
Tho  corn-devouring  weasel  here  abides. 
And  the  wise  ant  her  wintry  store  provides. 


Mark  well  the  flowering  almonds  in  the  wood  ; 
If  odorous  blooms  the  bearing  branches  load, 
The  glebe  will  answer  to  the  sylvan  reign. 
Great  heats  will  follow,  and  large  crops  of  grain 
But  if  a  wood  of  leaves  o'ershadc  tho  tree. 
Such  and  so  barren  will  thy  harvest  bo  : 
In  vain  the  hind  shall  vex  the  threshing-floor, 
For  empty  chaff  and  straw  will  be  thy  store. 


I  PREPARATION  ( 


-  DOWNWARD  TKSPKSCY 


Some  steep  their  seed,  and  somo  in  cauldrons  boil 
With  vigorous  nitre,  and  with  lees  of  oil. 
O'er  gentle  fires  ;  the  exuberant  juice  to  drain. 
And  swell  tho  flattering  husks  with  fruitful  grain. 
Yet  is  not  the  success  for  years  assured. 
Though  chosen  is  the  seed,  and  fully  cured  ; 
Unless  the  peasant,  with  his  annual  pain. 
Renews  his  choice,  and  culls  the  largest  grain. 


27 


RURAL    POETRY. 


Thus  all  below,  whether  by  nature's  curse, 
Or  fate's  decree,  degenerate  still  to  worse. 
So  the  boat's  brawny  crew  the  current  stem, 
And,  slow  advancing,  struggle  with  the  stream  : 
But  if  they  slack  their  hands,  or  cease  to  strive. 
Then  down  the  flood  with  headlong  haste  they  dri 


Nor  must  the  ploughman  less  observe  the  skies, 
When  the  Kids,  Dragon,  and  Arcturus  rise. 
Than  sailors  homeward  bent,  who  cut  their  way 
Through  Helle's  stormy  straits,  and  oyster-breeding 
But  when  Astraa's  Balance,  hung  on  high,        [sea. 
Betwi.'it  the  nights  and  days  divides  the  sky, 
Then  yoke  your  oxen,  sow  your  winter  grain  ; 
Till  cold  December  comes  with  driving  rain. 
Linseed  and  fruitful  poppy  bury  warm, 
In  a  dry  season,  and  prevent  the  storm. 
Sow  beans  and  clover  in  a  rotten  soil, 
And  millet,  rising  from  your  annual  toil  : 
When  with  his  golden  horns,  in  full  career, 
The  Bull  beats  down  the  barriers  of  the  year  ; 
And  Argos  and  the  Dog  forsake  the  northern  sphere. 


But  if  your  care  to  wheat  alone  extend. 
Let  Maia  with  her  sisters  first  descend. 
And  the  bright  Gnosian  diadem  downward  bend  ; 
Before  you  trust  in  earth  your  future  hope  : 
Or  else  expect  a  listless,  lazy  crop. 
Some  swains  have  sown  before,  but  most  have  found 
A  husky  harvest  from  the  grudging  ground. 
Vile  vetches  would  you  sow,  or  lentils  lean, 
The  growth  of  Egypt,  or  the  kidney  bean  ? 
Begin  when  the  slow  Wagoner  descends  ; 
Nor  cease  your  sowing  till  mid-winter  ends. 

THE     nVE     ZONES,     OE     CLIMATES;     THE    TWO    HABITABLE 
ZONES. 

For  this,  through  twelve  bright  signs  Apollo  guides 
The  ycMi,  ^itmI  niith  in  several  climes  divides. 
Five  "it<ll<--  iiiii'l  ilir  -l.ifs,  the  torrid  zone 
Glows  Willi  ill.   |i;.--iii-  iiud  repassing  sun. 
Far  on  the  right  and  left,  the  extremes  of  heaven 
To  frosts  and  snows  and  bitter  blasts  are  given. 
Betwixt  the  midst  and  these,  the  gods  assigned 
Two  habitable  seats  for  human-kind  : 
And  cross  their  limits  cut  a  sloping  way, 
Which  the  twelve  signs  in  beauteous  order  sway. 
Two  poles  turn  round  the  globe  ;  one  seen  to  rise 
O'er  Scythian  hills,  and  one  in  Libyan  skies. 
The  first  sublime  in  heaven,  the  last  is  whirled 
Below  the  regions  of  the  nether  world. 


There,  as  they  say,  perpetual  night  is  found. 
In  silence  brooding  on  the  unhappy  ground  : 
Or  when  Aurora  leaves  our  northern  sphere, 
She  lights  the  downward  heaven,  and  rises  there. 
And  when  on  us  she  breathes  the  living  light, 
Ked  Vesper  kindles  there  the  tapers  of  the  night. 


From  hence  uncertain  seasons  we  may  know  ; 
And  when  to  reap  the  grain,  and  when  to  sow  : 
Or  when  to  fell  the  furzes  ;  when  't  is  meet 
To  spread  the  flying  canvas  for  the  fleet. 
Observe  what  stars  arise,  or  disappear  ; 
And  the  four  quarters  of  the  rolling  year. 
But  when  cold  weather,  and  continued  rain. 
The  laboring  husband  in  his  house  restrain  ; 
Let  him  forecast  his  work  with  timely  care. 
Which  else  is  huddled,  when  the  skies  are  fair  : 
Then  let  him  mark  the  sheep,  or  whet  the  shining 
Or  hollow  trees  for  boats,  or  number  o'er        [share. 
His  sacks,  or  measure  his  increasing  store  ; 
Or  sharpen  stakes,  or  head  the  forks,  or  twine 
The  sallow  twigs  to  tie  the  straggling  vine  ; 
Or  wicker  baskets  weave,  or  air  the  corn, 
Or  grinded  grain  betwixt  two  marbles  turn. 
No  laws,  divine  or  human,  can  restrain 
From  necessary  works  the  laboring  swain. 


Even  holidays  and  feasts  permission  yield, 
To  float  the  meadows,  or  to  fence  the  field, 
To  fire  the  brambles,  snare  the  birds,  and  steep 
In  wholesome  water-falls  the  woolly  sheep. 
And  oft  the  drudging  ass  is  driven,  with  toil. 
To  neighboring  towns  with  apples  and  with  oil  : 
Returning  late  and  laden  home  with  gain 
Of  bartered  pit«h,  and  hand-mills  for  the  grain. 


NOBTHEBN    SIGNS 


nRAGON,     THE 


Around  our  pole  the  spiry  Dragon  glides. 
And  like  a  winding  stream  the  Bears  divides  ; 
The  less  and  greater,  who,  by  fate's  decree, 
Abhor  to  dive  beneath  the  southern  sea  ; 


The  lucky  days,  in  each  revolving  moon. 
For  labor  choose  ;  the  fifth  be  sure  to  shun  : 
That  gave  the  Furies  and  pale  Pluto  birth. 
And  armed  against  the  skies  the  sons  of  earth. 
With  mountains  piled  on  mountains,  thrice  they 
To  scale  the  steepy  battlements  of  Jove  :        [strove 
And  thrice  his  lightning  and  red  thunder  played. 
And  their  demolished  works  in  ruin  laid. 
The  seventh  is,  next  the  tenth,  the  best  to  join 
Young  oxen  to  the  yoke,  and  plant  the  vine. 
Then  weavers  stretch  your  stays  upon  the  weft  : 
The  ninth  is  good  for  travel,  bad  for  theft. 


Some  works  in  dead  of  night  are  better  done  ; 
Or  when  the  morning  dew  prevents  the  sun. 
Parched  meads  and  stubble  mow,  by  Phoebe's  light ; 
Which  both  require  the  coolness  of  the  night ; 
For  moisture  then  abounds,  and  pearly  rains 
Descend  in  silence  to  refresh  the  plains. 
The  wife  and  husband  equally  conspire, 
To  work  by  night,  and  rake  the  winter  fire  . 


SUMMER  —  JULY. 


Ho  sharpens  torches  in  the  glimmering  room  : 
She  shoots  the  flying  shuttle  through  the  loom  ; 
Or  boiN  in  kettles  must  of  wino,  and  skims 
AVith  leaves  the  dregs  that  overflow  the  brims. 
And,  till  the  watchful  cock  awakes  the  day, 
She  sings  to  drive  the  tedious  hours  away. 


But  in  warm  weather,  when  tho  skies  are  clear. 
By  daylight  reap  tho  product  of  the  year  : 
And  in  tho  sun  your  golden  grain  display, 
And  thresh  it  out,  and  winnow  it  by  day. 
Plough  naked,  swain,  and  naked  sow  tho  land. 
For  lazy  Winter  numbs  the  laboring  hand. 
In  genial  Winter  swains  enjoy  their  store. 
Forget  their  hardships,  and  recruit  for  more. 
The  farmer  to  full  bowls  invites  his  friends. 
And  what  ho  got  with  pains,  with  pleasure  spends. 
So  sailors,  when  escaped  from  stormy  seas. 
First  crown  their  vessels,  then  indulge  their  ease. 


Yet  that's  the  proper  time  to  thresh  the  wood 
For  mast  of  oak,  your  father's  homely  food  ; 
To  gather  laurel-berries,  and  the  spoil 
Of  bloody  myrtles,  and  to  press  your  oil  : 
For  stalking  cranes  to  set  the  guileful  snare, 
To  enclose  the  stags  in  toils,  and  hunt  tho  hare  : 
With  Balearic  slings,  or  Gnossian  bow, 
To  persecute  from  far  tho  flying  doe, 
Then,  when  the  fleecy  skies  new-clothe  the  wood, 
And  cakes  of  rustling  ice  come  rolling  down  the 
flood. 

F-ARUBb'S  work  for  ACTCMS  ISD  srw.vo  ;  RilSS. 

Now  sing  we  stormy  stars,  when  Autumn  weighs 
The  year,  and  adds  to  nights,  and  shortens  days  ; 
And  suns  declining  shine  with  feeble  rays  : 
What  cares  must  then  attend  the  toiling  swain  ; 
Or  when  the  lowering  Spring,  with  lavish  rain, 
Beats  down  the  slender  stem  and  bearded  grain  : 
While  yet  the  head  is  green,  or,  lightly  swelled 
With  milky  moisture,  overlooks  the  field. 


Ev'n  when  the  farmer,  now  secure  of  fear. 
Sends  in  the  swains  to  spoil  the  finished  year  : 
Ev'n  while  the  reaper  fills  his  greedy  hands, 
And  binds  the  golden  sheaves  in  brittle  bands  : 
Oft  have  I  seen  a  sudden  storm  arise. 
From  all  the  warring  winds  that  sweep  tho  skies  : 
Tho  heavy  harvest  from  tho  root  is  torn. 
And  whirled  aloft  the  lighter  stubble  borne  ; 
With  such  a  force  tho  flying  rack  is  driven, 
And  such  a  winter  wears  the  face  of  heaven  : 
And  oft  whole  sheets  descend  of  sluicy  rain. 
Sucked  by  the  spongy  clouds  from  off  the  main  : 
Tho  lofty  skies  at  once  come  pouring  down, 
Tho  promised  crop  and  golden  labors  drown. 


I  Tho  dikes  aro  filled,  and  with  a  roaring  sound 
The  rising  rivers  float  the  nether  ground  ;      [bound. 
And  rooks  tho  bellowing  voice  of  boiling  seas  re- 
Tho  father  of  tho  gods  his  glory  shrouds  ; 
Involved  in  tempests,  and  a  night  of  clouds. 
And  from  tho  middle  darkness  flashing  out. 
By  fits  he  deals  his  fiery  bolts  about. 
Earth  feels  the  motion  of  her  angry  god. 
Her  entrails  tremble,  and  her  mountains  nod  ; 
And  flying  beasts  in  forests  seek  abode  : 
Deep  horror  seizes  every  human  breast. 
Their  pride  is  humbled,  and  their  fear  confessed  ; 
While  ho  from  high  his  rolling  thunder  throws, 
And  fires  the  mountains  with  repeated  blows  : 
The  rooks  are  from  their  old  foundations  rent  ; 
The  winds  redouble,  and  tho  rains  augment : 
The  waves  in  heaps  are  dashed  against  the  shore. 
And  now  the  woods,  and  now  tho  billows  roar. 

i  TO  CEIira  IS  SPRING  ASD 


In  fear  of  this,  observe  the  starry  signs  ; 
Where  Saturn  houses,  and  where  Hermes  joins. 
But  first  to  heaven  thy  due  devotions  pay. 
And  annual  gifts  on  Ceres'  altars  lay. 
When  Winter's  rage  abates,  when  cheerful  honrs 
Awake  the  Spring,  and  Spring  awakes  the  flowers, 
On  the  green  turf  thy  careless  limbs  display, 
And  celebrate  the  Mighty  Mother's  day. 
For  then  the  hills  with  plca«in;;  shades  are  crowned, 
Aiiil  -Ii  '  I-  .'ir  -n<  ■  tn'  '  n  till    -liken  ground  : 

\\\:''    :       I.  I  i  .  ;-     i'  .      iiroly  shines  ; 

I-:, I    I  ,     .  :  II-  Mro  the  wines. 

And  milk  and  honey  mix  with  sparkling  wine  : 
Let  all  the  choir  of  clowns  attend  the  show. 
In  long  processions,  shouting  as  they  go  ; 
Invoking  her  to  bless  their  yearly  stores, 
Inviting  plenty  to  their  crowded  floors. 
Thus  in  the  Spring,  and  thus  in  Summer's  heat, 
Before  the  sickles  touch  the  ripening  wheat. 
On  Cores  call  ;  and  let  the  laboring  hind 
With  oaken  wreaths  his  hollow  temples  bind  : 
On  Ceres  let  him  call,  and  Ceres  praise. 
With  uncouth  dances,  and  with  country  lays. 


COOTS,  IIRBOSS,    SBOOnxO-STARS,  CHAFF,  inU.NDKR    FROM 
lUE  NORTH. 

And  that  by  certain  signs  wo  may  presage 
Of  heats  and  rains,  and  wind's  impetuous  rage. 
The  Sovereign  of  the  heavens  has  set  on  high 
The  moon,  to  mark  the  changes  of  the  sky  :    [swain 
When  southern  blasts  should  cease,  and  when   tho 
Should  near  their  folds  his  feeding  flocks  restrain. 
For  ere  the  rising  winds  begin  to  roar, 
Tho  working  seas  advance  to  wash  tho  shore  : 
Soft  whispers  run  along  the  leafy  woods, 
And  mountains  whistle  to  the  murmuring  floods  : 
Ev'n  then  the  doubtful  billows  scarce  abstain 
From  the  tossed  vessel  on  the  troubled  main  : 


212 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  VIRGIL. 


When  crying  cormorants  forsake  the  sea, 
And  stretching  to  the  covert  wing  their  way  ; 
When  sportful  coots  run  skimming  o'er  tbe  strand  ; 
When  watchful  herons  leave  their  watery  stand, 
And,  mounting  upward  with  erected  flight, 
Gain  on  the  skies,  and  soar  above  the  sight. 
And  oft,  before  tempestuous  winds  arise, 
The  seeming  stars  fall  headlong  from  the  skies  ; 
And,  shooting  through  the  darkness,  gild  the  night 
With  sweeping  glories,  and  long  trails  of  light  : 
And  chaff  with  eddy  winds  is  whirled  around. 
And  dancing  leaves  are  lifted  from  the  ground  ; 
And  floating  feathers  on  the  waters  play. 
But  when  the  winged  thunder  takes  his  way 
From  the  cold  north,  and  east  and  west  engage. 
And  at  the  frontiers  meet  with  equal  rage, 
The  clouds  are  crushed,  a  glut  of  gathered  rain 
The  hollow  ditches  fills,  and  floats  the  plain, 
And  sailors  furl  their  dropping  sheets  amain. 


Wet  weather  seldom  hurts  the  most  unwise. 
So  plain  the  signs,  such  prophets  are  the  skies  : 
The  wary  crane  foresees  it  first,  and  sails 
Above  the  storm,  and  leaves  the  lowly  vales  : 
The  cow  looks  up,  and  from  afar  can  find 
The  change  of  heaven,  and  snuffs  it  in  the  wind. 
The  swallow  skims  the  river's  watery  face  ; 
The  frogs  renew  the  croaks  of  their  loquacious  race. 
The  careful  ant  her  secret  cell  forsakes, 
And  drags  her  eggs  along  the  narrow  tracks. 
At  either  horn  the  rainbow  drinks  tbe  flood  ; 
Huge  flocks  of  rising  rooks  forsake  their  food, 
And,  crying,  seek  the  shelter  of  the  wood. 
Besides  the  several  sorts  of  wiitery  fowls, 
That  swim  the  seas,  or  haunt  the  standing  pools  : 
The  swans  that  sail  along  the  silver  flood  ; 
Dive  without  stretching  necks  to  search  their  food, 
Then  lave  their  backs  with  sprinkling  dews  in  vain, 
And  stem  the  stream  to  meet  the  promised  rain. 
The  crow  with  clamorous  cries  the  shower  demands, 
And  single  stalks  along  the  desert  sands. 
The  nightly  virgin,  while  her  wheel  she  plies, 
I    Foresees  the  storm  impending  in  the  skies, 
I    When  sparkling  lamps  their  sputtering  light  advance. 
And  in  the  sockets  oily  bubbles  dance. 


Then,  after  showers,  't  is  easy  to  descry 
Returning  suns,  and  a  serener  sky  : 
The  stars  shine  smarter,  and  the  moon  adorns. 
As  with  unborrowed  beams,  her  sharpened  horns. 
The  filmy  gossamer  now  flits  no  more, 
Nor  halcyons  bask  on  the  short,  sunny  shore  : 
Their  litter  is  not  tossed  by  sows  unclean  ; 
]Jut  a  blue,  droughty  mist  descends  upon  the  plaii 
And  owls,  that  mark  the  setting  sun,  declare 
A  star-light  evening,  and  a  morning  fair. 
Towering  aloft,  avenging  Nisus  flies. 


While  dared  below  the  guilty  Scylla  lies. 
Wherever  frightened  Scylla  flies  away, 
Swift  Nisus  follows,  and  pursues  his  prey. 
MTiere  injured  Nisus  takes  his  airy  course, 
Thence  trembling  Scylla  flies,  and  shuns  his  force. 
This  punishment  pursues  the  unhappy  maid, 
And  thus  the  purple  hair  is  dearly  paid. 
Then,  thrice  the  ravens  rend  the  liquid  nir. 
And  croaking  notes  proclaim  the  settled  fair. 
Then,  round  their  airy  palaces  they  fly, 
To  greet  the  sun  ;  and,  seized  with  secret  joy, 
When  storms  are  over-blown,  with  food  repair 
To  their  forsaken  nests,  and  callow  care. 
Not  that  I  think  their  breasts  with  heavenly  souls 
Inspired,  as  man,  who  destiny  controls. 
But  with  the  changeful  temper  of  the  skies, 
As  rains  condense,  and  sunshine  rarefies  ; 
So  turn  the  species  in  their  altered  minds. 
Composed  by  calms,  and  discomposed  by  winds. 
From  hence  proceeds  the  birds'  harmonious  voice  : 
From  hence   the   cows  exult,   and  frisking   lambs 
rejoice. 


Observe  the  daily  circle  of  the  sun. 
And  the  short  year  of  each  revolving  moon  : 
By  them  thou  shalt  foresee  the  following  day  ; 
Nor  shall  a  starry  night  thy  hopes  betray. 
When  first  the  moon  appears,  if  then  she  shrouds 
Her  silver  crescent,  tipped  with  sable  clouds. 
Conclude  she  bodes  a  tempest  on  the  main. 
And  brews  for  fields  impetuous  floods  of  rain. 
Or  if  her  face  with  fiery  flushing  glow. 
Expect  the  rattling  winds  aloft  to  blow. 
But  four  nights  old  (for  that's  the  surest  sign). 
With  sharpened  horns  if  glorious  then  she  shine  ; 
Next  day,  nor  only  that,  but  all  the  moon, 
Till  her  revolving  race  be  wholly  run, 
Are  void  of  tempests,  both  by  land  and  sea, 
And  sailors  in  the  port  their  promised  vows  shall  pay. 

WEATHER  SIGNS   BY   THE  RISISG  SUS. 

Above  the  rest,  the  sun,  who  never  lies, 
Foretells  the  change  of  weather  in  the  skies  : 
For  if  he  rise  unwilling  to  his  race, 
Clouds  on  his  brow,  and  spots  upon  his  face  ; 
Or  if  through  mists  he  shoots  his  sullen  beams, 
Frugal  of  light,  in  loose  and  straggling  streams  : 
Suspect  a  drizzling  day,  with  southern  rain, 
Fatal  to  fruits,  and  flocks,  and  promised  grain. 
Or  if  Aurora,  with  half-opened  eyes. 
And  a  pale  sickly  check,  salute  the  skies  ; 
How  shall  the  vine,  with  tender  leaves,  defend 
Her  teeming  clusters,  when  the  storms  descend? 
AVhen  ridgy  roofs  and  tiles  can  scarce  avail 
To  bar  the  ruin  of  the  rattling  hail. 


But,  more  than  all,  the  setting  sun  survey, 
When  down  the  steep  of  heaven  he  drives  the  day. 
For  oft  we  find  him  finishing  his  race. 
With  various  colors  erring  on  his  face  ; 


SUMMER — JULY. 


218 


If  fiory  red  hia  glowing  globo  descends, 

High  winds  and  furious  tempests  bo  portends  : 

But  ifliis  ohcoks  aro  swoln  with  livid  blue, 

Ho  bodes  wet  woathor  by  his  wiitry  huo  ; 

If  dusky  spots  aro  varied  on  his  brow, 

And  streaked  with  rod,  a  troubled  color  show  ; 

That  sullen  mixture  shall  at  unco  declare 

Winds,  rain,  and  storms,  and  elemental  war. 

What  desperate  madman  then  would  venture  o'er 

Tbo  frith,  or  haul  his  cables  frt)m  the  shore  ? 

But  if  with  purple  rays  he  brings  tho  light, 

And  a  pure  heaven  resigns  to  quiet  night ; 

No  rising  winds,  or  falling  storms,  are  nigh  ; 

But  northern  breezes  through  the  forest  fly, 

And  drive  tho  rack,  and  purge  the  ruffled  sky. 

Tho  unerring  sun  by  certain  signs  declares 

What  the  late  ev'n,  or  early  morn,  prepares  : 

And  when  tho  south  projects  a  stormy  day,    [away. 

And  when  tho  clearing  north  will  pufif  the  clouds 

Tho  sun  reveals  the  secrets  of  the  sky  ; 
And  who  dares  give  the  source  of  light  the  lie? 
Tho  change  of  empires  often  he  declares. 
Fierce  tumults,  hidden  treasons,  open  wars. 
He  first  the  fate  of  Caesar  did  foretell. 
And  pitied  Rome,  when  Rome  in  Ciesar  fell  ; 
In  iron  clouds  concealed  tho  public  light ; 
And  impious  mortals  feared  eternal  night. 

Nor  was  the  fact  foretold  by  him  alone  : 
Nature  herself  stood  forth,  and  seconded  tho  sun. 
Earth,  air,  and  seas,  with  prodigies  were  signed, 
And  birds  obscene,  and  howling  dogs  divined. 
What  rocks  did  ^Etna's  bellowing  mouth  expire 
From  her  torn  entrails  ;  and  what  floods  of  fire  ! 
What  clanks  were  heard,  in  German  skies  afar,  ' 
Of  arms  and  armies,  rushing  to  the  war  ! 
Dire  earthquakes  rent  tho  solid  Alps  below. 
And  from  their  summits  shook  the  eternal  snow  : 
Pale  spectres  in  the  close  of  night  were  seen. 
And  voices  heard  of  more  than  mortal  men. 
In  silent  groves,  dumb  sheep  and  oxen  spoke. 
And  streams  ran  backward,  and  their  beds  forsook  : 
The  yawning  earth  disclosed  the  abyss  of  hell  : 
The  weeping  statues  did  the  wars  foretell ; 
And  holy  sweat  from  brazen  idols  fell. 


MACEDONIA  ;    PLOCUUING     UP   OK   BATTLB   RELICS. 

Then,  rising  in  his  might,  the  king  of  floods 
Hushed  through  tho  forests,  tore  the  lofty  woods  ; 
And  rolling  onward,  with  a  swoepy  sway. 
Bore  houses,  herds,  and  laboring  hinds,  away. 
Blood  sprang  from  wells,  wolves  howled  in  towns  by 
And  boding  victims  did  tho  priests  affright,  [night. 
Such  peals  of  thunder  never  poured  from  high, 
Nor  forky  lightnings  flashed  from  such  a  sullen  sky. 
Red  meteors  ran  across  tho  ethereal  space  ; 
Stars  disappeared,  and  oometa  took  their  plaoo. 
For  this  tho  Kmathian  plains  once  more  were  strewed 


With  Roman  bodies,  and  just  Heaven  thought  good 
To  fatten  twice  those  fields  with  Roman  blood. 
Then,  aftor  length  of  time,  tho  laboring  swains. 
Who  turn  tho  turfs  of  those  unhappy  plains. 
Shall  rusty  piles  from  tho  ploughed  furrows  take, 
And  over  empty  hebnets  pass  tho  rake. 
Amazed  at  antique  titles  on  tho  stones, 
And  mighty  relies  of  gigantic  bones. 

ADrtATlOS  OF   ACOOSTCS  AS  A  OOD. 

Ye  homc-born  deities,  of  mortal  birth  ! 
Thou,  father  Romulus,  and  mother  Earth, 
Goddess  unmoved  !  whose  guardian  arras  extend 
O'er  Tuscan  Tiber's  course,  and  Roman  towers  defend; 
With  youthful  Casar  your  joint  powers  engage. 
Nor  hinder  him  to  save  the  sinking  ago. 
0  !  let  the  blood,  already  spilt,  atono 
For  the  past  crimes  of  curst  Laomedon  !        [know. 
Heaven  wants  thee  there,  and  long  the  gods,  w© 
Have  grudged  thee,  Cffisar,  to  the  world  below  : 
Whore  fraud  and  rapino  right  and  wrong  confound; 
Whore  impious  arms  from  every  part  resound. 
And  monstrous  crimes  in  every  shape  are  crowned. 

THB   HORRORS   OF   WAR  J   IT   DRAGS   ! 

Tho  peaceful  peasant  to  the  wai 
The  fields  lie  fallow  in  inglorious  rest : 
Tho  plain  no  pasture  tu  tli-'  tlmk  ;iilni.ls. 
The  crooked  scythes  an-  -tii  i_-liii  ni  ,1  mt  >  swords  : 
And  there  Euphrates  li<r  -■  ii  .ii-pnn:;  ;irnis. 
And  hero  the  Rhine  rcbclluw;  wiiU  .iLums  ; 
The  neighboring  cities  range  on  several  .sirlcs. 
Perfidious  Mars  long  plighted  leagues  divides. 
And  o'er  the  wasted  world  in  triumph  rides. 
So  four  fierce  coursers,  startiug  to  tho  race. 
Scour  through  the  plain,  and  lengthen  every  pace  : 
Nor  reins,  nor  curbs,  nor  threatening  cries,  they  fear, 
But  force  along  the  trembling  charioteer. 


The  sutypct  of  the  followinR  book  is  planting.  In  handling 
of  which  nrmunent  the  poet  shows  all  the  different  methods 
of  raisitiK  trees  \  describes  their  variety  ;  and  Rives  rules 
for  the  mjiniipfment  of  each  in  particular.    He  then  points 


TO  RCIS. 

I  preat ; 


k  country  life. 

THB  8UBJSCT.  —  THB  TISB,  TRK8S,  TUB  OLIVE. 

Thus  far  of  tillage,  and  of  heavenly  signs  ; 
Now  sing,  my  muse,  the  growth  of  generous  vines  : 
The  shady  groves,  tho  woodland  progeny. 
And  tho  slow  product  of  Minerva's  tree. 


Great  father  Bacchus  !  to  my  song  repair  ; 
For  clustering  grapes  aro  thy  peculiar  care  : 
For  thee  large  bunchos  load  tho  bending  vine, 
And  tho  last  blessings  of  the  year  are  thine  ; 


214 


RURAL  POETRY. 


To  thee  his  joys  the  jolly  Autumn  owes, 
When  the  fermenting  juice  the  vat  o'erflows. 
Come,  strip  with  me,  my  god,  come  drench  all  o'er 
Thy  limbs  in  must  of  wine,  and  drink  at  every  pore. 


Some  trees  their  birth  to  bounteous  nature  owe 
For  some  without  the  pains  of  planting  grow. 
AVith  osiers  thus  the  banks  of  brooks  abound. 
Sprung  from  the  watery  genius  of  the  ground  : 
From  the  same  principle  gray  willows  come  ; 
Herculean  poplar,  and  the  tender  broom. 
But  some  from  seeds  enclosed  in  earth  arise  ; 
For  thus  the  mastful  chestnut  mates  the  skies. 
Hence  rise  the  branching  beech  and  vocal  oak, 
Where  Jove  of  old  oraculously  spoke. 
Some  from  the  root  a  rising  wood  disclose  ; 
Thus  elms  and  thus  the  savage  cherry  grows  : 
Thus  the  green  bay,  that  binds  the  poet's  brows, 
Shoots,  and  is  sheltered  by  the  mother's  boughs. 


These  ways  of  planting  Nature  did  ordain, 
For  trees  and  shrubs,  and  all  the  sylvan  reign. 
Others  there  are,  by  late  experience  found  : 
Some  cut  the  shoots,  and  plant  in  furrowed  ground  : 
Some  cover  rooted  stalks  in  deeper  mould  : 
Some  cloven  stakes,  and  (wondrous  to  behold) 
Their  sharpened  ends  in  earth  their  footing  place, 
And  the  dry  poles  produce  a  living  race. 
Some  bow  their  vines,  which,  buried  in  the  plain, 
Their  tops  in  distant  arches  rise  again. 
Others  no  root  require,  the  lab'rer  cuts 
Young  slips,  and  in  the  soil  securely  puts. 
Even  stumps  of  olives,  bared  of  leaves,  and  dead, 
Revive,  and  oft  redeem  their  withered  head. 
'T  is  usual  now  an  inmate  graft"  to  see 
With  insolence  invade  a  foreign  tree  : 
Thus  pears  and  quinces  from  the  crab-tree  come  ; 
And  thus  the  ruddy  cornel  bears  the  plum. 

ADVANTAGES  OF  BOTANICAL  KNOWLEDGE. 

Then  let  the  learned  gardener  mark  with  care 
The  kinds  of  stocks,  and  what  those  kinds  will  bear; 
Explore  the  nature  of  each  several  tree  ; 
And  known,  improve  with  artful  industry  ; 
And  let  no  spot  of  idle  earth  be  found. 
But  cultivate  the  genius  of  the  ground. 
For  open  Ismarus  will  Bacchus  please  ; 
Taburnus  loves  the  shade  of  olive-trees. 

The  virtues  of  the  several  soils  I  sing, 
Maecenas,  now  thy  needful  succor  bring  ! 
0,  thou  !  the  better  part  of  my  renown, 
Inspire  thy  poet,  and  thy  poem  crown  ; 
Embark  with  me  while  I  new  tracks  explore. 
With  flying  sails  and  breezes  from  the  shore  : 
Not  that  my  song,  in  such  a  scanty  space, 
So  large  a  subject  fully  can  embrace  : 
Not  though  I  were  supplied  with  iron  lungs, 
A  hundred  mouths,  filled  with  as  many  tongues  : 


But  steer  my  vessel  with  a  steady  hand. 
And  coast  along  the  shore  in  sight  of  land. 
Nor  will  I  tire  thy  patience  with  a  train 
Of  preface,  or  what  ancient  poets  feign. 

SPONTANEOUS  TREES  TO  BE  CORRECTED  BV  CULTCBB 


The  trees  which  of  themselves  advance  in  air 
Are  barren  kinds,  but  strongly  built  and  fair  : 
Because  the  vigor  of  the  native  earth 
Maintains  the  plant,  and  makes  a  manly  birth. 
Yet  these,  receiving  grafts  of  other  kind. 
Or  thence  transplanted,  change  their  savage  mind  ; 
Their  wildness  lose,  and,  quitting  nature's  part. 
Obey  the  rules  and  discipline  of  art. 
The  same  do  trees,  that,  sprung  from  barren  roots 
In  open  fields,  transplanted  bear  their  fruits. 
For  where  they  grow,  the  native  energy 
Turns  all  into  the  substance  of  the  tree. 
Starves  and  destroys  the  fruit,  is  only  made 
For  brawny  bulk,  and  for  a  barren  shade. 
The  plant  that  shoots  from  seed  a  sullen  tree 
At  leisure  grows,  for  late  posterity  ; 
The  generous  flavor  lost,  the  fruits  decay, 
And  savage  grapes  are  made  the  birds'  ignoble  prey. 


Much  labor  is  required  in  trees,  to  tame 
Their  wild  disorder,  and  in  ranks  reclaim. 
Well  must  the  ground  be  digged,  and  better  dressed. 
New  soil  to  make,  and  meliorate  the  rest. 
Old  stakes  of  olive-trees  in  plants  revive  ; 
By  the  same  methods  Paphian  myrtles  live  : 
But  nobler  vines  by  propagation  thrive. 
From  roots  hard  hazels,  and  from  scions  rise 
Tall  ash  and  taller  oak  that  mates  the  skies  ; 
Palm,  poplar,  fir,  descending  from  the  steep 
Of  hills,  to  try  the  dangers  of  the  deep. 
The  thin-leaved  arbute  hazel-grafis  receives, 
And  planes  huge  apples  bear,  that  bore  but  leaves. 
Thus  mastful  beech  the  bristly  chestnut  bears, 
And  the  wild  ash  is  white  with  blooming  pears  ; 
And  greedy  swine  from  grafted  elms  are  fed 
With  falling  acorns,  that  on  oaks  are  bred. 

BUDDING.   GRAFTING,   INOCULATION,    ETC. 

But  various  are  the  ways  to  change  the  state 
Of  plants,  to  bud,  to  graff,  t'  inoculate. 
For  where  the  tender  rinds  of  trees  disclose 
Their  shooting  gems,  a  swelling  knot  there  grows  ; 
Just  in  that  space  a  narrow  slit  we  make, 
Then  other  buds  from  bearing  trees  we  take  : 
Inserted  thus,  the  wounded  rind  we  close. 
In  whose  moist  womb  th'  admitted  infaut  grows. 
But  when  the  smoother  bole  from  knots  is  free, 
We  make  a  deep  incision  in  the  tree  ; 
And  in  the  solid  wood  the  slip  enclose, 
The  battening  bastard  shoots  again  and  grows  ; 
And  in  short  space  the  laden  boughs  arise. 
With  happy  fruit  advancing  to  the  skies. 
The  mother-plant  admires  the  leaves  unknown. 
Of  alien  trees,  and  apples  not  her  own. 


SUMMER — JULY. 


ViRICTlia  or  WILLOWS,   BLHS,  olives,  ArrLB-THIlBS,  ITC. 

Of  vegetable  woods  are  various  kinds, 
And  the  same  species  are  of  aev'ral  minds. 
Lotes,  willows,  elms,  have  different  forms  allowed. 
So  funeral  eypress,  rising  like  a  shroud. 
Fat  olive-trees  of  sundry  sorts  appear, 
Of  sundry  shapes  their  unctuous  berries  bear. 
Radii  long  olives,  Orchitcs  round  produce, 
And  bitter  Pausia,  pounded  for  the  juice. 
Alcinous'  orchard  various  apples  bears  : 
Unlike  are  bcrgamots  and  pounder  pears. 


SBiN,   LYDUX,  CnU.N,  AROITIS,   IIUOD 

Nor  our  Italian  vinos  produce  the  shape. 
Or  taste,  or  flavor,  of  the  Lesbian  grape. 
The  Thasian  vines  in  richer  soils  abound  ; 
The  Marcotic  grow  in  barren  ground. 
The  PsytljiiiM  ;;j;i|.i--  wf.liy  :  L!i;,'a-au  juice    [duce. 
Will  -till  1  ,       I  ml   -i.i;.'i,-'ring  feet  pro- 

Ratli  1 :  I  liitiT  kind, 

Of  gull  !  1|||,|||-  rind. 

How  .-h.i..  1  ,.,..,..  ,„.    l,.i  U.iiin  j,'r;ipe  divine, 
Which  yet  contends  not  with  Falcrnian  wine  ! 
The  Aminean  many  a  consulship  survives. 
And  longer  than  the  Lydian  vintage  lives. 
Or  [of  Phana-'us  high]  of  Chian  growth  : 
But  for  largo  quantities  and  lusting  both 
The  less  Argitis  hears  the  prize  away. 
The  Hh-  '■■■■■    - •  •'  •  ■  l!u-  solemn  day, 


And  ! 


„"  ids  abo 


1  lose. 


In  length  ami  hirgi-iie^s  like  the  dugs  of  cows. 
I  pass  the  rest,  whose  every  race  and  name. 
And  kinds,  are  less  material  to  my  theme. 
Which  who  would  learn,  as  soon  may  tell  the  sands, 
Driven  by  the  western  wind  on  Libyan  lands  ; 
Or  number,  when  the  blust'ring  Eurus  roars, 
The  billows  beating  on  Ionian  shores. 

EiCH  PLAN-T  HAS  ITS  PBOP8K  SOIL,  HABITAT,  AND  COOSTRT  ; 
EBON,  BALU,  LTC.  — SILK,  TALL  TKBKS  ;    CSK   OP  CITRONS. 

Kor  every  plant  on  every  soil  will  grow  ; 
The  sallow  loves  the  watery  ground,  and  low  ; 
The  marshes,  alders  ;  Nature  seems  t'  ordaiu 
The  rocky  cliff  for  the  wild  ash's  reign  ; 
The  baleful  yew  to  northern  blasts  assigns  ; 
To  shores  the  myrtles,  and  to  mounts  the  vines. 

Regard  th'  extrcmest  cultivated  coast. 
From  hot  Arabia  to  the  Scythian  frost : 
All  sorts  of  trees  their  several  countries  know  ; 
Black  ebon  only  will  in  India  grow  : 
And  od'rous  frankincense  on  the  Sabsean  bough. 
Balm  slowly  trickles  through  the  bleeding  veins 
Of  happy  shrubs  in  Iduma^an  plains. 
The  green  Egyptian  thorn,  for  mcd'cine  good. 
With  Ethiop's  hoary  trees  and  woolly  wood. 
Let  others  tell  ;  and  how  the  Seres  spin 
Their  fleecy  forests  in  a  slender  twine. 
With  mighty  trunks  of  trees  on  Indian  shores, 


Whose  height  above  the  feathered  arrow  soars. 
Shot  from  the  toughest  bow,  and  by  the  brawn 
Of  expert  archers  with  vast  vigor  drawn. 
Sharp-tasted  citrons  Median  climes  prmluco  : 
Bitter  the  rind,  but  generous  is  the  juice  : 
A  cordial  fruit,  a  present  antidote 
Against  the  direful  stepdame's  deadly  draught  : 
Who  mixing  wicked  weeds  with  words  impure, 
The  fate  of  envied  orphans  would  procure. 
Large  is  the  plant,  and  like  a  laurel  grows, 
And,  did  it  not  a  different  scent  disclose, 
A  laurel  were  ;  the  fragrant  flowers  contemn 
The  stormy  winds,  tenacious  of  their  stem. 
With  this  the  Modes  to  laboring  age  bequeath 
Now  lungs,  and  cure  the  sourness  of  the  breath. 


But  neither  Median  woods  (a  plenteous  land), 
Fair  Ganges,  Uermus  rolling  golden  sand. 
Nor  Baetria,  nor  the  richer  Indian  fields, 
Nor  all  the  gummy  stores  Arabia  yields  ; 
Nor  any  foreign  earth  of  greater  name, 
Can  with  sweet  Italy  contend  in  fame. 
No  bulls,  whose  nostrils  breathe  a  living  flame. 
Have  turned  our  turf,  no  teeth  of  serpents  here 
Were  sown,  an  armed  host  and  iron  crop  to  bear. 
But  fruitful  vines,  and  the  fat  olives'  freight. 
And  harvests  heavy  with  their  fruitful  weight, 
Adorn  our  fields  ;  and  on  the  cheerful  green 
The  grazing  flocks  and  lowing  herds  arc  seen. 
The  warrior  horse  here  bred  is  taught  to  train  : 
There  flows  Clitumnus  through  the  flowery  plain  ; 
Whose  waves,  for  triumphs  after  prosperous  war. 
The  victim  ox,  and  snowy  sheep,  prepare. 
Perpetual  spring  our  happy  olimato  sees  ; 
Twice  breed  the  cattle,  and  twice  bear  the  trees  ; 
And  summer  suns  recede  by  slow  degrees. 

Our  land  is  from  the  rage  of  tigers  freed. 
Nor  nourishes  the  lion's  angry  seed  ; 
No  poisonous  aconite  is  here  produced. 
Or  grows  unknown,  or  is,  when  known,  refused. 
Nor  in  so  vast  a  length  our  serpents  glide, 
Or  raised  on  such  a  spiry  volume  ride. 

THE    CITIES,   SEAS,    LAKES,    AND    MINES    OP     ITALY     LAVOED  j 
LAKES  COMO,   GABDA,    LOCBISCS,  AVERNCS  *,   PORT   JII.ICS. 

Next  add  our  cities  of  illustrious  name. 
Their  costly  labor  and  stupendous  frame  : 
Our  forts  on  steepy  hills,  that  far  below 
See  wanton  streams  in  winding  valleys  flow. 
Our  two-fold  seas,  that,  washing  either  side, 
A  rich  recruit  of  foreign  stores  provide. 
Our  spacious  lakes  :  thee,  Lnrius,  first  ;  and  next 
Benacus,  with  tempestuous  billows  vext. 
Or  shall  I  praise  thy  ports,  or  mention  make 
Of  the  vast  mound  that  binds  the  Lucrine  lake  : 
Or  the  disdainful  sea,  that,  shut  from  thence, 
Roars  round  the  structure,  and  invades  the  fenoe. 
There,  where  secure  the  Julian  waters  glide, 
Or  where  Avernus'  jaws  admit  the  Tyrrhene  tide. 
Our  quarries,  deep  in  earth,  were  famed  of  old 
For  veins  of  silver,  and  for  ore  of  gold. 


216 


RURAL    POETRY. 


The  inhabitants  themselves  their  country  grace  ; 
Hence  rose  the  Marsian  and  Sabellian  race  : 
Strong-limbed  and  stout,  and  to  the  wars  inclined. 
And  hard  Ligurians,  a  laborious  kind, 
And  Volscians,  armed  with  iron-headed  darts. 
Besides  an  offspring  of  undaunted  hearts. 
The  Decii,  Marii  ;  great  Camillus  came 
From  hence,  and  greater  Scipio's  double  name  : 
And  mighty  Cassar,  whose  victorious  arms 
To  furthest  Asia  carry  fierce  alarms  ; 
Avert  unwarlike  Indians  from  his  Rome  ; 
Triumph  abroad,  secure  our  peace  at  home. 


Hail,  sweet  Saturnian  soil  !  of  fruitful  grain 
Great  parent,  greater  of  illustrious  men. 
For  thee  my  tuneful  accents  will  I  raise. 
And  treat  of  arts  disclosed  in  ancient  days  : 
Once  more  unlock  for  thee  the  sacred  spring. 
And  old  Asoraean  verse  in  Roman  cities  sing. 

The  nature  of  their  several  soils  now  see. 
Their  strength,  their  color,  their  fertility  : 
And  first  for  heath,  and  barren  hiUy  ground, 
Where  meagre  clay  and  flinty  stones  abound  ; 
Where  the  poor  soil  all  succor  seems  to  want. 
Yet  this  suffices  the  Palladian  plant. 
Undoubted  signs  of  such  a  soil  are  found. 
For  here  wild  olive  shoots  o'erspread  the  ground, 
And  heaps  of  berries  strew  the  fields  around. 
But  where  the  soil,  with  fattening  moisture  filled, 
Is  clothed  with  grass,  and  fruitful  to  be  tilled  : 
Such  as  in  cheerful  vales  we  view  from  high  ; 
Which  dripping  rocks  with  roiling  streams  supply. 
And  feed  with  ooze  ;  where  rising  hillocks  run 
In  length,  and  open  to  the  southern  sun  ; 
Where  fern  succeeds,  ungrateful  to  the  plough, 
That  gentle  ground  to  generous  grapes  allow. 
Strong  stocks  of  vines  it  will  in  time  produce. 
And  overflow  the  vats  with  friendly  juice  ; 
Such  as  our  priests  in  golden  goblets  pour 
To  gods,  the  givers  of  the  cheerful  hour, 
Then  when  the  bloated  Thuscan  blows  his  horn. 
And  reeking  entrails  are  in  chargers  borne. 

If  herds,  or  fleecy  flocks,  be  more  thy  care. 
Or  goats  that  graze  the  field,  and  burn  it  bare  ; 
Then  seek  Tarentum*s  lawns,  and  furthest  coast. 
Or  such  a  field  as  hapless  Mantua  lost : 
Where  silver  swans  sail  down  the  watery  road, 
And  graze  the  floating  herbage  of  the  flood. 
There  crystal  streams  perpetual  tenor  keep, 
Nor  food  nor  springs  are  wanting  to  thy  sheep. 
For  what  the  day  devours,  the  nightly  dew 
Shall  to  the  morn  in  pearly  drops  renew. 

Fat  crumbling  earth  is  fitter  for  the  plough, 
Putrid  and  loose  above,  and  black  below  : 


For  ploughing  is  an  imitative  toil, 

Resembling  nature,  in  an  easy  soil. 

No  land  for  seed  like  this,  no  fields  afford 

So  large  an  income  to'the  village  lord  : 

No  toiling  teams  from  harvest-labor  come 

So  late  at  night,  so  heavy  laden  home. 

The  like  of  forest  land  is  understood, 

From  whence  the  surly  ploughman  grubs  the  wood. 

Which  had  for  length  of  ages  idle  stood. 

Then  birds  forsake  the  ruins  of  their  seat,     [forget. 

And,  flying  from  their  nests,  their  callow  young 

POOR  SOILS  ;   GOOD   SOILS   DESCRIBED.  —  CAMPANIA. 

The  coarse,  lean  gravel  on  the  mountain  sides 
Scarce  dewy  beverage  for  the  bees  provides  : 
Nor  chalk  nor  crumbling  stones,  the  food  of  snakes. 
That  work  in  hollow  earth  their  winding  tracks. 
The  soil  e-xhaling  clouds  of  subtile  dews. 
Imbibing  moisture  which  with  ease  she  spues  : 
Which  rusts  not  iron,  and  whose  mould  is  clean. 
Well  clothed  with  cheerful  grass,  and  ever  green. 
Is  good  for  olives  and  aspiring  vines  ; 
Embracing  husband  elms,  in  amorous  twines  ; 
Is  fit  for  feeding  cattle,  fit  to  sow. 
And  equal  to  the  pasture  and  the  plough. 

Such  is  the  soil  of  fat  Campanian  fields,     [yields, 
Such   large  increase  the  land  that  joins  Vesuvius 
And  such  a  country  could  Acerra  boast, 
Till  Clanius  overflowed  the  unhappy  coast. 


I  teach  thee  next  the  differing  soils  to  know  ; 
The  light  for  vines,  the  heavier  for  the  plough. 
Choose  first  a  place  for  such  a  purpose  fit. 
There  dig  the  solid  earth,  and  sink  a  pit  : 
Next  fill  the  hole  with  its  own  earth  again. 
And  trample  with  thy  feet,  and  tread  it  in  ; 
Then  if  it  rise  not  to  the  former  height 
Of  superfice,  conclude  that  soil  is  light : 
A  proper  ground  for  pasturage  and  vines. 
But  if  the  sullen  earth,  so  pressed,  repines 
Within  its  native  mansion  to  retire. 
And  stays  without,  a  heap  of  heavy  mire  ; 
'T  is  good  for  arable,  a  glebe  that  asks 
Tough  teams  of  oxen,  and  laborious  tasks. 

SALINE   EARTHS  ;    HOW  TESTED. 

Salt  earth  and  bitter  are  not  fit  to  sow. 
Nor  will  be  tamed  or  mended  by  the  plough. 
Sweet  grapes  degen'rate  there,  and  fruits  declined 
From  their  first  flav'rous  taste  renounce  their  kind. 
This  truth  by  sure  experiment  is  tried  : 
For  first  an  osier  colander  provide 
Of  twigs  thick  wrought  (such  toiling  peasants  twine, 
When  thro'  strait  passages  they  strain  their  wine) ; 
In  this  close  vessel  place  that  earth  accursed. 
But  filled  brimfuU  with  wholesome  water  first : 
Then  run  it  through,  the  drops  will  rope  around. 
And  by  the  bitter  taste  disclose  the  ground. 

HOW  TO    KNOW  SOILS  ;   VARIOUS  TESTS. 

The  fatter  earth  by  handling  we  may  find, 
With  ease  distinguished  from  the  meagre  kind  : 


SUMMER  —  JULY. 


217 


Puor  soil  will  crumblo  into  duat,  the  rich 
Will  to  tho  flngors  olcnro  like  clammy  pitch  : 
Moist  earth  produces  corn  and  gnas,  but  both 
Too  rank  and  too  luxuriant  in  tlicir  growth. 
Let  not  my  land  so  largo  a  promise  boast, 
Lest  the  lank  ears  in  length  of  stvm  be  lost. 
The  heavier  earth  is  by  her  weight  betrayed, 
Tho  lighter  in  the  poising  hand  is  weighed  : 
'T  is  easy  to  distinguish  by  tho  sight 
Tho  color  of  the  soil,  and  block  from  white. 
But  tho  cold  ground  is  difficult  to  know. 
Yet  this  tho  plants  that  prosper  there  will  show  j 
Black  ivy,  pitch  trees,  and  tho  baleful  yew. 


These  rules  considered  well,  with  early  care 
Tho  vineyard  destined  for  thy  vines  prepare  : 
But  long  before  the  planting  dig  the  ground 
With  furrows  deep,  that  oast  a  rising  mound  : 
Tho  clods,  exposed  to  winter  winds,  will  bake  ; 
For  putrid  earth  will  best  in  vineyards  take. 
And  hoary  frosts,  after  the  painful  toil 
Of  delving  hinds,  will  rot  the  mellow  soil. 


Some  peasants,  not  t  omit  the  nicest  care, 
Of  the  same  soil  their  nursery  prepare 
With  that  of  their  plantation  ;  lest  tho  tree, 
Translated,  should  not  with  tho  soil  agree. 
Beside,  to  plant  it  as  it  was,  they  mark 
The  heaven's  four  quarters  on  the  tender  bark  ; 
And  to  the  north  or  south  restore  the  side 
Which  at  their  birth  did  heat  or  cold  abide. 
So  strong  is  custom,  such  effects  can  use 
In  tender  souls  of  pliant  plants  produce. 


Choose  ne.xt  a  province  for  thy  vineyard's  reig 
On  hills  above,  or  in  tho  lowly  plain  : 
If  fertile  fields  or  valleys  be  thy  choice, 
Plant  thick,  for  bounteous  Bacchus  will  rejoice 
In  close  plantations  there.     But  if  the  vine 
On  rising  ground  be  placed,  or  hills  supine, 
E.xtend  thy  loose  battalions  largely  wide, 
Opening  thy  ranks  and  files  on  either  side  ; 
But  marshalled  all  in  order  as  they  stand. 
And  let  no  soldier  straggle  from  his  band. 
As  legions  in  the  field  their  front  display. 
To  try  the  fortune  of  some  doubtful  day. 
And  move  to  meet  their  foes  with  sober  pace. 
Strict  to  their  figure,  though  in  wider  spaco  ; 
Before  the  battle  joins  ;  while  from  afar 
The  field  yet  glitters  with  the  pomp  of  war. 
And  equal  Mars,  like  an  impartial  lord. 
Leaves  all  to  fortune,  and  tho  dint  of  sword  ; 
So  let  thy  vines  in  intervals  bo  set, 
But  not  their  rural  discipline  forget : 
Indulge  their  width,  and  add  a  roomy  space. 
That  their  e.'strcniest  lines  may  scarce  embrace  : 
Nor  this  alone  t'  indulge  a  vain  delight. 
And  make  a  ]ilcttsing  prospect  for  the  sight : 


But  for  tho  ground  itself,  this  only  way 

Can  oquol  vigor  to  tho  plants  convey  ;        [display. 

Which  crowded,  want  the  room  their  branches  to 


How  deep  they  must  bo  planted,  wouldst  thou 
In  shallow  furrows  vines  securely  grow.        [know? 
Not  so  tho  rest  of  plants  ;  for  Jove's  own  tree. 
That  holds  the  woods  in  awful  sovereignty, 
Ilequires  a  depth  of  lodging  in  tho  ground  ; 
And,  next  tho  lower  skies,  a  bed  profound  : 
High  as  his  topmost  boughs  to  heaven  ascend, 
So  low  his  roots  to  hell's  dominion  tend. 
Therefore,  nor  winds,  nor  winter's  rage,  o'erthrows 
His  bulky  body,  but  unmoved  he  grows  ; 
For  length  of  ages  lasts  his  happy  reign, 
And  lives  of  mortal  men  contend  in  vain. 
Full  in  the  midst  of  his  own  strength  he  stands. 
Stretching  his  brawny  arms,  and  leafy  hands  ; 
His  shade  protects  the  plains,  his  head  the  hills 
commands. 


The  hurtful  hazel  in  thy  vineyard  shun  ; 
Nor  plant  it  to  receive  the  setting  sun  : 
Nor  break  the  topmost  branches  from  the  tree  ; 
Nor  prune,  with  blunted  knife,  tho  progeny. 
Root  up  wild  olives  from  thy  labored  lands  : 
For  sparkling  fire,  from  hinds'  unwary  hands. 
Is  often  scattered  o'er  their  unctuous  rinds, 
And  after  spread  abroad  by  raging  winds. 
For  first  the  smouldering  flame  the  trunk  receives. 
Ascending  thence,  it  crackles  in  the  leaves  ; 
At  length  victorious  to  the  top  aspires. 
Involving  all  the  wood  in  smoky  fires  : 
But  most,  when  driven  by  winds,  the  flaming  storm 
Of  the  long  files  destroys  the  beauteous  form. 
In  ashes  then  th'  unhappy  vineyard  lies. 
Nor  will  the  blasted  plants  from  ruin  rise  ; 
Nor  will  the  withered  stock  be  green  again,  [plain. 
But  tho  wild  olive  shoots,  and  shades  th'  ungrateful 
TIMES  FOR  pLororaso. 

Be  not  seduced  with  wisdom's  empty  shows. 
To  stir  the  peaceful  ground  whon  Boreas  blows. 
Whin  winter  frosts  constrain  the  field  with  cold. 
The  fainty  root  can  take  no  steady  hold. 
But  when  the  golden  Spring  reveals  the  year. 
And  tho  white  bird  returns,  whom  serpents  fear  ; 
That  season  deem  the  best  to  plant  thy  vines  : 
Next  that,  is  when  autumnal  warmth  declines  ; 
Ere  heat  is  quite  decayed,  or  cold  begun. 
Or  Capricorn  admits  tho  winter  sun. 

REVIvn-VlNO  K.NBROIES  OF  SPRINQ  ',    BIROS,  BEASTS,   PLANTS. 

The  Spring  adorns  the  woods,  renews  the  leaves  ; 
The  womb  of  earth  tho  genial  seed  rcoeives. 
For  then  almighty  Jove  descends,  and  pours 
Into  his  buxom  bride  his  fruitful  showers  ; 
And  mixing  his  large  limbs  with  hers,  he  feeds 
Her  births  with  kindly  juice,  and  fosters  teeming 


218 


RURAL    POETRY. 


Then  joyous  birds  frequent  the  lonely  grove, 
And  beasts,  by  nature  stung,  renew  their  love. 
Then  fields  the  blades  of  buried  corn  disclose, 
And  while  the  balmy  western  spirit  blows. 
Earth  to  the  breath  her  bosom  dares  expose. 
With  kindly  moisture  then  the  plants  abound, 
The  grass  securuly  springs  above  the  ground  ; 
The  tender  twig  shuots  upward  to  the  skies. 
And  on  the  faith  of  the  new  sun  relies. 
The  swerving  vines  on  the  tall  elms  prevail. 
Unhurt  by  southern  showers  or  northern  hail. 
They  spread  their  gems  the  genial  warmth  to  share, 
And  boldly  trust  their  buds  in  open  air. 

THE  CEEATIOS  IN  SPRING  ;    iN  iCCOCNT  OF  IT. 

In  this  soft  season  (let  me  dare  to  sing) 
The  world  was  hatched  by  heaven's  imperial  King  : 
In  prime  of  all  the  year,  and  holy-days  of  Spring. 
Then  did  the  new  creation  first  appear  ; 
Nor  other  was  the  tenor  of  the  year  : 
When  laughing  heaven  did  the  great  birth  attend. 
And  eastern  winds  their  wintry  breath  suspend  : 
Then  sheep  first  saw  the  sun  in  open  fields  ; 
And  savage  beasts  were  sent  to  stock  the  wilds  : 
And  golden  stars  flew  up  to  light  the  skies, 
And  man's  relentless  race  from  stony  quarries  rise. 
Nor  could  the  tender  new  creation  bear 
Th'  excessive  heats  or  coldness  of  the  year  : 
But,  chilled  by  Winter,  or  by  Summer  fired. 
The  middle  temper  of  the  Spring  required. 
When  warmth  and  moisture  did  at  once  abound, 
And  heaven's  indulgence  brooded  on  the  ground. 


For  what  remains,  in  depth  of  earth  secure 
Thy  covered  plants,  and  dung  with  hot  manure  ; 
And  shells  and  gravel  in  the  grounds  enclose  ; 
For  through  their  hollow  chinks  the  water  flows  : 
Which,  thus  imbibed,  returns  in  misty  dews, 
And,  steaming  up,  the  rising  plant  renews. 
Some  husbandmen,  of  late,  have  found  the  way 
A  hilly  heap  of  stones  above  to  lay. 
And  press  the  plants  with  sherds  of  potter's  clay. 
This  fence  against  immoderate  rains  they  found  : 
Or  when  the  dog-star  cleaves  the  thirsty  ground. 

KEEP  THE  SOIL   FREE  ;    TRAINING   OF  VINES  ON  POLES,  ELMS, 

Be  mindful,  when  thou  hast  entombed  the  shoot. 
With  store  of  earth  around  to  feed  the  root  ; 
With  iron  teeth  of  rakes,  and  prongs,  to  move 
The  crusted  earth,  and  loosen  it  above. 
Then  exercise  thy  sturdy  steers  to  plough 
Betwixt  thy  vines,  and  teach  the  feeble  row 
To  mount  on  reeds,  and  wands,  and,  upward  led. 
On  ashen  poles  to  raise  their  forky  head. 
On  these  new  crutches  let  them  learn  to  walk. 
Till  swerving  upwards,  with  a  stronger  stalk, 
They  brave  the  winds,  and,  clinging  to  their  guide. 
On  tops  of  elms  at  length  triumphant  ride. 


But  let  thy  hand  supply  the  pruning-knife  ; 
And  crop  luxuriant  stragglers,  nor  be  loth 
To  strip  the  branches  of  their  leafy  growth  : 
But  when  the  rooted  vines,  with  steady  hold, 
Can  clasp  their  elms,  then,  husbandman,  be  bold 
To  lop  the  disobedient  boughs,  that  strayed 
Beyond  their  ranks  :  let  crooked  steel  invade 
The  lawless  troops,  which  discipline  disclaim, 
And  their  superfluous  growth  with  rigor  tame. 

PROTECT  VINES  AGAINST  CATTLE,    GOATS,   ETC. 

Next,  fenced  with  hedges  and  deep  ditches  round. 
Exclude  the  encroaching  cattle  from  thy  ground. 
While  yet  the  tender  germs  but  just  appear. 
Unable  to  sustain  th'  uncertain  year  ; 
Whose  leaves  are  not  alone  foul  Winter's  prey. 
But  oft  by  summer  suns  are  scorched  away  ; 
And,  worse  than  both,  become  th'  unworthy  browse 
Of  buffaloes,  salt  goats,  and  hungry  cows. 
For  not  December's  frost,  that  burns  the  boughs. 
Nor  dog-days'  parching  heat,  that  splits  the  rocks. 
Are  half  so  harmful  as  the  greedy  flocks  ;   [stocks. 
Their   venomed   bite,    and   scars   indented  on  the 


For  this  the  malefactor  goat  was  laid 
On  Bacchus'  altar,  and  his  forfeit  paid. 
At  .\thens  thus  old  comedy  began. 
When  round  the  streets  the  reeling  actors  ran  ; 
In  country  villages,  and  crossing  ways, 
Contending  for  the  prizes  of  their  plays  : 
And  glad  with  Bacchus,  on  the  grassy  soil. 
Leapt  o'er  the  skins  of  goats  besmeared  with  oil. 
Thus  Roman  youth,  derived  from  ruined  Troy, 
In  rude  Saturnian  rhymes  express  their  joy  : 
With  taunts  and  laughter  loud,  their  audience  please. 
Deformed  with  vizards,  cut  from  barks  of  trees  ; 
In  jolly  hymns  they  praise  the  god  of  wine. 
Whose  earthen  images  adorn  the  pine  ; 
And  there  are  hung  on  high,  in  honor  of  the  vine  : 
A  madness  so  devout  the  vineyard  fills. 
In  hollow  valleys  and  on  rising  hills  ; 
On  whate'er  side  he  turns  his  honest  face,     [grace. 
And  dances  in  the  wind,  those  fields  are  in  his 
To  Bacchus  therefore  let  us  tune  our  lays. 
And  in  our  mother-tongue  resound  his  praise. 
Thin  cakes  in  chargers,  and  a  guilty  goat, 
Dragged  by  the  horns,  be  to  his  altars  brought  j 
Whose  oficred  entrails  shall  his  crime  reproach. 
And  drip  their  fatness  from  the  hazel  broach. 


To  dress  thy  vines  new  labor  is  required. 
Nor  must  the  painful  husbandman  be  tired  : 


SUMMER — JULY. 


219 


For  thrice,  at  loMt,  in  compass  of  the  year, 

Thy  vineyard  must  employ  the  sturdy  steer, 

To  turn  the  glebe  ;   besides  thy  daily  pain 

To  break  the  clods,  and  make  the  surface  plain  : 

T"  unload  the  branches,  or  the  leaves  to  thin. 

That  suck  the  vital  moisture  of  the  vine. 

Thus  in  a.  circle  runs  the  peasant's  pain, 

And  the  year  rolls  within  itself  again. 

Ev'n  in  the  lowest  months,  when  storms  have  shed 

From  vines  the  hairy  honors  of  their  head. 

Not  then  the  drudging  hind  his  labor  ends, 

But  to  the  coming  year  bis  care  extends  : 

Ev'n  then  the  naked  vine  he  persecutes  ; 

Ills  pruning-knife  at  once  reforms  and  cuts. 

VISE-DRKSSISG  ;  VISTAOB  ;   PBDSISO  ;  WREDINO  J   LABQB  AND 
3MAI.I.   VINKVABDS. 

Be  first  to  dig  the  ground,  bo  first  to  burn 
The  branches  lopped,  and  first  the  props  return 
Into  thy  house,  that  bore  the  burdened  vines  ; 
But  last  to  reap  the  vintage  of  thy  wines. 
Twice  in  the  year  luxuriant  leaves  o'ershado 

0  ;    rough  brambles  twice  in- 


Uard  labor  both  !  commend  the  large  excess 
Of  spacious  vineyards  ;  cultivate  the  less. 
Besides,  in  woods  the  shrubs  of  prickly  thorn, 
Sallows,  and  reeds,  on  banks  of  rivers  born, 
Itemain  to  cut ;  for  vineyards  useful  found. 
To  stay  thy  vines,  and  fence  thy  fruitful  ground. 


Nor  when  thy  tender  trees  at  length  are  bound  ; 
When  peaceful  vines  from  pruning-hooks  are  free, 
When  husbands  have  surveyed  the  last  degree,    ' 
And  utmost  files  of  plants,  and  ordered  ev'ry  tree  ; 
Ev'n  when  they  sing  at  ease  in  full  content, 
Insulting  o'er  the  toils  they  underwent  ; 
Yet  still  they  find  a  future  task  remain  ; 
To  turn  the  soil,  and  break  the  clods  again  : 
And,  after  all,  their  joys  are  unsinecre, 
While  falling  rains  on  ripening  grapes  they  fear. 

OLIVB    CULTrKE   EASV  J     APPLE-TEKS3. 

Quite  opposite  to  these  are  olives  found. 
No  dressing  they  require  ;  and  dread  no  wound  ; 
No  rakes  nor  harrows  need,  but,  fixed  bcloir. 
Rejoice  in  open  air,  and  uncoucern'dly  grow. 
The  soil  itself  due  nourishment  supplies  : 
Plough  but  the  furrows,  and  the  fruits  arise  : 
Content  with  small  endeavors  till  they  spring. 
Soft  peace  they  figure,  and  sweet  plenty  bring  : 
Then  olives  plant,  and  hymns  to  Pallas  sing. 

Thus  apple-trees,  whoso  trunks  are  strong  to  boar 
Their  spreading  boughs,  exert  themselves  in  air  ; 
Want  no  supply,  but  stand  secure  alone. 
Nor  trusting  foreign  forces,  hut  their  own  ;  [groan. 
Till  with  the  ruddy  freight  the  bending  branches 


Thus  trees  of  i 
Uncultivated  thr 


Vilo   shrubs  are  shorn  for  browse  :    the  ^>we^ing 
Of  unctuous  trees  are  torches  for  the  night,  [height 
And  shall  wo  doubt  (indulging  easy  .•^lntli) 
Tti  sow,  tit  set*  and  to  reform  their  growth  ? 
To  leave  the  lofty  plants  ;  the  lowly  kind 
Are  for  the  shepherd,  or  tho  sheep,  designed. 
Ev'n  humble  broom  and  osiers  havo  their  use. 
And  shade  forVoep  and  food  for  flocks  produce  ; 
Hedges  for  corn,  and  honey  for  tho  bees  : 
Besides  the  pleasing  prospect  of  tho  trees. 

USES  OF  THE   CEDAB,  PISE,  *!ID     OTIIBK    TREES  ;     CTTORCS, 


How  goodly  looks  Cytonis,  over  green 
With  boxen  groves,  with  what  delight  are  seen 
Xarycian  woods  of  pitch,  whoso  gloomy  shade 
Seems  for  retreat  of  heavenly  muses  made  ! 
But  much  more  pleasing  aro  those  fields  to  see. 
That  need  not  ploughs  nor  human  industry. 
Ev'n  cold  Caucasian  rocks  with  trees  aro  spread. 
And  wear  green  forests  on  their  billy  head. 
Tliimgh  bending  from  the  blast  of  eiistern  storms, 
Though  shent  their  leaves,  and  shattered  are  their 


Yet  heaven  their  v 
For  houses  cedars. 


I  for  1 


;  design 


Cypress  provides  for  spokes  and  wheels  of  wains  : 
And  all  for  keels  of  ships,  that  scour  the  wat'ry 

plains. 
Willows  in  twigs  aro  fruitful,  elms  in  leaves  ; 
The  war  from  stubborn  myrtles  shafts  receives  : 
From  cornels  javelins  ;   tlie  tougher  yew 


Which 


uuy 


ir  use  aro  made, 
the  turner's  trade  ; 
vc,  and  steel  with 


Light  alder  stems  tho  Po's  impetuous  tide. 
And  bees  in  hollow  oaks  their  honey  hide. 
Now  balance,  with  these  gifts,  the  fumy  joys 
Of  wine,  attended  with  eternal  noise. 
Wine  urged  to  lawless  lust  tho  Centaur's  train, 
Through  wine  they  quarrelled,  and  through  \ 
were  slain. 

COSfiRAXn-ATlOS  TO    FARMERS  J    TDRIR    VABIOtrS    HAPPI 


I  C0.NTR48T  WITB  THE  LCXIRY  OF  PALACES  ; 
ASTR.f:A. 

0  happy,  if  he  knew  his  happy  state  ! 
The  swain,  who,  free  from  business  and  debate, 
Receives  his  easy  food  from  Nature's  hand, 
And  just  returns  of  cultivated  land  ! 
No  palace,  with  a  lofty  gate,  he  wants 
T'  admit  the  tides  of  early  visitants. 
With  eager  eyes  devouring,  as  they  pass. 
The  breathing  figures  of  Corinthian  brass. 
No  statues  threaten,  from  high  pedestals  ; 
No  Persian  arras  hides  his  homely  walls. 
With  antic  vests  ;  which,  through  their  shady  fold. 
Betray  the  streaks  of  ill-dissembled  gold. 


220 


RURAL    POETRY. 


He  boasts  no  wool,  whose  native  white  is  dyed 

With  purple  poison  of  Assyrian  pride. 

No  costly  drugs  of  Araby  defile, 

With  foreign  scents,  the  sweetness  of  his  oil. 

But  easy  quiet,  a  secure  retreat, 

A  harmless  life  that  knows  not  how  to  cheat, 

With  home-bred  plenty  the  rich  owner  bless. 

And  rural  pleasures  crown  his  happiness. 

Unvexed  with  quarrels,  undisturbed  with  noise. 

The  country  king  his  peaceful  realm  enjoys  : 

Cool  grots,  and  living  lakes,  the  flowery  pride 

Of   meads,   and  streams,  that  through    the   valley 

And  .sliady  groves  that  easy  sleep  invite,        [glide. 

And,  alter  toilsome  days,  a  soft  repose  at  night. 

Wild  beasts  of  nature  in  his  woods  abound  ; 

And  youth,  of  labor  patient,  plough  the  ground. 

Inured  to  hardship,  and  to  homely  fare. 

Nor  venerable  age  is  wanting  there, 

In  great  examples  to  the  youthful  train  : 

Nor  are  the  gods  adored  with  rites  profane. 

From  hence  Astrtea  took  her  flight,  and  here 

The  prints  of  her  departing  steps  appear. 

;HB  MOSES   FOR  A  KNOWLEDGE  OF  THE  LAWS 
OB  FOR  RUKAL   PEACE  AND   SECLUSION. 

Ye  sacred  Muses,  with  whose  beauty  fired. 
My  soul  is  ravished,  and  my  brain  inspired  ; 
Whose  priest  I  am,  whose  holy  fillets  wear  ; 
Would  you  your  poet's  first  petition  hear  ; 
Give  me  the  ways  of  wandering  stars  to  know  : 
The  depths  of  heaven  above,  and  earth  below. 
Teach  me  the  various  labors  of  the  moon. 
And  whence  proceed  the  eclipses  of  the  sun. 
Why  flowing  tides  prevail  upon  the  main, 
And  in  wliat  dark  recess  they  shrink  again. 
What  shakes  the  solid  earth,  what  cause  delays 
The  suminir  nijihts,  and  shortens  winter  days. 

But  if  my  li.:i\>  111 1  iistrain  the  flight 

Of  my  li.r  -,,ul,  :i-]iiiiii-  t.)  the  height 
Of  naturr.  iHi.l  u,,rl,nMr,l  Holds  of  light; 
Jly  next  ilt--^iiL-  is,  void  of  care  and  strife. 
To  lead  a  soft,  secure,  inglorious  life. 
A  country  cottage  near  a  crystal  flood, 
A  winding  valley,  and  a  lulty  wui.d  ; 
Some  god  conduct  nic  V'  Un'  -;hird  shades. 
Where  bacchanals  ;uv  miu-  l^y  -|.;iilan  maids, 
Or  lift  mo  high  t..  Ih, mu^-  hilly  .  ruwn  ; 
Or  in  the  plains  of  Tempo  lay  lue  down  : 
Or  lead  me  to  some  solitary  place. 
And  cover  my  retreat  from  human  race. 


Happy  the  man,  who,  studying  nature  s  laws. 
Through  known  effects  can  trace  the  secret  cause. 
His  mind  possessing  in  a  quiet  state, 
Fearless  of  fortune,  and  resigned  to  fate. 
And  happy  too  is  he,  who  decks  the  bowers 
Of  sylvans,  and  adores  the  rural  powers  : 
Whose  mind,  unmoved,  the  bribes  of  courts  can  see 
Their  glittering  baits,  and  purple  slavery. 
Nor  hopes  the  people's  praise,  nor  fears  their  frown 


Nor,  when  contending  kindred  tear  the  crown. 
Will  set  up  one,  or  pull  another  down. 

Without  concern  he  hears,  but  hears  from  far, 
Of  tumults,  and  disfeents",  and  distant  war  : 
Nor  with  a  superstitious  fear  is  awed, 
For  what  befalls  at  home,  or  what  abroad. 
Nor  envies  he  the  rich  their  heapy  store. 
Nor  his  own  peace  disturbs  with  pity  for  the  poor. 
He  feeds  on  fruits,  which,  of  their  own  accord, 
The  willing  ground  and  laden  trees  afford. 

COURTIERS,    DEMAGOGUES,  MISERS,   MONEY-GETTERS. 

From  his  loved  home  no  lucre  him  can  draw  ; 
The  senate's  mad  decrees  he  never  saw  ; 
Nor  heard,  at  bawling  bars,  corrupted  law. 
Some  to  the  seas,  and  some  to  camps  resort. 
And  some  with  impudence  invade  the  court. 
In  foreign  countries  others  seek  renown  ; 
With  wars  and  taxes  others  waste  their  own, 
And  houses  burn,  and  household  gods  deface, 
To  drink  in  bowls  which  glittering  gems  enchase  : 
To  loll  on  couches,  rich  with  citron  steds, 
And  lay  their  guilty  limbs  in  Tyrian  beds. 
This  wretch  in  earth  entombs  his  golden  ore. 
Hovering  and  brooding  on  his  buried  store. 
Some  patriot  fools  to  popular  praise  aspire. 
Of  public  speeches,  which  worse  fools  admire  ; 
While  from  both  benches,  with  redoubled  sounds, 
Th'  applause  of  lords  and  commoners  abounds. 
Some  through  ambition,  or  through  thirst  of  gold, 
Have  slain  their  brothers,  or  their  country  sold  ; 
And,  leaving  their  sweet  homes,  in  exile  run 
To  lands  that  lie  beneath  another  sun. 

THE  PEACEFUL  LIFE  OF  THE  PEASANT. 

The  peasant,  innocent  of  all  these  ills. 
With  crooked  ploughs  the  fertile  fallows  tills  ; 
And  the  round  year  with  daily  labor  fills. 
From  hence  the  country  markets  are  supplied  : 
Enough  remains  for  household  charge  beside  ; 
His  wife  and  tender  children  to  sustain. 
And  gratefully  to  feed  his  dumb,  deserving  train. 
Nor  cease  his  labors  till  the  yellow  field 
A  full  return  of  bearded  harvest  yield  ; 
A  crop  so  plenteous,  as  the  land  to  load,      [abroad. 
O'ercome   the   crowded  barns,  and  lodge  on  ricks 


Thus  every  several  season  is  employed  : 
Some  spent  in  toil,  and  some  in  ease  enjoyed. 
The  yeaning  ewes  prevent  the  springing  year  ; 
The  laded  boughs  their  fruits  in  Autumn  bear  : 
'T  is  then  the  vine  her  liquid  harvest  yields, 
Baked  in  the  sunshine  of  ascending  fields.  | 

The  Winter  comes,  and  then  the  falling  mast 
For  greedy  swine  provides  a  full  repast. 
Then  olives,  ground  in  mills,  their  fatness  boast 
And  winter  fruits  are  mellowed  by  the  frost. 
His  cares  are  eased  with  intervals  of  bliss  ; 
His  little  children,  climbing  for  a  kiss, 


SUMMER  —  JULY. 


221 


Welcome  their  father's  late  return  at  night ; 
Uis  faithful  bed  is  crowned  with  chaste  delight. 
His  kiuo  with  swelling  udders  ready  stand, 
And,  lowing  for  the  pail,  invite  the  milker's  ham 
His  wanton  kids,  witli  budding  horns  prepared, 
Fight  harmless  battles  in  his  homely  yard  : 
Himself,  in  rustic  pomp,  on  holidayi*, 
To  rural  powers  a  just  oblation  pays  ; 
And  on  the  groen  his  careless  limbs  displays. 


The  hearth  is  in  the  midst ;  the  herdsmen  round 
The  cheerful  fire   provoke  his   health  in   goblets 

crowned. 
He  calls  on  Bacchus,  and  propounds  the  prize  ; 
The  groom  his  fellow-groom  at  huts  defies  ; 
And  bends  his  bow,  and  levels  with  his  eyes. 
Or,  stripped  for  wrestling,  smears  his  limbs  with  oil, 
And  watches  with  a  trip  his  foe  to  foil. 
Such  was  the  life  the  frugal  Sabines  led  ; 
So  Remus  and  his  brother-god  were  bred  : 
From  whom  the  austere  Etrurian  virtue  rose  ; 
And  this  rude  life  our  homely  fathers  chose. 

RCSTIC  VIRTUBS    OF    THE    OLD    ROMANS. —SiTCRS   AND    THE 

Old  Rome  from  such  a  race  derived  her  birth  — 
The  seat  of  empire,  and  the  conquered  earth  — 
Mhich  now  on  seven  high  hills  triumphant  reigns, 
And  in  tliat  compass  all  the  world  contains. 
E*er  Saturn's  rebel  son  usurped  the  skies, 
When  beasts  were  only  slain  for  sacrifice  : 
While  peaceful  Crete  enjoyed  her  ancient  lord  ; 
E'er  sounding  hammers  forged  the  inhuman  sword,: 
E'er  hollow  drums  were  beat  ;  before  the  breath 
Of  brazen  trumpets  rung  the  peals  of  death  ; 
The  good  old  god  his  hunger  did  assuage 
With  roots  and  herbs,  and  gave  the  Golden  Age. 
But,  over-labored  with  so  long  a  course, 
'T  is  time  to  set  at  case  the  smoking  horse. 


rural  deities, 
which  Virgil  directs 
:*  suhj.ct.     lie  liiys 


;he  force  of  Jove,  aw 
■  part  uf  the  book  Ik 
to  CKttle  ;  and  ends  with  the 
that  furmcrly  raged  amoug  t 


Thy  fields,  propitious  Pales,  I  rehearse  ; 
And  sing  thy  pastures  in  no  vulgar  verse, 
Ampbrysian  shepherd  ;  the  Lycrcan  woods  ; 
Arcadia's  flowery  plains,  and  pleasing  floods. 

All  other  themes,  that  careless  minds  invite. 
Are  worn  with  use  ;  unworthy  me  to  write, 


Busiris'  altars,  and  the  dire  decrees 
or  hard  Eurystbeus,  every  reader  sees  : 
llylas  the  boy,  Latona's  erring  isle. 
And  Pelops'  ivory  shoulder,  and  his  toil 
For  fair  Ilippodnmo,  with  all  the  rest 
Of  lireciau  tales,  by  poota  ore  expressed  : 
New  ways  I  must  attempt,  my  grovelling  name 
To  raise  aluft,  and  wing  my  flight  to  fame. 


I,  first  of  Romans,  shall  in  triumph  come 
From  conquered  Greece,  and  bring  her  trophies  home : 
With  foreign  spoils  adorn  my  native  place  ; 
And  with  Idume's  palms  my  Mantua  grace. 
Of  Parian  stone  a  temple  will  I  niisc. 
Where  the  slow  Alincius  through  the  valley  strays  : 
Where  cooling  streams  invite  the  flocks  to  drink  : 
And  reeds  defend  the  winding  water's  brink. 

COMPLIMENT  TO   ArorSTfS 


Full  in  the  midst  shall  mighty  Cjcsar  stand  ; 
Hold  the  chief  honors,  and  the  dome  command. 
Then  I,  conspicuous  in  my  Tyrian  gown 
(Submitting  to  bis  godhead  my  renown), 
A  hundred  coursers  from  the  goal  will  drive  ; 
The  rival  chariots  in  the  ru'ie  shall  strive. 
All  Greece  shall  flock  from  far,  my  games  to  see  ; 
The  whirlbut,  and  the  rapid  race,  shall  bo 
Reserved  for  Ctesar,  and  ordained  by  me. 
Myself,  with  olive  crowned,  the  gilts  will  bear  : 
Even  now  methinks  the  public  shouts  I  hear  ; 
The  passing  pageants,  and  the  pomps  appear. 
I  to  the  temple  will  conduct  the  crew  : 
The  sacrifice  and  sacrificers  view  ; 
From  thenco  return,  attended  with  ray  train, 
Where  the  proud  theatres  disclose  the  scene  ; 
Which  interwoven  Britons  seem  to  raise, 
And  show  the  triumph  which  their  shame  displays 


High  o'er  the  gate,  in  elephant  and  gold, 
The  crowd  shall  Csesar's  Indian  war  behold  ; 
The  Nile  shall  flow  beneath  ;  and  on  the  side 
His  shattered  ships  on  brazen  pillars  ride. 
Next  him  Niphatos,  with  inverted  urn. 
And  dropping  sedge,  shall  his  Armenia  mourn  ; 
And  Asian  cities  in  our  triumph  born. 
With  backward  bows  the  Parthians  shall  be  there  ; 
And,  spurring  from  the  fight,  confess  their  fear. 
A  double  wreath  shall  crown  our  Caesar's  brows  ; 
Twt)  ditfering  trophies,  from  two  different  foes. 
Europe  with  Afric  in  his  fame  shall  join  ; 
Hut  neither  shore  his  conquest  shall  confine. 
The  Parian  marble,  there,  shall  seem  to  move 
In  breathing  statues,  not  unworthy  Jove  : 
Resembling  heroes,  whose  ethereal  root 
Is  Jove  himself,  and  Cccsar  is  the  fruit. 
Tros  and  his  race  the  sculptor  shall  employ  ; 
And  he,  the  god,  who  built  the  walls  of  Troy. 


222 


RURAL  POETRY.  —  VIRGIL. 


Envy  herself  at  last,  grown  pale  and  dumb 

(By  CiBsar  combated  and  overcome), 

Shall  give  her  hand  ;  and  fear  the  curling  snakes 

Of  lashing  furies,  and  the  burning  lakes  : 

The  pains  of  famished  Tantalus  shall  feel  ; 

And  Sisyphus  that  labors  up  the  hill 

The  rolling  rock  in  vain ;  and  cursed  Ixion's  wheel. 


Meantime  we  must  pursue  the  sylvan  lands, 
The  abode  of  nymphs,  untouched  by  former  hands  : 
For  such,  Maecenas,  are  thy  hard  commands. 
Without  thee  nothing  lofty  can  I  sing  ; 
Come,  then,  and  with  thyself  thy  genius  bring  : 
With  which  inspired,  I  brook  no  dull  delay. 
Citha^roni  loudly  calls  me  to  my  way  ; 
Thy  li'.iiii  (-    T.p\  -.  Ill,  njien  and  pursue  their  prey. 
Hi-li  1,1     '  "'  '       II  -     "H  my  speed, 
Faiin'i  I    I  1:      h    1      in, I  f'nr  his  horses' breed  : 
From  lull-  :iiil  .hilr.  I  lir  cheerful  cries  rebound  ; 
For  echo  hunts  along,  and  propagates  the  sound. 

A  time  will  come,  when  my  maturer  muse, 
In  Caisar's  wars,  a  nobler  theme  shall  choose. 
And  through  more  ages  bear  my  sovereign's  praise. 
Than  have  from  Tithon  past  to  Caesar's  days. 


The  generous  youth,  who,  studious  of  the  prize, 
The  race  of  running  coursers  multiplies  ; 
Or  to  the  plough  the  sturdy  bullock  breeds. 
May  know  that  from  the  dam  the  worth  of  each 

proceeds. 
The  mother-cow  must  wear  a  lowering  look, 
Sour-headed,  strongly  necked,  to  bear  the  yoke. 
Her  double  dew-lap  from  her  chin  descends  : 
And  at  her  thighs  the  ponderous  burthen  ends. 
Long  are  her  sides  and  large,  licr  limbs  are  Kit'at  ; 
Rough  are  her  ears,  and  l.i.i.il  h,  r  iLiny  li .  i. 
Her  color  shining  black,  till  [  il,,kr.|  unl,  \vMitr; 
She  tosses  from  the  yoke  ;    i  i    ^  .1  ,     il,,    nit 

And  in  I  ■  I  I.I  .    .  I.    ||'    I.    .  nil. I  iiinr  bcars  : 


But,  after  ten,  from  nuptial  rites  refrain. 
Six  seasons  use  ;  but  then  release  the  cow, 
Unat  for  love,  and  for  the  laboring  plough. 


Now,  while  their  youth  is  filled  with  kindly  fire. 
Submit  thy  females  to  the  lusty  sire.  2    #     *     * 

In  youth  alone,  unhappy  mortals  live  ; 
But,  ah  !  the  mighty  bliss  is  fugitive  ; 
Discolored  'sickness,  anxious  labors  come, 
And  age,  and  death's  inexorable  doom. 

Yearly  thy  herds  in  vigor  will  impair  ; 


Recruit  and  mend  'em  with  thy  yearly  care  : 
Still  propagate,  for  still  they  fall  away, 
'T  is  prudence  to  prevent  the  entire  decay. 

GOOD    POINTS  IN   A  STALLION. 

Like  diligence  requires  the  courser's  race  ; 
In  early  choice,  and  for  a  longer  space. 
The  colt,  that  for  a  stallion  is  designed, 
By  sure  presages  shows  his  generous  kind  ; 
Of  able  body,  sound  of  limb  and  wind, 
Upright  he  walks,  on  pasterns  firm  and  straight ; 
His  motions  easy  ;  prancing  in  his  gait. 
The  first  to  lead  the  way,  to  tempt  the  flood  ; 
To  pass  the  bridge  unknown,  nor  fear  the  trembling 
Dauntless  at  empty  noises  ;   lofty  necked  ;      [wood. 
Sharp-headed,  barrel-bellied,  broadly  backed. 
Brawny  his  chest,  and  deep  ;  his  color  gray, 
For  beauty,  dappled,  —  or  the  brightest  bay  ; 
Faint  white  and  dun  will  scarce  the  rearing  pay. 


The  fiery  courser,  when  he  hears  from  far 
The  sprightly  trumpets,  and  the  shouts  of  war. 
Pricks  up  his  ears  ;  and,  trembling  with  delight. 
Shifts  place,  and  paws;  and  hopes  the  promised  fight. 
On  his  right  shoulder  his  thick  mane  reclined, 
RufHes  at  speed,  and  dances  in  the  wind. 
His  horny  hoofs  are  jetty  black,  and  round  ; 
His  chine  is  double  ;  starting,  with  a  bound 
He  turns  the  turf,  and  shakes  the  solid  ground. 
Fire  from  his  eyes,  clouds  from  his  nostrils  flow  : 
Ho  bears  his  rider  headlong  on  the  foe. 

THE  COCRSER  CTLLARUS  ;  SATCRN  TRANSFORMED  TO  A  HORSE. 

Such  was  the  steed  in  Grecian  poets  famed, 
Proud  Cyllarus,  by  Spartan  Pollux  tamed  : 

ore  to  figlit  the  g.,d  of  Thrace  ; 


The  lecher  galloped  from  his  jealous  queen  ; 

Ran  up  the  ridges  of  the  rocks  amain  ;  [plain. 

And  with  shrill  ncighings  filled  the  neighboring 

But  worn  with  years,  when  dire  diseases  come, 
Tlien  hide  his  not  ignoble  age  at  home  : 
In  peace  to  enjoy  his  former  palms  and  pains  ; 
And  gratefully  be  kind  to  his  remains. 
For  when  liis  blood  no  youthful  spirits  move, 
He  languishes  and  labors  in  his  love.'      *     *     » 
In  vain  he  burns,  like  hasty  stubble  fires  ; 
And  in  himself  his  former  self  requires. 

THE  BLOOD   HORSE;   TOE  CHARIOT  RACE  DESCRIBED. 

His  ago  and  courage  weigh  :  nor  those  alone, 
But  not  his  father's  virtues  nor  his  own  ; 
Observe  if  he  disdains  to  yield  the  prize  ; 
Of  loss  impatient,  proud  of  victories. 
1  Frigidus  in  Venerem  senior ;  frustraque  laborem 
Ingratum  trahit ;  et,  si  quando  ad  piielia  ventum  est,  etc. 


llast  thou  bobold,  when  from  the  goal  they  start, 
The  youthful  charioteers,  with  heaving  heart, 
Rush  to  the  race  ;  and,  panting,  sonrcely  bear 
The  oxtremoa  of  feverish  hope,  and  ehilling  fear  ; 
Stoop  to  the  reins,  and  lash  with  all  their  force  j 
The  flying  chariot  kindles  in  the  course  : 
And  now  a-low,  and  now  aloft  they  fly, 
As  borne  through  air,  and  seem  to  touch  the  sky. 
No  stop,  no  stay,  but  clouds  of  sand  arise, 
Spurned  and  oast  back  upon  the  follower's  eyes. 
The  hindmost  blows  the  foam  upon  the  first : 
Such  is  the  love  of  praise,  —  an  honorable  thirst. 


i   LAPITn.E,   HORSJ>BIlEAKERS. 

Bold  Erichthonius  was  the  first,  who  joined 
Four  horses  for  the  rapid  race  dc?*igncd  ; 
And  o'er  the  dusty  wheels  presiding  sat  ; 
The  Lapitha;  to  chariots  add  the  state 
Of  bits  and  bridles  ;  taught  the  steed  to  bound. 
To  run  the  ring,  and  trace  the  mazy  round  ; 
To  stop,  to  fly  ;  the  rules  of  war  to  know  ; 
To  obey  the  rider,  and  to  dare  the  foe. 


To  choose  a  youthful  steed,  with  courage  fired  ; 
To  breed  him,  break  him,  back  him,  are  required 
Kxperienced  masters  ;  and  in  sundry  ways  : 
Their  labors  equal,  and  alike  their  praise. 
But  once  again  the  battered  horse  beware. 
The  weak  old  stallion  will  deceive  thy  care. 
Though  famous  in  his  youth  for  force  and  speed, 
Or  was  of  Argos  or  Epirian  breed. 
Or  did  from  Neptune's  race,  or  from  himself  proceed. 

These  things  premised,  when  now  the  nuptial  time 
Approaches  for  the  stately  steed  to  climb  ; 
With  food  enable  him  to  make  his  court  ; 
Distend  bis  chine,  and  pamper  him  for  sport. 
Feed  hira  with  herbs,  whatever  thou  canst  find. 
Of  generous  warmth,  and  of  salacious  kind. 
Then  water  him,  and  (drinking  what  he  can) 
Encourage  him  to  thirst  again,  with  bran."  *  * 
For  if  the  sire  bo  faint,  and  out  of  ease. 
He  will  be  copied  in  his  famished  race  : 
And  sink  beneath  the  pleasing  tJisk  assigned.'  *  * 

CABE   OF   BROOD    MARKS. 

.\s  for  the  females,  with  industrious  care 
Take  down  their  mettle,  keep  'cm  lean  and  bare  ; 
When  conscious  of  their  past  delight,  and  keen '  *  * 
With  scanty  measure  then  supply  their  food  ; 
And,  when  athirst,  restrain  'em  from  the  flood  : 
Their  bodies  harass,  sink  'em  when  they  run  ; 
And  fry  their  melting  marrow  in  the  sun. 
Starve  'em,  when  barns  beneath  their  burden  groan, 
And  winnowed  chaff  by  western  winds  is  blown.-  *  * 

1  Two  lines  are  omitted  after  6ran,  and  one,  each,  after 
cutxiijned  and  keen  ;  their  grossness  Is  not  in  the  oriRinftl.  J. 

s  Six  lines  are  here  omitted  }  they  i 
the  fuilowiuK  three : 

Hoc  lUctunt,  nlmlo  ne  Iiixu  otituslor  usus 

Sll  Benitall  flrvo.  et  sulcus  obllmcl  Inertes  : 

Setl  rapiat  sltlens  Veuerem,  Interlusque  recondat. 


!  the  translation  of 


The  male  has  done  ;  thy  care  must  now  proceed 
To  teeming  females,  and  the  promised  breed. 
First  let  'cm  run  at  large  ;  and  never  know 
The  tjimiug  yoke,  or  draw  the  crooked  plough. 
Ixt  'om  not  leap  the  ditch,  or  swim  the  flood  ; 
Or  lumber  o'er  the  meads  ;  or  cross  the  wood. 
But  range  the  forest,  by  the  silver  side 
Of  some  cool  stream,  where  nature  shall  provide 
Green  grass  and  fattening  clover  for  their  faro  ; 
And  mossy  caverns  for  their  noontide  hire  : 
With  rocks  above  to  shield  the  sharp  nocturnal  air. 

TUK  GADFLY  J  RltPLOYED  DV  jrSO  J  rRBCAUTIOX. 

About  the  Alburnian  groves,  with  holly  green. 
Of  winged  insects  mighty  swarms  are  scon  : 
This  flying  plague  (to  mark  its  quality) 
Oestros  the  Grecians  call  ;  Asylus,  we  : 
A  fierce  loud  bunzing  breeze ;  their  stings  draw  blood, 
And  drive  the  cattle  gadding  through  the  wood. 
Seized  with  unusual  pains,  they  loudly  cry,    _.^ 
TaiiiiL'i  II-  !i:i  !■  II    ilh  ii.r.  and  leaves  his  channel  dry. 
Tlii-    II    '     II     I    li    I    Juno  did  invent. 

Ami  1 i  ;        I      I   Ill's  punishment. 

Totliiiii  ilii    ill.  i!i.   .iMining  leech  ordains 
In  summer's  sultry  beats  (for  then  it  reigns) 
To  feed  the  females  ere  the  sun  arise. 
Or  late  at  night,  when  stars  adorn  the  skies. 

CARE  OF  CALVES  ',  THEIR  SELKCTIOX  AND  TRAISIXfi. 

When  she  has  calved,  then  set  the  dam  aside  ; 


Wli !■    !■ I   I   ■>  <    I    i.i  HI  ; 

Or  Hh..  ,-l,.ill  I..-  I..  ...icliti  |„u.iiol  , 
Or  whom  tliou  shalt  to  turn  thy  glebe  allow  ; 
To  smooth  the  furrows,  and  sustain  the  plough  ; 
The  rest,  for  whom  no  lot  is  yet  decreed. 
May  run  in  pastures,  and  at  pleasure  feed. 


The  calf,  by  nature  and  by  genius  made 
To  turn  the  glebe,  breed  to  the  rural  trade. 
Set  him  betimes  to  school,  and  let  him  bo 
Instructed  there  in  rules  of  husbandry  : 
While  yet  his  youth  is  flexible  and  green  ; 
Nor  bad  examples  of  the  world  has  seen. 
Early  begin  the  stubborn  child  to  break  ; 
For  his  soft  neck  a  supple  collar  make 
Of  bending  osiers  ;  and  (with  time  and  care 
Inured  that  easy  servitude  to  bear) 
Thy  flattering  method  on  the  youth  pursue  : 
Joine<l  with  his  school-fellows,  by  two  and  two. 
Persuade  'm  first  to  lead  an  empty  wheel. 
That  scarce  the  dust  can  raise  ;  or  they  can  feel  ; 
In  length  of  time  produce  the  laboring  yoke 
And  shining  shares,  that  make  the  furrows  smoke. 
E'er  the  licentious  youth  be  thus  restrained. 
Or  moral  precepts  on  their  minds  have  gained. 
Their  wanton  appetites  not  only  feed 
With  delicatcs  of  leaves,  and  marshy  weed, 


224 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  VIRGIL. 


But  with  thy  sickle  reap  the  rankest  land  ; 
And  minister  the  blade  with  bounteous  hand. 
Nor  be  with  harmful  parsimony  won 
To  follow  what  our  homely  sires  have  done  ; 
Who  filled  the  pail  with  beastings  of  the  cow  ; 
But  all  her  udder  to  the  calf  allow. 

TKilNlNO  THE  TOCNG  HORSE  ;   THE  WiR-HOHSE  ;    THE  RACER. 

If  to  the  warlike  steed  thy  studies  bend, 
Or  for  the  prize  in  chariots  to  contend  ; 
Near  Pisa's  flood  the  rapid  wheels  to  guide, 
Or  in  Olympian  groves  aloft  to  ride, 
The  generous  labors  of  the  courser,  first,       [nurst : 
Must  be  with  sight  of  arms  and  sound  of  trumpets 
Inured  the  groaning  axle-tree  to  bear. 
And  let  him  clashing  whips  in  stables  hear. 
Soothe  him  with  praise,  and  make  him  understand 
The  loud  applauses  of  his  master's  hand  : 
This  from  his  weaning  let  him  well  be  taught, 
And  then  betimes  in  a  soft  snaffle  wrought  : 
Before  his  tender  joints  with  nerves  are  knit  ; 
Untried  in  arms,  and  trembling  at  the  bit. 
But  when  to  four  full  springs  his  years  advance. 
Teach  him  to  run  the  round,  with  pride  to  prance  ; 
And  (rightly  managed)  equal  time  to  beat  ; 
To  turn,  to  bound  in  measure,  and  curvet. 
Let  him  to  this  with  easy  pains  be  brought  : 
And  seem  to  labor,  when  he  labors  not. 


DESCRIPTION 


:-HOBSE  ;     COMPAR 


Thus  formed  for  speed,  he  challenges  the  wind  ; 
And  leaves  the  Scythian  arrow  far  behind  : 
He  scours  along  the  field,  with  loosened  reins. 
And  treads  so  light,  he  scarcely  prints  the  plains. 
Like  Boreas  in  his  race,  when  rushing  forth. 
He  sweeps  the  skies,  and  clears  the  cloudy  north  : 
The  waving  harvest  bends  beneath  his  blast ; 
The  forest  shakes,  the  groves  their  honors  cast ; 
He  flies  aloft,  and,  with  impetuous  roar, 
Pursues  the  foaming  surges  to  the  shore. 
Thus  o'er  the  Elean  plains  the  well-breathed  horse 
Impels  the  flying  car,  and  wins  the  course. 
Or,  bred  to  Belgian  wagons,  leads  the  way  ; 
Untired  at  night,  and  cheerful  all  the  day. 


When  once  he's  broken,  feed  him  full  and  high  : 
Indulge  his  growtli.  :nid  his  i^;iuiit  sides  supply. 
Before  his  training-,  k.  r|,  huii  |M,nr  and  low  ; 

For  his  stout  stmiiMrli  «  iih  In-  r 1  (vill  grow  ; 

The  pampered  colt  will  disriijliiie  disdain. 
Impatient  of  the  lash,  and  restive  to  the  rein. 

Wouldst  thou  their  courage  and  their  strength 
improve  ? 
Too  soon  they  must  not  feel  the  stings  of  love, 
Whether  the  bull  or  courser  be  thy  care  :  *  * 
The  youthful  bull  must  wander  in  the  wood  ; 
Behind  the  mountain,  or  beyond  the  flood  : 
Or  in  the  stall  at  home  his  fodder  find, 
Far  from  the  charms  of  that  alluring  kind. 


With  two  fair  eyes  his  mistress  burns  his  breast  ; 

He  looks,  and  languishes,  and  leaves  his  rest ; 

Forsakes  his  food,  and,  pining  for  the  lass. 

Is  'joyless  of  the  grove,  and  spurns  the  growing  grass. 

The  soft  seducer,  with  enticing  looks, 

The  bellowing  rivals  to  the  fight  provokes. 

A  beauteous  heifer  in  the  woods  is  bred  ; 
The  stooping  warriors,  aiming  head  to  head. 
Engage  their  clashing  horns  ;  with  dreadful  sound 
The  forest  rattles,  and  the  rocks  rebound. 
They  fence,  they  push,  and  pushing  loudly  roar  ; 
Their  dewlaps  and  their  sides  are  bathed  in  gore. 
Nor  when  the  war  is  over  is  it  peace  ; 
Nor  will  the  vanquished  bull  his  claim  release  : 
But  feeding  in  his  breast  his  ancient  fires. 
And  cursing  fate,  from  his  proud  foe  retires. 
Driven  from  his  native  land  to  foreign  grounds. 
He  with  a  generous  rage  resents  his  wounds  ; 
His  ignominious  flight,  the  victor's  boast,  [lost. 

And,  more  than  both,  the  loves,  which  unrevenged  he 


Often  he  turns  his  eyes,  and,  with  a  groan, 


^eys  t 


And  therefore  to  repair  his  strength  he  tries  ; 

Hardening  his  limbs  with  painful  exercise. 

And  rough  upon  the  flinty  rock  he  lies. 

On  prickly  leaves  and  on  sharp  herbs  he  feeds, 

Then  to  the  prelude  of  a  war  proceeds. 

His  horns,  yet  sore,  he  tries  against  a  tree  ; 

And  meditates  his  absent  enemy. 

He  snufis  the  whv\.  hi-  In  i-1-  fhr  sand  excite  ; 

But,  when  In         I   :    .  i  in  his  might, 

He  roars,  an>l  ;      i.  i  .      ■  i-  -iicccssful  fight. 

Then,  to  n^.lr,  ,n  l„-  I,.,,,,,,   ;,1  a  l,l„w, 
He  moves  his  cani]!,  to  meet  his  careless  foe. 
Not  with  more  madness,  rolling  from  afar, 
The  spumy  waves  proclaim  the  watery  war, 
And  mounting  upwards,  with  a  mighty  rctar, 
March  onwards,  and  insult  the  rooky  shore. 
They  mate  the  middle  region  with  their  height  ; 
And  fall  no  less  than  with  a  mountain's  weight  : 
The  waters  boil,  and  belching  from  below. 
Black  sands  as  from  a  forceful  engine  throw. 


THE  1 


PHYSICAL  I 


Thus  every  creature,  and  of  every  kind. 
The  secret  joys  of  [reproduction]  find  : 
Not  only  man's  imperial  race  ;  but  they 
That  wing  the  liquid  air,  or  swim  the  sea. 
Or  haunt  the  desert,  rush  into  the  flame  : 
For  love  is  lord  of  all  ;  and  is  in  all  the  same. 

'T  is  with  this  rage,  the  mother-lion  stung. 
Scours  o'er  the  plain,  regardless  of  her  young  ; 
Demanding  rites  of  love,  she  sternly  stalks  ; 
And  hunts  her  lover  in  his  lonely  walks. 
'T  is  then  the  shapeless  bear  his  den  forsakes  ; 
In  woods  and  fields  a  wild  destruction  makes. 


SUMMER  —  JOLT. 


225 


Boars  whet  their  tusks  j  to  battle  tigers  moTO  ; 

Enraged  with  hunger,  more  enraged  with  love. 

Then  woe  to  him  that  in  the  desert  land 

Of  Libya  travels,  o'er  the  burning  sand. 

The  stallion  snuffs  the  well-known  scent  afar, 

And  snorts  and  trembles  for  the  distant  mare  ; 

Nor  bits  nor  bridles  can  his  rage  restrain  ; 

And  rugged  rocks  are  interposed  in  vain  : 

Ho  makes  his  way  o'er  mountains,  tind  contemns 

Unruly  torrents,  and  unforded  streams. 

The  bristled  boar,  who  feels  the  pleasing  wound, 

Now  grinds  his  arming  tusks,  and  digs  the  ground. 

Tho  sleepy  lecher  shuts  his  little  eyes  ; 

About  his  churning  chaps  tho  frothy  bubbles  rise  : 

He  rubs  his  sides  against  a  tree  ;  prepares 

And  hardens  both  his  shoulders  for  the  wars. 

ALI.TOIOS  TO  THE  STORY  OP  LEASDEB. 

What  did  the  youth,  when  love's  unerring  dart 
Transfixed  his  liver,  and  inflamed  his  heart? 
Alone,  by  night,  his  watery  way  he  took  ; 
About  him,  and  above,  the  billows  broke  : 
The  sluices  of  the  sky  wore  open  spread. 
And  rolling  thunder  rattled  o'er  his  head. 
The  raging  tempest  called  him  back  in  vain. 
And  every  boding  omen  of  tho  main. 
Nor  could  his  kindred,  nor  the  kindly  force 
Of  weeping  parents,  change  his  fatal  course. 
No,  not  the  dying  maid,  who  must  deplore 
His  floating  carcass  on  the  Scstian  shore. 

EFFECTS  OF   LOVE  OS  LYSXES,  WOLVES,  DOGS,  MARES. 

1  pass  the  wars  that  spotted  lynxes  make 
With  their  fierce  rivals,  for  the  female's  sake  : 
The  howling  wolves,  the  mastiff's  amorous  rage  ; 
When  even  the  fearful  stag  dares  for  his  hind  en- 
liut  far  above  the  rest,  the  furious  mare,         [gage. 
Barred  from  the  male,  is  frantic  with  despair.'  *  *  * 
For  love  they  force  through  thickets  of  tho  wood, 
They  climb  the  stecpy  hills,  and  stem  the  flood. 

When  at  the   spring's  approach   their  marrow 

For  with  the  spring  their  genial  warmth  returns  — 
The  mares  to  cliffs  of  rugged  rocks  repair. 
And  with  wide  nostrils  snuff  the  western  air  : 
When  (wondrous  to  relate)  the  parent  wind. 
Without  the  stallion,  propagates  the  kind. 
Then,  fired  with  amorous  rage,  they  take  their  flight 
Through    plains,    and   mount    the    hill's    unequal 
Nor  to  the  north,  nor  to  the  rising  sun,     [height  ; 
Nor  southward  to  the  rainy  re'gions  run, 
But  boring  to  tho  west,  and  hovering  there, 
With  gaping  mouths  they  draw  prolific  air  :  s  •  *  * 
>  Instead  of  five  gross  lines  of  Dryden,  Virgil  has  here 
simply ; 

Et  menlem  Venus  ipsa  dedit,  quo  tempore  Olauci 
Potuiades  malis  membra  absumpsere  quadrigae. 
«  Eight  lines  of  Dryden  are  here  omitted  ;  Virgfl  has : 
Hinc  domum  llippomanes  vero  quod  nomine  dicunt 
Pastures,  lintum  distillat  ab  ingmne  virus  : 
Hippumancs,  quod  saepe  mata)  legere  noverca, 
Misoierunlque  herbaa  et  non  innoxia  verba. 


But  time  is  lost,  which  never  will  renew, 
While  wo  too  far  tho  pleasing  jMith  pursue  ; 
Surveying  nature  with  too  nice  a  view. 

CARK  OK  SHEEP  AND    GOATS  J     THE    POKl'S    TASK    TO    BAISI 

Let  this  suffice  for  herds  :  our  following  care 
Shall  woolly  flocks  and  shaggy  goats  declare. 
Nor  can  I  doubt  what  toil  I  must  bestow. 
To  raise  my  subject  from  a  ground  so  low  : 
And  tho  mean  matter  which  my  theme  affords, 
T'  embellish  with  magniflccnoo  of  words. 
But  tho  commanding  muse  my  chariot  guides, 
Which  o'er  the  dubious  cliffs  securely  rides  ; 
And  pleased  I  am  no  beaten  road  to  take  ; 
But  first  tho  way  to  new  discoveries  make. 

WISTBBISO  OF  SBKEP  ASD  OOATS. 

Now,  sacred  Pales,  in  a  lofty  strain, 
I  sing  tho  rural  honors  of  thy  reign. 
First,  with  iwsiduous  care,  from  winter  keep, 
Well  foddered  in  the  stalls,  thy  tender  sheep. 
Then  spread  with  straw  the  bedding  of  thy  fold. 
With  fern  beneath  to  fend  the  bitter  cold  ; 
That  free  from  gouts  thou  may'st  preserve  thy  can 
And  clear  from  scabs,  produced  by  freezing  air. 
Next  lot  thy  goats  ofliciously  be  nursed  ; 
Ami  ii-\  tn  livinj  streams  to  quench  their  thirst. 
F'-imI'.  Ill  «iili  uiiihr-lirowsc,  and  for  their  laro 
A  cnt-  tli;ii  "|ii  ii<  I"  the  south  prepare  : 
Wlu-ri-  lia-kiii-  ill  tin;  sunshine  they  may  lie, 
And  the  short  remnants  of  his  heat  enjoy. 
This  during  Winter's  grisly  reign  be  done  : 
Till  tho  new  ram  receives  the  exalted  sun  : 
For  hairy  goats  of  equal  profit  are 
With  woolly  sheep,  and  ask  an  equal  oare. 


'T  is  true,  the  fleece,  when  drunk  with  Tyrian  juice, 
Is  dearly  sold  ;  but  not  for  needful  use  : 
For  the  salacious  goat  increases  more. 
And  twice  as  largely  yields  her  milky  store. 
The  still-distended  udders  never  fail  ; 
But,  when  they  seem  exhausted,  swell  the  pail. 
Meantime  the  pastor  shears  their  hoary  beards. 
And  eases  of  their  hair  the  loaded  herds. 
Their  camelots  warm  in  tents  the  soldier  hold. 
And  shield  the  shivering  mariner  from  cold. 

FEEDISQ  OF  OOATS  AND  SHEEP  ;  WISTKR  BROWSE. 

On  shrubs  they  browse,  and  on  the  bleaky  top 
Of  rugged  hills  the  thorny  bramble  crop. 
Attended  with  their  bleating  kids  they  come 
At  night,  unasked,  and  mindful  of  their  home  ; 
And  scarce  their  swelling  bags  the  threshold  over- 
So  much  tho  more  thy  diligence  bestow  [come. 

In  depth  of  Winter,  to  defend  the  snow  : 
By  how  much  less  the  tender  helpless  kind 
For  their  own  ills  can  fit  provision  find. 
Then  minister  tho  browse  with  bounteous  hand, 
And  open  let  the  stacks  all  winter  stand, 


29 


RURAL    POETRY. 


But  when  the  western  winds,  with  vital  power, 
Call  forth  the  tender  grass  and  budding  flower  ; 
Then,  at  the  last,  produce  in  open  air 
Both  flocks,  and  send  'em  to  their  summer  fare. 


Before  the  sun  while  Hesperus  appears  ; 
First  let  'em  sip  from  herbs  the  pearly  tears 
Of  morning  dews  ;  and  after  break  their  fast 
On  green-sward  ground,  a  cool  and  grateful  taste  : 
But  when  the  day's  fourth  hour  has  drawn  the  dews. 
And  the  sun's  sultry  heat  their  thirst  renews  ; 
When  creaking  grasshoppers  on  shrubs  complain. 
Then  lead  'em  to  their  watering-troughs  again. 
In  Summer's  heat  some  bending  valley  find. 
Closed  from  the  sun,  but  open  to  the  wind  ; 
Or  seek  some  ancient  oak,  whose  arms  extend 
In  ample  breadth,  thy  cattle  to  defend  ; 
Or  solitary  grove,  or  gloomy  glade. 
To  shield  'em  with  its  venerable  shade. 
Onee  more  to  watering  lead,  and  feed  again. 
When  the  low  sun  is  sinking  to  the  main  — 
When  rising  Cynthia  sheds  her  silver  dews, 
And  the  cool  evening-breeze  the  meads  renews  ; 
When  linnets  fill  the  woods  with  tuneful  sound. 
And  hollow  shores  the  halcyon's  voice  rebound. 

THE   LVBIAS   PASTCEES  ASD    FLOCKS  i    LVBIAN   PRAIRIES  AKD 

Why  should  my  muse  enlarge  on  Lybian  swains; 
Their  scattered  cottages,  and  ample  plains  ? 
Where  oft  the  flocks  without  a  leader  stray, 
Or  through  continued  deserts  take  their  way  ; 
And,  feeding,  add  the  length  of  night  to  day. 
Whole  months  they  wander,  grazing  as  they  go  ; 
Nor  folds  nor  hospitable  harbor  know  : 
Such  an  extent  of  plains,  so  vast  a  space 
Of  wilds  unknown,  and  of  untasted  grass. 
Allures  their  eyes  :  the  shepherd  last  appears. 
And  with  him  all  his  patrimony  bears  ; 
His  house  and  household  gods  ;  his  trade  of  war  ; 
His  bow  and  quiver  ;  and  his  trusty  our. 
Thus,  under  heavy  arms,  the  youth  of  Rome 
Their  long  laborious  marches  overcome  ; 
Cheerly  their  tedious  travels  undergo, 
And  pitch  their  sudden  camp  before  the  foe. 


Not  so  the  Scythian  shepherd  tends  his  fold  ; 
Nor  he  who  bears  in  Thrace  the  bitter  cold  ; 
Nor  he  who  treads  the  bleak  Mseotian  strand  ; 
Or  where  proud  Ister  rolls  his  yellow  sand. 
Early  they  stall  their  flocks  and  herds  ;    for  there 
No  grass  the  fields,  no  leaves  the  forests  wear. 
The  frozen  earth  lies  buried  there,  below 
A  hilly  heap,  seven  cubits  deep  in  snow  : 
And  all  the  west  allies  of  stormy  Boreas  blow. 


The  sun  from  far  peeps  with  a  sickly  face  ; 
Too  weak  the  clouds  and  mighty  fogs  to  chase, 
When  up  the  skies  he  shoots  his  rosy  head. 


Or  in  the  ruddy  ocean  seeks  his  bed. 

Swift  rivers  are  with  sudden  ice  constrained  ; 

And  studded  wheels  are  on  its  back  sustained. 

An  hostry  now  for  wagons,  which  before 

Tall  ships  of  burden  on  its  bosom  bore. 

The  brazen  cauldrons  with  the  frost  are  flawed  ; 

The  garment,  stifi'  with  ice,  at  hearths  is  thawed  j 

With  axes  first  they  cleave  the  wine,  and  thence 

By  weight  the  solid  portions  they  dispense. 

Prom  locks  uncombed,  and  from  the  frozen  beard. 

Long  icicles  depend,  and  crackling  sounds  are  heard. 

Meantime  perpetual  sleet,  and  driving  snow. 

Obscure  the  skies,  and  hang  on  herds  below. 

The  starving  cattle  perish  in  thoir  stalls, 

Huge  oxen  stand  enclosed  in  wintry  walls 

Of  snow  congealed  ;  whole  herds  are  buried  there 

Of  mighty  stags,  and  scarce  thoir  horns  appear. 

The  dextrous  huntsman  wounds  not  these  afar 
With  shafts,  or  darts,  or  makes  a  distant  war 
With  dogs  ;   or  pitches  toils  to  stop  their  flight  : 
But  close  engages  in  unequal  fight. 
And  while  they  strive  in  vain  to  make  their  way 
Through  hills  of  snow,  and  pitifully  bray, 
Assaults  with  dint  of  sword,  or  pointed  spears. 
And  homeward,  on  hi|  back,  the  joyful  burden  bears. 

TDE    TROGLODYTES   IS    Wl  M  i  1.  ,     mi  n,    r-.r.  I  I^CROrOT    LIFE  ; 

The  men  to  subtc-na a.'  -  !■  !nr', 

■Secure  from  cold,  and  .  p.h-I  Ihr  ,lir,  ilul  fire  : 

With  trunks  of  elms  and  onks  the  hearth  they  load, 

Nor  tempt  th'  inclemency  of  heaven  abroad. 

Their  jovial  nights  in  frolics  and  in  play 

They  pass,  to  drive  the  tedious  hours  away. 

And  their  cold  stomachs  with  crowned  goblets  cheer 

Of  windy  cider,  and  of  barmy  beer. 

Such  are  the  cold  Riphffian  race  ;  and  such 

The  savage  Scythian,  and  unwarlike  Dutch  ;  — 

Where  skins  of  beasts  the  rude  barbarians  wear. 

The  spoils  of  foxes  and  the  furry  bear. 

HOW  TO  SECCRE  CLEAN,  WHITE    FLEECES.  —  PAN   AND  DIANA. 

Is  wool  thy  care  ?     Let  not  thy  cattle  go 
Where  bushes  are,  where  burs  and  thistles  grow  ; 
Nor  in  too  rank  a  pasture  let  'em  feed  : 
Then  of  the  purest  white  select  thy  breed. 
Ev'n  though  a  snowy  ram  thou  shalt  behold, 
Prefer  him  not  in  haste  for  husband  to  thy  fold. 
But  search  his  mouth  ;  and  if  a  swarthy  tongue 
Is  underneath  his  humid  palate  hung  ; 
Reject  him,  lest  he  darken  all  the  flock  ; 
And  substitute  another  from  thy  stock. 
'T  was  thus  with  fleeces  milky  white  (if  we 
May  trust  report).  Pan,  god  of  Arcady, 
Did  bribe  thee,  Cynthia  ;  nor  didst  thou  disdain 
When  called  in  woody  shades  to  cure  a  lover's  pain. 

If  milk  be  thy  design,  with  plenteous  hand 
Bring  olover-grass  ;  and  from  the  marshy  land 
Salt  herbage  for  the  foddering  rack  provide. 
To  fill  their  bags,  and  swell  the  milky  tide  : 


Those  miso  thoir  thirst,  and  to  the  taste  restore 
The  savor  of  the  salt,  on  which  they  fed  before. 

Some,  when  the  kids  their  dams  too  deeply  drain, 
With  gags  and  muzzles  their  soft  mouths  restrain. 
Their  morning  milk  the  pcastantd  press  at  night ; 
Their  evening  meal  before  tlio  rising  light 
To  market  bear  j   or  sparingly  they  steep 
With  seasoning  salt,  and,  stored,  for  Winter  keep. 

Tire  CABE  OF  DOGS  J  WATCU-DOCS  ;  DOGS  OF  CHASG. 

Nor,  last,  forget  thy  faithful  dogs  :  but  food 
With  fattening  whey  the  mastitTs  generous  breed  ; 
And  Spartan  race  :  who,  for  the  fold's  relief. 
Will  prosecute  with  cries  the  nightly  thief : 
Repulse  the  prowling  wolf,  and  hold  at  bay 
The  mountain  robber?,  rui^hinj;  to  their  prey. 
With  cries  of  h.niinl.,  Iliu  iili\  t  pursue  the  fear 
Of  flying  hare?,  ;iiii       -  ill   «. leer; 

Rouse  from  theii  ii.      I'l    i.i  i, tied  rage 

Of  boars,  and  \n-.v.ny     lu-  u,  i    il-  .iigage. 


HOW  TO  EXPEL  SNAKES,  ETC.  —  K 

With  smoke  of  burning  cedar  i 


3nt  thy  walls  ; 
And  fume  with  stinking  galbanum  thy  stalls  : 
With  that  rank  odor  from  thy  dwelling-place  [race. 
To  drive  the  viper's  brood,  and  all  the  venomod 
For  often  under  stalls,  unmoved,  they  lie. 
Obscure  in  shades,  and  shunning  heaven's  broad  eye; 
And  snakes,  familiar,  to  the  hearth  succeed. 
Disclose  their  eggs,  and  near  the  chimney  breed. 
Whether  to  roofy  houses  they  repair. 
Or  sun  themselves  abroad  in  open  air, 
In  all  abodes,  of  pestilential  kind 
To  sheep  and  oxen,  and  the  painful  hind. 
Take,  shepherd,  take  a  plant  of  stubborn  oak, 
And  labor  him  with  many  a  sturdy  stroke  ; 
Or,  with  hard  stones,  demolish  from  afar 
His  haughty  crest,  the  seat  of  all  the  war  : 
Invade  his  hissing  throat,  and  winding  spires. 
Till,  stretched  in  length,  th'  unfolded  foe  retires. 
He  drags  his  tail,  and  for  his  head  provides  ; 
And  in  some  secret  cranny  slowly  glides  ;      [sides. 
But  leaves  exposed  to  blows  his  back  and  battered 


In  fair  Calabria's  woods  a  snake  is  bred. 
With  curling  crest,  and  with  advancing  head  : 
Waving  he  rolls,  and  makes  a  winding  track  ; 
His  belly  spotted,  burnished  is  his  book. 
While  springs  are  broken,  while  the  southern  air 
And  dropping  heavens  the  moistened  earth  repair. 
He  lives  on  standing  lakes,  and  trembling  bogs  ; 
He  fills  his  maw  with  fish,  or  with  loquacious  frogs. 
But  when  in  muddy  pools  the  water  sinks. 
And  the  chapped  earth  is  furrowed  o'er  with  chinks. 
He  leaves  the  fens,  and  leaps  upon  the  ground. 
And,  hissing,  roJls  his  glaring  eyes  around. 
With  thirst  inflamed,  impatient  of  the  heats. 
He  rages  in  the  fields,  and  wide  destruction  threats. 
0,  let  not  sleep  my  closing  eyes  invade 
In  open  plains,  or  in  the  secret  shade. 


227 


When  ho,  renewed  in  all  the  speckled  pride 
Of  pompous  youth,  has  cast  his  slough  aside. 
And  in  his  summer  livery  rolls  along. 
Erect,  and  brandishing  his  furky  tongue, 
Leaving  his  nest  and  his  imperfect  young  ; 
And,  thoughtless  of  his  eggs,  forgets  to  rear 
The  hopes  of  poison  for  the  following  year. 

SICKNESSES  OF  SHEEP  AND  THE  REMEDIES.  —  THE  SCAB. 

The  causes  and  the  signs  shall  next  be  told, 
Of  every  sickness  that  infects  the  fold. 
A  scabby  tetter  on  their  pelts  will  stick. 
When  the  raw  rain  has  pierced  them  to  the  quick  ; 

Or  =r:iri  liiii/  I'r.    t    have  eaten  through  the  skin  ; 

Or  I u.  lodged  within  ; 

<*!\\l ,.    :'  .       I    -horn,  if  sweat  remains 

I'mMi  il'  1,   Mil      ilk-  into  their  empty  veins  ; 
When  thi-ir  defenceless  limbs  the  brambles  tear, 
Shorn  of  their  wool,  and  naked  from  the  shear. 

Good  shepherds  after  shearing  drench  thoir  sheep, 
And  their  flock's  father  (forced  from  high  to  leap) 
Swims  down  the  stream,  and  plunges  in  the  deep. 
They  oint  their  naked  limbs  with  mothered  oil  ; 
Or  from  the  founts  where  living  sulphurs  boil, 
They  mix  a  medicine  to  foment  their  limbs  ; 
With  scum  that  on  the  molten  silver  swims. 
Fat  pitch,  and  black  bitumen,  add  tn  these. 

Besides,  the  u;i\i[i   l,i' r   tlir  l.rr-   ; 

And  hellel.i.i.         i  i  i    i  m  the  seas. 

Receipts  al i      ■   ■  i   •    ui    In  -tore. 


And,  when 
Vain  help, 


hi  I  ,    Inr,  till  the  ci>re  be  found, 

1-  1-1,  and  gathers  ground  ; 
I:;  riuiUe>s  moan  the  shepherd  stands, 
ho  luiieing  knife  requires  his  hands, 
ith  idle  prayers,  from  heaven  demands. 


FEVERS,   MrRBAlN,   ETC. 

Deep  in  their  bones  when  fevers  fi.i  their  scat. 
And  rack  their  limbs,  and  liuk  the  vital  heat ; 
The  ready  euro  to  cool  the  raging  i)aiu. 
Is  underneath  the  foot  to  breathe  u  vein. 
This  remedy  the  Scythian  shepherds  found  : 
The  inhabitants  of  Thracia's  hilly  ground. 
The  Gelons  use  it,  when  for  drink  and  food 
They  mix  their  curdled  milk  with  horses'  blood. 

But  when  thou  secst  a  single  sheep  remain 
In  shades  aloof,  or  couched  upon  the  plain  ; 
Or  listlessly  to  crop  the  tender  grass  ; 
Or  late  to  lag  behind,  with  truant  pace  ; 
Revenge  the  crime,  and  take  the  traitor's  head. 
Ere  in  the  faultless  flock  the  dire  contagion  spread. 

On  winter  seas  we  fewer  storms  behold. 
Than  foul  diseases  that  infect  the  fold. 
Nor  do  those  ills  on  single  bodies  prey  ; 
But  oftener  bring  the  nation  to  decay. 
And  sweep  the  present  stock  and  future  hope  away. 


A  dire  example  of  this  truth  appears  : 
When,  after  such  a  length  of  rolling  years, 


228 


RURAL    POETRY. 


We  see  the  naked  Alps,  and  thin  remains 

Of  scattered  cots,  and  yet  unpeopled  plains  : 

Once  filled  with  grazing  flocks,  the  shepherds  happy 


A  plague  did  on  the  dumb  creation  rise  : 
During  the  autumnal  heats  the  infection  grew, 
Tame  cattle  and  the  beasts  of  nature  slew  ; 
Poisoning  the  standing  lakes,  and  pools  impure  ; 
Nor  was  the  foodful  grass  in  fields  secure. 
Strange  death  !  for  when  the  thirsty  fire  had  drunk 
Their  vital  blood,  and  the  dry  nerves  were  shrunk  ; 
When  the  contracted  limbs  were  cramped,  ev'n  then 
A  wat*rish  humor  swelled  and  oozed  again  : 
Converting  into  bane  the  kindly  juice, 
Ordained  by  nature  for  a  better  use. 

THE     EFFECTS    OF  THE  SWISS    EPIDEMIC     ON     OXEN,   CALVES, 


The  victim  ox,  that  was  for  altars  pressed,  [drest. 
Trimmed   with  white    ribbons,  and  with   garlands 
Sunk  of  himself,  without  the  gods'  command  ; 
Preventing  the  slow  sacrificer's  hand. 
Or,  by  the  holy  butcher  if  he  fell, 
The  inspected  entrails  could  no  fates  foretell  : 
Nor,  laid  on  altars,  did  pure  flames  arise  ;         [fice. 
But  clouds  of  smouldering  smoke  forbade  the  sacri- 
Searcely  the  knife  was  reddened  with  his  gore, 
Or  the  black  poison  stained  the  sandy  floor. 
The  thriven  calves  in  meads  their  food  forsake, 
And  render  their  sweet  souls  before  the  plenteous 

The  fawning  dog  runs  mad  ;  the  wheezing  swine 
With  coughs  is  choked,  and  labors  from  the  chine  : 


The  victor  horse,  forgetful  of  his  food. 
The  palm  renounces,  and  abhors  the  flood. 
He  paws  the  ground,  and  on  his  hanging  ears 
A  doubtful  >w(';if  in  flaiinoy  drops  appears  : 
Parched  i,<  hi-  lihh-.  aii.l  rugged  are  his  hairs. 
Such  art'  tin-  syiuptniii^  i.f  the  young  disease  ; 


Buti 


■  s  pr( 


;  pain 


Ho  rolls  his  mournful  eyes,  he  deeply  groans 
With  patient  sobbing,  and  with  manly  moans. 
He  heaves  for  breath ;  which  from  his  lungs  supplied. 
And  fetched  from  far,  distends  his  laboring  side. 
To  his  rough  palate  his  dry  tongue  succeeds  ; 
And  ropy  gore  he  from  his  nostrils  bleeds. 
A  drench  of  wine  has  with  success  been  used, 
And  through  a  horn  the  generous  juice  infused  : 
Which  timely  taken  oped  his  closing  jaws  ; 
But,  if  too  late,  the  patient's  death  did  cause. 
For  the  too-vigorous  dose  too  fiercely  wrought ; 
And  added  fury  to  the  strength  it  brought. 
Recruited  into  rage,  he  grinds  his  teeth 
In  his  own  flesh,  and  feeds  approaching  death. 
Ye  gods,  to  better  fate  good  men  dispose, 
And  turn  that  impious  error  on  our  foes  ! 


The  steer,  who  to  the  yoke  was  bred  to  bow, 
Studious  of  tillage  and  the  crooked  plough, 
Falls  down  and  dies  f  and  dying  spews  a  flood 
Of  foamy  madness,  mixed  with  clotted  blood. 
The  clown,  who,  cursing  Providence,  repines. 
His  mournful  fellow  from  the  team  disjoins  ; 
AVith  many  a  groan  forsakes  his  fruitless  care. 
And  in  the  unfinished  furrow  leaves  the  share. 
The  pining  steer  no  shades  of  lofty  woods 
Nor  flowery  meads  can  ease  ;  nor  crystal  floods 
Rolled  from  the  rock  :  his  flabby  flanks  decrease  ; 
His  eyes  are  settled  in  a  stupid  peace. 
His  bulk  too  weighty  for  his  thighs  is  grown  ; 
And  his  unwieldy  neck  hangs  drooping  down. 
Now  what  avails  his  well -deserving  toil. 
To  turn  the  glebe,  or  smooth  the  rugged  soil  ! 
And  yet  he  never  supped  in  solemn  state. 
Nor  undigested  feasts  did  urge  his  fate  ; 
Nor  day  to  night  luxuriously  did  join  ; 
Nor  surfeited  on  rich  Campanian  wine. 
Simple  his  beverage,  homely  was  his  food  ; 
The  wholesome  herbage,  and  the  running  flood  ; 
No  dreadful  dreams  awaked  him  with  aff'right  ; 
His  pains  by  day  secured  his  rest  by  night. 


'Twas  then  that  buS'aloes,  ill-paired,  were  seen 
To  draw  the  car  of  Jove's  imperial  queen, 
For  want  of  oxen  ;   and  the  laboring  swain 
Scratched  with  a  rake  a  furrow  for  his  grain  : 
And  covered,  with  his  hand,  the  shallow  seed  again. 
He  yokes  himself,  and,  up  the  hilly  height. 
With  his  own  shoulders  draws  the  wagon's  weight. 

The  nightly  wolf,  that  round  the  enclosure  prowled, 
To  leap  the  fence,  now  plots  not  on  the  fold  — 
Tamed  with  a  sharper  pain  :  the  fearful  doe 
And  flying  stag  amidst  the  greyhounds  go  ;       [foe. 
And  round  the  dwellings  roam  of  man,  their  fiercer 
The  scaly  nations  of  the  sea  profound 
Like  shipwrecked  carcasses  are  driven  aground  : 
And  mighty  phocje,  never  seen  before 
In  shallow  streams,  are  stranded  on  the  shore. 
The  viper  dead  within  her  hole  is  found  ; 
Defenceless  was  the  shelter  of  the  ground. 
The  water-snake,  whom  fish  and  paddocks  fed. 
With  staring  scales,  lies  poisoned  in  his  bed  ; 
The  birds  their  native  heavens  contagious  prove, 
From  clouds  they  fall,  and  leave  their  souls  above. 


Besides,  to  change  their  pasture  't  is  in  vain  ; 
Or  trust  to  physic  ;   physic  is  their  bane. 
The  learned  leaches  in  despair  depart  ; 
And  shake  their  heads,  desponding  of  their  art. 

Tisiphone,  let  loose  from  under  ground, 
Majestically  pale,  now  treads  the  round  ; 
Before  her  drives  diseases,  and  affright ; 
And  every  moment  rises  to  the  sight : 


SUMMER  —  JDLT. 


Aapinng  to  tho  skies,  onoroaohing  iin  the  light. 
The  rivers,  and  thoir  banks,  and  liills  around, 
With  Iciwings,  and  with  dying  bloats,  resound. 
At  length,  she  strikes  an  universal  blow  ; 
To  death  at  once  whole  herds  of  cattle  go  : 
Sheep,  oxen,  horses,  fall  ;  iind,  laiiiicd  on  high, 

Tho  differing  .spciir-  m  , li,  n  h,.. 

Till,  warned  b.v  Irr,,  ,,  .,r  ,ii      M  .    «  ly  thoy  found 
To  lodge  their  1.. ill li  m.     .inni,  "n^fr  ground  ; 
For  useless  U,  tlio  tiuuci  »civ  II.. ii  hides  ; 
Nor  could  their  tainted  Uesli  with  ocean  tides 
lie  freed  from  filth  ;  nor  could  Vulcanian  flamo 
Tho  stench  abolish,  or  tho  savor  tame. 
Nor  .safely  could  they  shear  their  fleecy  store. 
Made  drunk  with  poisonous  juice,  and  stiff  with 

gore,  — 
Or  touch  the  weh  ;  but  if  tho  vest  thoy  wear, 
Red  blisters  rising  on  thoir  paps  appear, 
And  flaming  oarhunolos,  and  noisome  sweat, 
And  clammy  dews,  that  loathsome  lico  beget ; 
Till  tho  slow  creeping  evil  oats  his  way,  [prey. 

Consumes  the  parching  limbs,  and  makes  the  life  his 


In  the  second  ho  just  stejis  uu 
scriljes  that  degree  of  it  which  is 
III  the  third  he  advances  to  ni 
singles  out  the  bee,  which  may  be 
cious  of  animals,  for  his  subject. 


each  disease.  In  the  last  place,  he  lays  down  a  method 
of  repairing  their  kind,  supposing  their  whole  breed  lost, 
and  gives  at  large  the  history  of  its  invenUon. 


Tho  gifts  of  heaven  my  following  song  pvirsues, 
Aerial  honey,  and  ambrosial  dews. 
Maecenas,  road  this  other  part,  that  sings 
Embattled  squadrons  and  adventurous  kings  ; 
A  mighty  pomp,  though  made  of  little  things. 
Thoir  arms,  thoir  arts,  thoir  manners,  I  disclose, 
And  how  they  war,  and  whence  tho  people  rose  : 
Slight  is  tho  subject,  but  the  praise  not  small. 
If  heaven  assist,  and  Phitbus  hear  my  call. 


BEBS  i  AWAT  FROM  COWS,  OOATS, 
l-iaAKOS,  BIBDS,  A3  THE  TITMOUSB,  WOODPKOIUiE,  SWAL- 
LOW ;    NEAR  A   BROOK. 

First,  for  thy  beos  a  quiet  station  find, 
And  lodge  them  under  covert  of  tho  wind  : 
For  winds,  when  homeward  thoy  return,  will  drive 
The  loaded  carriers  from  thoir  evening  hive. 
Far  from  the  cows  and  goats,  insulting  crow, 
That  trample  down  tho  flowers,  and  brush  tho  dow  : 


Tho  painted  liiard,  and  the  birds  of  prey, 

Foes  of  tho  frugal  kind,  bo  far  away. 

Tho  titmouse,  and  tho  pecker's  hungry  brood,  I 

And  Progne,  with  her  bosom  stained  in  blood  ; 

These  rob  tho  trading  citizens,  and  bear 

Tho  trembling  captives  through  the  liquid  air. 

And  for  their  callow  young  a  cruel  feast  iiroparo. 

liut  noar  a  living  stream  thoir  mansion  place, 

Edged  round  with  moss,  ond  tufts  of  matted  grass  : 

And  plant  (tho  winds'  impetuous  rage  to  stop) 

Wild  olive-trees,  or  palms,  before  the  bu.sy  shop. 

That  when  tho  youthful  prince,  with  proud  alarm. 

Calls  out  the  venturous  colony  to  swarm  ; 

When  first  their  way  through  yielding  air  they  wing. 

Now  to  tho  pleasures  of  their  native  spring  ; 

Tho  banks  of  brooks  may  make  a  cool  retreat 

For  the  raw  soldiers  from  the  scalding  heat  : 

And  neighboring  trees,  with  friendly  shade,  invito 

The  troops,  unused  to  long  laborious  flight. 


Then  o'er  tho  running  stream,  or  standing  lake, 
A  passage  for  thy  weary  people  make  ; 
With  osier  floats  tho  standing  water  strew  ; 
Of  massy  stones  make  bridges,  if  it  flow  : 
That  basking  in  tho  sun  thy  bees  may  lie. 
And  resting  there  their  flaggy  pinions  dry  ; 
When  late  returning  home,  the  laden  host 
By  raging  winds  is  wrecked  upon  the  const. 
Wild  thyme  and  savory  set  around  their  eell  ; 


Wild  thyme  and  savory 

Sweet  to  tho  taste,  and  fniL-inil  t^  th.'  -.n.ll  ; 
Sot  rows  of  rosemary  with  !I'>\Miini;  -hm. 
And  lot  thy  purple  vioieis  .li  iuk  ih.  >iuiiiii. 

Whether  thou  build  the  palaoo  of  thy  bees 
With  twisted  osiers,  or  with  barks  of  trees  ; 
Make  but  a  narrow  mouth  :  for  as  the  cold 
Congeals  into  a  lump  tho  liquid  gold  ; 
So  't  is  again  dissolved  by  summer's  heat. 
And  tho  sweet  labors  both  extremes  defeat. 
And,  thoroforo,  not  in  vain  the  industrious  kind 
With  dauby  wax  and  flowers  tho  chinks  have  lined. 
And,  with  their  stores  of  gathered  glue,  contrive 
To  stop  the  vents  and  crannies  of  their  hive. 
Not  bird-lime,  or  Idean  pitoh,  produce 
A  more  tenacious  mass  of  clammy  juice. 

WILD   bees'  NESra  ;   VAKIOCS  CACTIONS. 

Nor  beos  aro  lodged  in  hives  alone,  but  found 
In  chambers  of  their  own,  beneath  the  ground  : 
Thoir  vaulted  roofs  are  hung  in-pumicos. 
And  in  tho  rotten  trunks  of  hollow  trees. 

But  pla-ster  thou  tho  ohinky  hives  with  clay, 
And  leafy  branches  o'er  thoir  lodging  lay. 
Nor  place  them  where  too  deep  a  water  flows. 
Or  where  tho  yew  their  poisonous  neighbor  grows  ;  . 
Nor  roast  red  crabs  to  oBcnd  tho  niconess  of  their 


Nor) 


)  steaming  st«neh  of  maddy  ground  ; 


230 


RURAL  POETRY. VIRGIL. 


Nor  hollow  rooks  that  render  back  the  sound, 
And  doubled  images  of  voice  rebound. 

HABITS   OF  BEES  IS   SPRTSO  ;    THEIR  TODNG. 

For  what  remains,  when  golden  suns  appear. 
And  under  earth  hare  driven  the  winter  year  : 
The  winged  nation  wanders  through  the  skies. 
And  o'er  the  plains  and  shady  forest  Bies  ; 
Then  stooping  on  the  meads  and  leafy  bowers, 
They  skim  the  floods,  and  sip  the  purple  flowers. 
Exalted  hence,  and  drunk  with  secret  joy. 
Their  young  succession  all  their  cares  employ  : 
They  breed,  they  brood,  instruct  and  educate. 
And  make  provision  for  the  future  state  ; 
They  work  their  waxen  lodgings  in  their  hives. 
And  labor  honey  to  sustain  their  lives. 

SWABMING  OF  BEES. 

But  when  thou  seest  a  swarming  cloud  arise, 
That  sweeps  aloft,  and  darkens  all  the  skies  ; 
The  motions  of  their  hasty  flight  attend,        [bend. 
And  know  to  floods,  or  woods,  their  airy  march  they 
Then  melfoil  beat,  and  honeysuckles  pound. 
With  those  alluring  savors  strew  the  ground, 
And  mix  with  tinkling  brass  the  cymbal's  droning 

Straight  to  their  ancient  cells,  recalled  from  air, 
The  reconciled  deserters  will  repair. 

QUABBELS  OF  BEES. 

But  if  intestine  broils  alarm  the  hive,  — 
For  two  pretenders  oft  for  empire  strive,  — 
The  vulgar  in  divided  factions  jar. 
And  murmuring  sounds  proclaim  the  civil  war. 
Inflamed  with  ire,  and  trembling  with  disdain. 
Scarce  can  their  limbs  their  mighty  souls  contain. 
With  shouts,  the  coward's  courage  they  excite. 
And  martial  clangors  call  them  out  to  flght : 
With  hoarse  alarms  the  hollow  camp  rebounds. 
That  imitates  the  trumpet's  angry  sounds  : 
Then  to  their  common  standard  they  repair  ; 
The  nimble  horsemen  scour  the  fields  of  air. 
In  form  of  battle  drawn,  they  issue  forth, 
And  every  knight  is  proud  to  prove  his  worth. 
Prest  for  their  country's  honor,  and  their  king's, 
On  their  sharp  beaks  they  whet  their  pointed  stings. 
And  exercise  their  arms,  and  tremble  with  their 

wings. 
Full  in  the  midst  the  haughty  monarohs  ride  ; 
The  trusty  guards  come  up,  and  close  the  side  ; 
With  shouts  the  daring  foe  to  battle  is  defied. 


Thus,  in  the  season  of  unclouded  Spring, 
To  war  they  follow  their  undaunted  king  : 
Crowd  through  their  gates,  and  in  the  fields  of  light 
The  shocking  squadrons  meet  in  mortal  flght : 
Headlong  they  fall  from  high,  and  wounded  wound. 
And  heaps  of  slaughtered  soldiers  bite  the  ground. 
Hard  hailstones  lie  not  thicker  on  the  plain  ; 
Nor  shaken  oaks  such  showers  of  adorns  rain. 


With  gorgeous  wings,  the  marks  of  sovereign  sway. 
The  two  contending  princes  make  their  way  ; 
Intrepid  through  the  midst  of  dangers  go  ; 
Their  friends  encourage,  and  amaze  the  fue. 
With  mighty  soyls  in  narrow  bodies  prest, 
They  challenge,  and  encounter  breast  to  breast  ; 
So  fixed  on  fame,  unknowing  how  to  fly. 
And  obstinately  bent  to  win  or  die. 
That  long  the  doubtful  combat  they  maintain, 
Till  one  prevails  ;   for  only  one  can  reign. 
Yet  all  those  dreadful  deeds,  this  deadly  fray, 
A  cast  of  scattered  dust  will  soon  allay. 
And  undecided  leave  the  fortune  of  the  day. 
When  both  the  chiefs  are  sundered  from  the  fight. 
Then  to  the  lawful  king  restore  his  right. 
And  let  the  wasteful  prodigal  be  slain. 
That  he  who  best  deserves  alone  may  reign. 


With  ease  distinguished  is  the  regal  race  ; 
One  monarch  wears  an  honest  open  face  ; 
Shaped  to  hia  size,  and  godlike  to  behold. 
His  royal  body  shines  with  specks  of  gold. 
And  ruddy  scales  ;  for  empire  ho  designed. 
Is  hotter  born,  and  of  a  nobler  kind. 
That  other  looks  like  nature  in  disgrace. 
Gaunt  are'  his  sides,  and  sullen  is  his  face  : 
And  like  their  grisly  prince  appears  his  gloomy  race: 
Grim,  ghastly,  rugged,  like  a  thirsty  train 
That  long  have  travelled  through  a  desert  plain. 
And  spit  from  their  dry  chaps  the  gathered  dust 
The  better  brood,  unlike  the  bastard  erew,    [again. 
Are  marked  with  royal  streaks  of  shining  hue  ; 
Glittering  and  ardent,  though  in  body  less  : 
From  these  at  'pointed  seasons  hope  to  press 
Huge,  heavy  honeycombs,  of  golden  juice. 
Not  only  sweet,  but  pure,  and  fit  for  use  : 
To  allay  the  strength  and  hardness  of  the  wine, 
And  with  old  Bacchus  new  metheglin  join. 


But  when  the  swarms  are  eager  of  their  play. 
And  loathe  their  empty  hives,  and  idly  stray, 
Restrain  the  wanton  fugitives,  and  take 
A  timely  eare  to  bring  the  truants  back. 
The  task  is  easy,  — but  to  clip  the  wings 
Of  their  high-flying,  arbitrary  kings  : 
At  their  command  the  people  swarm  away  ; 
Confine  the  tyrant,  and  the  slaves  will  stay. 
Sweet  gardens,  full  of  saffron  flowers,  invite 
The  wandering  gluttons,  and  retard  their  flight. 
Besides,  the  god  obscene,  who  frights  away 
With  his  lath  sword  the  thieves  and  birds  of  prey, 
With  his  own  hand,  the  guardian  of  the  bees, 
For  slips  of  pines  may  search  the  mountain  trees  ; 
And  with  wild  thyme  and  savory  plant  the  plain, 
Till  his  hard,  horny  fingers  ache  with  pain  ; 
And  deck  with  fruitful  trees  the  fields  around. 
And  with  refreshing  waters  drench  the  ground. 


Now,  did  I  not  so  near  my  labors'  ond 
Strike  soil,  and  hastening  to  the  harbor  tend, 
My  song  to  flowery  gardens  might  extend. 
Til  teiiuh  the  vegetable  arts,  to  sing 
The  IVsliui  rcK.s.  nnd  their  double  spring  : 
lluw  ^u'-i-  ly  think-  Tlir  running  streams,  and  how 
Grt'cii  ImiI-  mI  [.:ii-l,  \  tii;ir  the  river  grow  ; 
How  ciiriitiil.i  r-  :il..ii:;  tlii'  surface  Creep, 
With  crooked  bodies,  and  with  bellies  deep  ; 
The  late  narcissus,  and  the  winding  trail 
or  bears-foot,  myrtles  green,  and  ivy  pale. 

TUB  PRCOiL  eOBVCIJlN  OiRDENEH  OK  TiREXTCJI. 

For  where  with  stately  towers  Tarentum  stands, 
And  deep  Galcsus  soaks  the  yellow  sands, 
I  chanced  an  old  Corycian  swiiin  to  know. 
Lord  of  few  acres,  and  those  barren  too  ; 
Unfit  for  sheep,  or  vines,  and  more  unfit  to  sow  • 
Yet  laboring  well  his  little  spot  of  ground. 
Some  scattering  pot-herbs  here  and  there  he  found; 
"Which,  cultivated  with  his  daily  care. 
And  bruised  with  vervain,  were  his  frugal  fare. 
Sometimes  white  lilies  did  their  leaves  afford. 
With  wholesome  poppy-8owers  to  mend  his  homely 

For  late  returning  home  he  supped  at  case. 
And  wisely  deemed  the  wealth  of  monarchs  less 
Than  little  of  his  own,  because  his  own  did  please. 

nis  SKII,!,  AND  SUCCESS  }  UMES,  APPLES,  PEARS,  ETC. 

To  quit  his  care,  he  gathered  first  of  all 
In  Spring  the  roses,  apples  in  the  Fall  : 
And  when  cold  Winter  split  the  rocks  in  twain, 
And  ice  the  running  rivers  did  restrain, 
He  stripped  the  bears-foot  of  its  leafy  growth. 
And,  calling  western  winds,  accused  the  Spring  of 

sloth  ; 
He  therefore  first  among  the  swains  was  found. 
To  reap  the  product  of  his  labored  ground. 
And  squeeze  the  combs  with  golden  liquor  crowned. 
His  limes  were  first  in  flower  ;  his  lofty  pines. 
With  friendly  shade,  secured  his  tender  vines. 
For  ovory  bloom  his  trees  in  spring  afford. 
An  autumn  apple  was  by  tale  restored. 
He  knew  to  rank  his  elms  in  even  rows  ; 
For  fruit  the  grafted  pear-tree  to  dispose  ; 
And  tame  to  plums  the  sourness  of  the  sloes. 
With  spreading  planes  he  mmie  a  cool  retreat. 
To  shade  good  fellows  from  the  Summer's  heat. 
But,  straitened  in  my  space,  I  must  forsake 
This  task  ;  for  others  aftenvards  to  take. 


Describe  we  next  the  nature  of  the  bees, 
Bestowed  by  Jove  for  secret  services, 
When,  by  the  tinkling  sound  of  timbrels  led, 
The  King  of  heaven  in  Cretan  caves  they  fed. 
Of  all  the  race  of  animals,  alone 
The  bees  have  common  cities  of  their  own, 
And  common  sons  ;  beneath  one  Uiw  they  live, 


281 


And  with  one  common  stock  their  traffic  drive. 
Kach  has  a  certain  home,  a  several  stall  ; 
All  is  the  state's,  the  state  provides  for  all. 
Mindful  of  common  cold,  they  share  the  pain  ; 
And  hoard,  for  winter's  use,  the  summer's  gain. 
VARioi's  orriCES  or  i.xdividual  bees. 
Some  o'er  the  public  magazines  preside. 
And  some  are  sent  new  forage  to  provide  : 
These  drudge  in  fields  abroad,  and  those  at  homo 
Lay  deep  foundations,  for  the  labored  comb, 
With  dew,  narcissus-leaves,  and  clammy  gum. 
To  pitch  the  waxen  flooring  some  contrive  ; 
Some  nurse  the  future  nation  of  the  hive; 
Sweet  honey  some  condense ;   some  purge  the  grout; 
The  rest,  in  cells  apart,  the  liquid  nectar  shut. 
All,  with  united  force,  combine  to  drive 
The  lazy  drones  from  the  laborious  hive. 
With  envy  stung,  they  view  each  other's  deeds  ; 
With  diligence  the  fragrant  work  proceeds. 

THE  inVE  COMPARED  TO  TUB  ARMORT  Or   TBE  CYCLOPS. 

As  when  the  Cyclops,  at  the  almighty  nod. 
New  thunder  hasten  for  their  angry  god  : 
Subdued  in  fire  the  stubborn  metal  lies  ; 
One  brawny  smith  the  puffing  bellows  plies. 
And  draws,  and  blows  reciprocating  air  ; 
Others  to  quench  the  hissing  mass  prepare  : 
With  lifted  arms  they  order  every  blow. 
And  chime  their  sounding  hammers  in  a  row  ; 
With  labored  anvils  ..Etna  groans  below. 
Strongly  they  strike,  huge  flakes  of  flames  expire. 
With  tongs  they  turn  the  steel,  and  vex  it  in  the  fire. 


If  little  things  with  great  we  may  compare, 
Such  are  the  bees,  and  such  their  busy  care  : 
Studious  of  honey,  each  in  his  degree, 
The  youthful  swain,  the  grave  experienced  bee  ; 
That  in  the  field  ;  this  in  afiiiirs  of  state. 
Employed  at  home,  abides  within  the  gate. 
To  fortify  the  combs,  to  build  the  wall, 
To  prop  the  ruins,  lest  the  fabric  fall  : 
But  late  at  night,  with  weary  pinions  come 
The  laboring  youth,  and  heavy  laden  home. 
Plains,  meads,  and  orchards,  all  the  day  he  plies  ; 
The  nUans  of  yellow  thyme  distend  his  thighs  : 
lie  spiiils  the  saffron  flowers,  he  sips  the  blues 
Of  violets,  wilding  blooms,  and  willow  dews. 
Their  toil  is  common,  common  is  their  sleep  ; 
They  shake  their  wings  when  morn  begins  to  peep; 
Rush  through  the  city  gates  without  delay. 
Nor  ends  their  work  but  with  declining  day  : 
Then  having  spent  the  last  remains  of  light, 
They  give  their  bodies  due  repose  at  night ; 
When  hollow  murmurs  of  their  evening  bells 
Dismiss  the  sleepy  swains,  and  toll  them  to  their  cells. 


When  once  in  beds  their  weary  limbs  they  steep, 
No  buzzing  sounds  disturb  their  golden  sleep. 


232 


RURAL    POETRY. 


'T  is  sacred  silence  all.     Nor  dare  they  stray, 
When  rain  is  promised,  or  a  stormy  day  : 
But  near  the  city  walls  their  watering  take, 
Nor  forage  far,  but  short  excursions  make. 

And  as,  when  empty  barks  on  billows  float, 
With  sandy  ballast  sailors  trim  their  boat ; 
So  bees  bear  gravel-stones,  whose  poising  weight 
Steers  through  the  whistling  winds   their  steady 
flight. 


But,  what's  more  strange,  their  modest  appetites. 
Averse  from  Venus,  fly  the  nuptial  rites. 
No  lust  enervates  their  heroic  mind. 
Nor  wastes  their  strength  on  wanton  womankind. 
But  in  their  mouths  reside  their  genial  powers, 
They  gather  children  from  the  leaves  and  flowers. 
Thus  make  they  kings  to  fill  the  regal  seat ; 
And  thus  their  little  citizens  create  ; 
And  waxen  cities  build,  and  palaces  of  state. 
And  oft  on  rocks  their  tender  wings  they  tear, 
And  sink  beneath  the  burdens  which  they  bear. 
Such  rage  of  honey  in  their  bosom  beats. 
And  such  a  zeal  they  have  for  flowery  sweets. 

Thus  through  the  race  of  life  they  quickly  run  ; 
Which  in  the  space  of  seven  short  years  is  done  ; 
The  immortal  line  in  sure  succession  reigns. 
The  fortune  of  the  family  remains  ; 
And  grandsires'  grandsons  the  long  list  contains. 


Besides,  not  Egypt,  India,  Media,  more 
With  servile  awe  their  idol  king  adore  : 
While  he  survives,  in  concord  and  content 
The  commons  live,  by  no  divisions  rent ;        [ment. 
But  the  great  monarch's  death  dissolves  the  govern- 
All  goes  to  ruin,  they  themselves  contrive 
To  rob  the  honey,  and  subvert  the  hive. 
The  king  presides,  his  subjects'  toil  surveys  ; 
The  servile  rout  their  careful  Cajsar  praise  : 
Him  they  extol,  they  worship  him  alone, 
They  crowd  his  levees,  and  support  his  throne  : 
They  raise  him  on  their  shoulders  with  a  shout ; 
And  when  their  sovereign's  quarrel  calls  them  out, 
His  foes  to  mortal  combat  they  defy, 
And  think  it  honor  at  his  feet  to  die. 

ANIMAL   INSTl.SCTS   EXPLAINED. 

Induced  by  such  examples,  some  have  taught 
That  bees  have  portions  of  ethereal  thought ; 
Endued  with  particles  of  heavenly  fires  : 
For  God  the  whole  created  mass  inspires  ;     [throws 
Through  heaven,  and  earth,  and  ocean's  depth,  He 
His  influence  round,  and  kindles  as  He  goes,  [fowls. 
Hence  flocks,  and  herds,  and  men,  and  beasts,  and 
With  breath  are  quickened,  and  attract  their  souls; 
Hence^  take  the  forms  his  prescience  did  ordain, 
And  into  Him  at  length  resolve  again. 
No  room  is  left  for  death,  they  mount  the  sky, 
And  to  their  own  congenial  planets  fly. 


Now  when  thou  hast  decreed  to  seize  their  stores. 
And  by  prerogative  to  break  their  doors, 
With  sprinkled  water  first  the  city  choke, 
And  then  pursue  the  citizens  with  smoke.' 
Two  honey  harvests  fall  in  every  year  : 
First,  when  the  pleasing  Pleiades  appear, 
And  springing  upward  spurn  the  briny  seas  ; 
Again,  when  their  aS'righted  quire  surveys 
The  watery  Scorpion  mend  his  pace  behind. 
With  a  black  train  of  storms,  and  winter  wind, 
They  plunge  into  the  deep,  and  safe  protection  find. 
Prone  to  revenge,  the  bees,  a  wrathful  race, 
When  once  provoked,  assault  the  aggressoi"'s  face  : 
And  through  the  purple  veins  a  passage  find  ; 
There  fix  their  stings,  and  leave  their  souls  behind. 

HOW  TO  DESTBOT  THE  BEE-MOTH,   LIZABDS,  ETC. 

But  if  a  pinching  winter  thou  foresee. 
And  wouldst  preserve  thy  famished  family  ; 
With  fragrant  thyme  the  city  fumigate, 
And  break  the  waxen  walls  to  save  the  state. 
For  lurking  lizards  often  lodge,  by  stealth. 
Within  the  suburbs,  and  purloin  their  wealth. 
And  lizards,  shunning  light,  a  dark  retreat 
Have  found  in  combs,  and  undermined  the  seat. 
Or  lazy  drones,  without  their  share  of  pain, 
In  winter-quarters  free,  devour  the  gain  ; 
Or  wasps  invest  the  camp  with  loud  alarms, 
And  mix  in  battle  with  unequal  arms  ; 
Or  secret  moths  are  there  in  silence  fed  ; 
Or  spiders  in  the  vault  their  snary  webs  have  spread. 

The  more  oppressed  by  foes,  or  famine  pined. 
The  more  increase  thy  care  to  save  the  sinking  kind ; 
With  greens  and  flowers  recruit  their  empty  hives, 
And  seek  fresh  forage  to  sustain  their  lives. 


But  since  they  share  with  man  one  common  fate. 
In  health  and  sickness,  and  in  turns  of  state  ; 
Observe  the  symptoms  when  they  fall  away. 
And  languish  with  insensible  decay. 
They  change  their  hue,  with  haggard  eyes  they  stare. 
Lean  are  their  looks,  and  shagged  is  their  hair  : 
And  crowds  of  dead,  that  never  must  return 
To  their  loved  hives,  in  decent  pomp  are  borne  : 
Their  friends  attend  the  hearse,  the  next  relations 

The  sick  for  air  before  the  portal  gasp, 
Their  feeble  legs  within  each  other  clasp  j 
Or  idle  in  their  empty  hives  remain. 
Benumbed  with  cold,  and  listless  of  their  gain. 
Soft  whispers,  then,  and  broken  sounds,  are  heard, 
As  when  the  woods  by  gentle  winds  are  stirred  ; 
Such  stifled  noise  as  the  close  furnace  hides, 
Or  dying  murmurs  of  departing  tides. 

1  This  waste  is  unnecessary  ;  it  sufBces  to  place  several 
boxes  above  each  other,  with  a  hole  of  communication  be- 
tween. The  top  box  is  filled  first ;  a  little  rapping  on  it 
wiU  drive  the  bees  down,  when  it  can  be  taken  off,  full.    j. 


SUMMER — JULY. 


This  when  thou  aecat,  Qnlbanoan  odors  use, 
And  honoy  in  the  sickly  hivo  infuao. 
Through  roodon  pipes  convoy  the  golden  flood, 
T'  invito  tho  people  to  their  wonted  food  ; 
Mix  it  with  thickened  juice  of  sodden  wines, 
And  raisins  from  the  grapes  of  Psythian  vinos  : 
To  these  add  pounded  galls,  and  roses  dry,    [taury. 
And  with    Cecropian   thymo,   strong-eccnted  cen- 

THK  AHRLLUS  MEDICINK. 

A  flower  there  is,  that  grows  in  meadow  ground, 
Amcllus  called,  and  easy  to  be  found  ; 
For  from  one  root  the  rising  stem  bestows 
A  wood  of  leaves,  and  violet-purple  boughs  : 
The  flower  itself  is  glorious  to  behold. 
And  shines  on  altars  like  refulgent  gold  : 
Sharp  to  the  taste,  by  shepherds  near  the  stream 
Of  Mella  found,  and  thenco  they  gave  the  name. 
Boll  this  restoring  root  in  generous  wine, 
And  set  beside  tho  door,  tho  sickly  stock  to  dine. 


But  if  the  laboring  kind  be  wholly  lost : 
And  not  to  be  retrieved  with  care  or  cost ; 
'T  is  time  to  touch  the  precepts  of  an  art, 
The  Arcadian  master  did  of  old  impart  ; 
And  how  he  stocked  his  empty  hives  again. 
Renewed  with  putrid  gore  of  oxen  slain. 
An  ancient  legend  I  prepare  to  sing. 
And  upward  follow  fame's  immortal  spring  : 

For  where  with  seven-fold  horns  mysterious  Nile 
Surrounds  the  skirts  of  Egypt's  fruitful  isle, 
And  where  in  pomp  tho  sunburnt  people  ride. 
On  painted  barges,  o'er  the  teeming  tide, 
■WTiich,  pouring  down  from  Ethiopian  lands,  [sands; 
Makes  green  the  soil  with  slime,  and  black,  prolific 
That  length  of  region,  and  large  tract  of  ground, 
In  this  one  art  a  sure  relief  have  found. 
First,  in  a  place  by  nature  close,  they  build 
A  narrow  flooring,  guttered,  walled,  and  tiled. 
In  this,  four  windows  are  contrived,  that  strike 
To  the  four  winds  opposed,  their  beams  oblique. 
A  steer  of  two  years  old  they  take,  whose  head 
Now  first  with  burnished  horns  begins  to  spread  ; 
Thoy  stop  his  nostrils,  while  ho  strives  in  vain 
To  breathe  free  air,  and  struggles  with  his  pain. 
Knocked  down,  ho  dies  :  his  bowels,  bruised  within, 
Betray  no  wound  on  his  unbroken  skin. 
Extended  thus,  in  his  obscene  abode,  [strewed 

Thoy  leave  the  beast ;    but  first  sweet  flowers  are 
Beneath  his  body,  broken  boughs  and  thyme. 
And  pleasing  cassia  just  renewed  in  prime. 
This  must  be  done  ore  Spring  makes  equal  day. 
When  western  winds  on  curling  waters  play  : 
Ere  painted  meads  produce  their  flowery  crops. 
Or  swallows  twitter  on  tho  ohimney-tops. 
The  tainted  blood,  in  this  close  prison  pent. 
Begins  to  boil,  and  through  the  bones  ferment. 
Then,  wondrous  to  behold,  new  creatures  rise, 
A  moving  mass  at  first,  and  short  of  thighs  ; 
Till  shooting  out  with  legs,  and  imped  with  wings. 


Tho  grubs  proceed  to  bees  with  pointed  stinga  : 
And  more  and  more  afl'eeting  uir,  thoy  try 
Their  tender  pinions,  and  begin  to  fly.  [clouds. 

At  length,    like    summer  storms   from    spreading 
That  burst  at  once,  and  pour  impetuous  floods  ; 
Or  nights  of  arrows  from  the  Parthian  bows, 
When  from  afar  they  gall  embattled  foes  ; 
With  such  a  tempest  through  the  skies  they  steer; 
And  such  a  form  the  winged  squadron J  boar. 

SIORV  OF  ARIST.BCS  AND  niS  UOTBKR  CTag.NK.  — TBK  PLilST 


Wliiit  jriHl,  O  nmse,  this  useful  science  taught? 
Or  l'>  ^^!l  ii  [liih  -  I  \[.rrience  was  it  brought  ? 

.-.I  '    ,11,    I.    !M  luir  Tempo  fled. 
Hi-  1  I     I :i'''.  ur  diseases,  dead  ; 

Oil  1'*  ii.  ii--   i..iitU-'  It*.'  .-.loud,  and  near  his  holy  head. 
And  while  his  falling  tears  the  stream  supplied. 
Thus,  mourning,  to  his  mother  goddess  cried. 
Mother  Cyrene,  mother,  whose  abode 
Is  in  tho  depth  of  this  immortal  flood  ; 
What  boots  it  that  from  Phcebus'  loins  I  spring, 
The  third,  by  him  and  thee,  from  heaven's  high 
0  !  where  is  all  thy  boasted  pity  gone,  [king: 

And  promise  of  the  skies  to  thy  deluded  son  ? 
Why  didst  thou  mo,  unhappy  me,  create  ? 
Odious  to  gods,  and  born  to  bitter  fate.       [plough. 
Whom   scarce   my  sheep,  and   scarce   my  painful 
The  needful  aids  of  human  life  allow  : 
So  wretched  is  thy  son,  so  hard  a  mother  thou. 
Proceed,  inhuman  parent,  in  thy  scorn  ; 
Root  up  my  trees,  with  blights  destroy  my  com  ; 
My  vineyards  ruin,  and  my  sheep-folds  burn  :  — 
Let  loose  thy  rage,  let  all  thy  spite  be  shown. 
Since  thus  thy  hate  pursues  the  praises  of  thy  son. 


But  from  her  mossy  bower  below  the  ground, 
llis  careful  mother  heard  the  plaintive  sound. 
Encompassed  with  her  sea-green  sisters  round. 
One  common  work  thoy  plied  :  their  distafls  full 
With  carded  locks  of  blue  Milesian  wool. 
Spio  with  Drymo  brown,  and  Xanthe  fair, 
Anil  sweet  Phyllodooo  with  long  dishevelled  hair  : 
Cydippo  with  Lycorias,  ono  a  maid. 
And  one  that  once  bad  called  Lucina's  aid. 
Olio  and  Beroe,  from  one  father  both. 
Both  girt  with  gold,  and  clad  in  parti-oolorcd  cloth. 
Opis  the  meek,  and  Deiopeia  proud  ; 
Niswa  lofty,  with  Ligma  loud  ; 
Thalia  joyous,  Ephyre  the  sad. 
And  Arothusa,  onoo  Diana's  maid. 
But  now,  her  quiver  loft,  to  love  betrayed. 
To  these  Clymeno  the  sweet  theft  declares 
Of  Mars'  and  Vulcan's  unavailing  eares  : 
And  all  the  rapes  of  gods,  and  every  love. 
From  ancient  Chaos  down  to  youthful  Jove, 

Thus  while  she  sings,  tho  sisters  turn  the  wheel, 
Empty  tho  woolly  rock,  and  fill  the  reel. 
A  mournful  sound  again  tho  mother  hears  ; 
Again  tho  mournful  sound  invades  tho  sisters'  ears: 


30 


234 


RURAL   POETRY. VIRGIL. 


Starting  at  onoe  from  their  green  seats,  they  rise  ; 

Fear  in  their  hearts,  amazement  in  their  eyes. 

But  Arethusa,  leaping  from  her  bed, 

First  lifts  above  the  waves  her  beauteous  head  ; 

And,  crying  from  afar,  thus  to  Cyrenc  said. 

0  sister  !   not  with  causeless  fear  possest. 

No  stranger  voice  disturbs  thy  tender  breast. 

'T  is  Aristeus,  't  is  thy  darling  son, 

Who  to  his  careless  mother  makes  his  moan. 

Near  Ids  paternal  stream  he  sadly  stands, 

With  downcast  eyes,  wet  cheeks,  and  folded  hands, 

Upbraiding  heaven  from  whence  his  lineage  came; 

And  cruel  calls  the  gods,  and  cruel  thee,  by  name. 

CYRENB     RECEIVES     HEB     SON  ;     THE     HOMES  OF    THE    RIVERS 
iSD   LAKES. 

Cyrene,  moved  with  love,  and  seized  with  fear. 
Cries  out,  conduct  my  son,  conduct  him  here  : 
'T  is  lawful  for  the  youth,  derived  from  gods, 
To  view  the  secrets  of  our  deep  abodes. 
At  once  she  waved  her  hand  on  either  side, 
At  once  the  ranks  of  swelling  streams  divide. 
Two  rising  heaps  of  liquid  crystal  stand. 
And  leave  a  space  betwixt,  of  empty  sand. 
Thus  safe  received,  the  downward  track  he  treads, 
Which  to  his  mother's  watery  palace  leads. 
With  wondering  eyes  he  views  the  secret  store 
Of  lakes,  that  pent  in  hollow  caverns  roar  ; 
He  hears  the  crackling  sound  of  coral  woods, 
And  sees  the  secret  source  of  subterranean  floods. 
And  where,  distinguished  in  their  several  cells. 
The  fount  of  Phasis  and  of  Lycus  dwells  ; 
Where  swift  Euipeus  in  his  bed  appears. 
And  Tiber  his  majestic  forehead  rears. 
Whence  Anio  flows,  and  Hypanis,  profound. 
Breaks   through   th'  opposing    rocks   with   raging 
Where  Po  first  issues  from  his  dark  abodes,  [sound. 
And,  awful  in  his  cradle,  rules  the  floods. 
Two  golden  horns  on  his  large  front  he  wears. 
And  his  grim  face  a  hull's  resemblance  bears. 
With  rapid  course  he  seeks  the  sacred  main. 
And  fattens,  as  he  runs,  the  fruitful  plain. 

THE  WATER  PALACE  OF  CYEESE,  AND  HEB  ENTERTAINMENT. 

Now  to  the  court  arrived,  the  admiring  son 
Beholds  the  vaulted  roofs  of  pory  stone  ; 
Now  to  his  mother  goddess  tells  his  grief, 
Which  she  with  pity  hears,  and  promises  relief. 
Th'  ofiicious  nymphs,  attending  in  a  ring, 
With  water  drawn  from  their  perpetual  spring. 
From  earthly  dregs  his  body  purify, 
And  rub  his  temples,  with  fine  towels,  dry  : 
Then  load  the  tables  with  a  liberal  feast. 
And  honor  with  full  bowls  their  friendly  guest. 
The  sacred  altars  are  involved  in  smoke. 
And  the  bright  choir  their  kindred  gods  invoke. 
Two  bowls  the  mother  fills  with  Lydian  wine  ; 
Then  thus,  '  Let  these  be  poured,  with  rites  divine. 
To  the  great  authors  of  our  watery  line  ; 
To  father  Ocean,  this  ;  and  this,  she  said. 
Be  to  the  Nymphs,  his  sacred  sisters,  paid,  [shade.' 
Who  rule  the  watery  plains,  and  hold  the  woodland 


She  sprinkled  thrice  with  wine  the  vestal  fire, 
Thrice  to  the  vaulted  roof  the  flames  aspire. 
Raised  with  so  blest  an  omen,  she  begun. 
With  words  like  these,"  to«heer  her  drooping  son. 


In  the  Carpathian  bottom  makes  abode 
The  shepherd  of  the  seas,  a  prophet  and  a  god  ; 
High  o'er  the  main  in  watery  pomp  he  rides, 
His  azure  oar  and  finny  coursers  guides  : 
Proteus  his  name  :  to  his  Pallenian  port 
I  see  from  far  the  weary  god  resort. 
Him  not  alone  we  river  gods  adore. 
But  aged  Nereus  hearkens  to  his  lore. 
With  sure  foresight,  and  with  unerring  doom, 
He  sees  what  is,  and  was,  and  is  to  come. 
This  Neptune  gave  him,  when  he  gave  to  keep 
His  scaly  flocks,  that  graze  the  watery  deep. 
Implore  his  aid,  for  Proteus  only  knows 
The  secret  cause,  and  cure  of  all  thy  woes. 
But  first  the  wily  wizard  must  be  caught, 
For,  unconstrained,  he  nothing  tells  for  naught  ; 
Nor  is  with  prayers,  or  bribes,  or  flattery  bought. 
Surprise  him  first,  and  with  hard  fetters  bind  ; 
Then  all  his  frauds  will  vanish  into  wind. 
I  will  myself  conduct  thee  on  thy  way, 
When  next  the  southing  sun  inflames  the  day  : 
When  the  dry  herbage  thirsts  for  dews  in  vain. 
And  sheep,  in  shades,  avoid  the  parching  plain, 
Then  will  I  lead  thee  to  his  secret  seat ; 
When,  weary  with  his  toil,  and  scorched  with  heat. 
The  wayward  sire  frequents  his  cool  retreat. 
His  eyes  with  heavy  slumber  overcast, 
With  force  invade  his  limbs,  and  bind  him  fast : 
Thus  surely  bound,  yet  be  not  over  bold, 
The  slippery  god  will  try  to  loose  his  hold, 
And  various  forms  assume  to  cheat  thy  sight, 
And  with  vain  images  of  beasts  affright : 
With  foamy  tusks  will  seem  a  bristly  boar, 
Or  imitate  the  lion's  angry  roar  ; 
Break  out  in  crackling  flames  to  shun  thy  snares, 
Or  hiss  a  dragon,  or  a  tiger  stares  ; 
Or  with  a  wile,  thy  caution  to  betray. 
In  fleeting  streams  attempt  to  slide  away. 
But  thou,  the  more  he  varies  forms,  beware 
To  strain  his  fetters  with  a  stricter  care  : 
Till,  tiring  all  his  arts,  he  turns  again 
To  his  true  shape,  in  which  he  first  was  seen. 


This  said,  with  nectar  she  her  son  anoints  ; 
Infusing  vigor  through  his  mortal  joints  : 
Down  from  his  head  the  liquid  odors  ran  ; 
He  breathed  of  heaven,  and  looked  above  a  man. 

Within  a  mountain's  hollow  womb  there  lies 
A  large  recess,  concealed  from  human  eyes  ; 
Where  heaps  of  billows,  driven  by  wind  and  tide, 
In  form  of  war,  their  watery  ranks  divide  ; 
And  there,  like   sentries  set,  without  the  mouth 
abide  ; 


SUMMER  —  JULY. 


235 


A  station  safe  for  ships,  when  tempests  roar, 

A  silent  harbor,  and  a  covered  shore. 

Secure  within  resides  the  various  god. 

And  draws  a  rook  upon  his  dark  abode. 

Hither  with  silent  stops,  secure  from  sight. 

The  goddess   guides  her  son,  and  turns  him  from 

the  light  : 
Herself,  involved  in  clouds,  precipitates  her  flight. 


'T  was  noon  j  the  sultry  dog-star  from  the  sky 
Scorched  Indian  swains,  the  rivellcd  grass  was  dry  ; 
The  sun  with  flaming  arrows  pierced  the  flood, 
And,  darting  to  the  bottom,  baked  the  mud  : 
When  weary  Proteus,  from  the  briny  waves, 
Retired  for  shelter  to  his  wonted  caves  : 
His  finny  flocks  about  their  shepherd  play. 
And,  rolling  round  him,  spirt  the  bitter  sea. 
XJnwieldily  they  wallow  first  in  ooze. 
Then  in  the  shady  covert  seek  repose. 
Himself  their  herdsman,  on  the  middle  mount, 
Takes  of  his  mustered  flocks  a  just  account. 
So,  seated  on  a  rock,  a  shepherd's  groom 
Surveys  his  evening  flocks  returning  home  ; 
When  lowing  calves,  and  bleating  Iambs,  from  far. 
Provoke  the  prowling  wolf  to  nightly  war. 


The 


[  PBOTECS. 

offers,  and  the  youth  compIi( 


For  scarce  the  weary  god  had  closed  his  eyes. 

When  rushing  on,  with  shouts,  he  binds  in  chains 

The  drowsy  prophet,  and  his  limbs  constrains. 

lie,  not  unmindful  of  his  usual  art. 

First  in  dissembled  fire  attempts  to  part  ; 

Then  roaring  beasts,  and  running  streams,  he  tries. 

And  wearies  all  his  miracles  of  lies  ; 

But  having  shifted  every  form  to  'scape. 

Convinced  of  conquest,  he  resumed  his  shape  ; 

And  thus,  at  length,  in  human  accent  spoke. 

Audacious  youth,  what  madness  could  provoke 

A  mortal  man  t'  invade  a  sleeping  god  ? 

What  business  brought  thee  to  my  dark  abode  ? 

To  this  the  audacious  youth  :  thou  know'st  full 
My  name  and  business,  god,  nor  need  I  tell  :    [well 
No  man  can  Proteus  cheat  ;  but,  Proteus,  leave 
Thy  fraudful  arts,  and  do  not  thou  deceive. 
Following  the  gods'  command,  I  come  t'  implore 
Thy  help,  my  perished  people  to  restore. 


The  seer,  who  could  not  yet  his  wrath  assuage. 
Rolled  his  green  eyes,  that  sparkled  with  his  rage ; 
And  gnashed  his  teeth,  and  cried.  No  vulgar  god 
Pursues  thy  crimes,  nor  with  a  common  rod. 
Thy  great  misdeeds  have  met  a  due  reward. 
And  Orpheus'  dying  prayers  at  length  are  heard. 
For  crimes  not  his  tho  lover  lost  his  life. 
And  at  thy  hands  requires  his  murdered  wife  : 
Nor  (if  the  fates  assist  not)  canst  thou  'scape 
The  just  revenge  of  that  intended  rape. 


To  shun  thy  lawless  lust,  the  dying  bride. 
Unwary,  took  along  tho  river's  side. 
Nor  at  her  heels  perceived  the  deadly  snake, 
Tliat  keeps  the  bank,  in  covert  of  the  brake. 
But  all  her  fellow-nymphs  the  mountjiins  tear 
With  loud  laments,  and  break  tho  yielding  air 
The  realms  of  Mars  re-murmured  all  around. 
And  echoes  to  th'  Athenian  shores  rebound. 


I  more, 
[store. 


Ami    .11  :,:  1  with  music  to  re- 

Oii  lliti-,  .I..11  1. ...  ,  ...  .iv-i.,=  .ill  alone. 

Ho  called,  sighed,  sung;  his  griefs  with  day  begun, 

Nor  wore  they  finished  with  tho  setting  sun. 

Ev'n  to  the  dark  dominions  of  tho  night 

He  took  his  way,  through  forests  void  of  light ; 

And  dared  amidst  the  trembling  ghosts  to  sing; 

And  stood  before  th'  inexorable  king. 

ORPBEOS  VISITS  nELL. 

Th'  infernal  troops  like  passing  shadows  glide. 
And,  listening,  crowd  the  sweet  musician's  side  : 
Not  flocks  of  birds,  when  driven  by  storms  or  night, 
Stretch  to  the  forest  with  so  thick  a  flight. 
Men,  matrons,  children,  and  the  unmarried  maid. 
The  mighty  hero's  more  majestic  shade,  [laid. 

And  youths  on  funeral  piles  before  their  parents 
All  these  Cocytus  bounds  with  squalid  reeds. 
With  muddy  ditches,  and  with  deadly  weeds  : 

^^ ".■.'.      ni^  -tr.-alii 


The  gaping  I 
The  furies  li. 


1. 1 ly  ground. 


standing  wheel. 

E,  LOOKS     BiCK,    AND 


All  dangers  past,  at  length  the  lovely  bride 
In  safety  goes,  with  her  melodious  guide  ; 
Longing  the  common  light  again  to  share. 
And  draw  the  vital  breath  of  upper  air  : 
He  first,  and  close  behind  him  followed  she. 
For  such  was  Proserpine's  severe  decree. 
When  strong  desires  th'  impatient  youth  invado  ; 
By  little  caution  and  much  lovo  betrayed  : 
A  fault  which  easy  pardon  might  receive, 
Were  lovers  judges,  or  could  hell  forgive. 
For  near  the  confines  of  ethereal  liglit. 
And  longing  for  tho  glimmering  of  a  sight. 
The  unwary  lover  cast  his  eyes  behind. 
Forgetful  of  the  law,  nor  master  of  his  mind. 

Straight  all  his  hopes  exhaled  in  empty  smoke  ; 
And  his  long  toils  were  forfeit  for  a  look. 
Three  flashes  of  blue  lightning  gave  the  sign 
Of  cov'nants  broke,  throe  peals  of  thunder  join. 
Then  thus  the  bride  :  What  fury  seized  on  thee, 
Unhappy  man  !  to  lose  thyself  and  mo  ? 


RURAL    POETRY. VIRGIL. 


Dragged  back  again  by  cruel  destinies, 

An  iron  slumber  shuts  my  swimming  eyes. 

And  now  farewell,  —  involved  in  shades  of  night, 

Forever  I  am  ravished  from  thy  sight. 

In  vain  I  reach  my  feeble  hands,  to  join 

In  sweet  embraces  ;  ah  !  no  longer  thine  ! 

She  said,  and  from  his  eyes  the  fleeting  fair 

Retired,  like  subtile  smoke  dissolved  in  air  ; 

And  left  her  hopeless  lover  in  despair. 

In  vain,  with  folding  arms,  the  youth  assayed 

To  stop  her  flight,  and  strain  the  flying  shade  : 

He  prays,  he  raves,  all  means  in  vain  he  tries, 

With  rage  inflamed,  astonished  with  surprise  : 

But  she  returned  no  more,  to  bless  his  longing  eyes. 

THE   GRIEF   OF   OEPHBCS  ;   THE   BEREAVED    NIGHTINGALE. 

Nor  would  the  infernal  ferryman  once  more 
Be  bribed,  to  waft  him  to  the  further  shore. 
What  should  he  do,  who  twice  had  lost  his  love? 
What  notes  invent,  what  new  petitions  move  ? 
Her  soul  already  was  consigned  to  fate, 
And  shivering  in  the  leaky  sculler  sat. 
For  seven  continued  months,  if  fame  say  true, 
The  wretched  swain  his  sorrows  did  renew  ; 
By  Strymon's  freezing  streams  he  sat  alone, 
The  rocks  were  moved  to  pity  with  his  moan  : 
Trees  bent  their  heads  to  hear  him  sing  his  wrongs, 
Fierce  tigers  couched  around,  and  lolled  their  fawn- 
ing tongues. 

So,  close  in  poplar  shades,  her  children  gone, 
The  mother-nightingale  laments  alone  : 
Whose  nest  some  prying  churl  had  found,  and  thence, 
By  stealth,  conveyed  th'  unfeathered 
But  she  supplies  the  night  with  mournful 
And  melancholy  music  fills  the  plains. 


Sad  Orpheus  thus  his  tedious  hours  employs, 
Averse  from  Venus,  and  from  nuptial  joys. 
Alone  he  tempts  the  frozen  floods,  alone 
Th'  unhappy  climes,  where  Spring  was  never  known ; 
He  mourned  his  wretched  wife,  in  vain  restored, 
And  Pluto's  unavailing  boon  deplored. 

The  Thracian  matrons,  who  the  youth  accused 
Of  love  disdained,  and  marriage-rites  refused. 
With  furies  and  nocturnal  orgies  fired. 
At  length  against  his  sacred  life  conspired,    [killed 
Whom   ev'n   the  savage  beasts   had   spared,  they 
And  strewed  his  mangled  limbs  about  the  field. 
Then,  when  his  head,  from  his  fair  shoulders  torn. 
Washed  by  the  waters,  was  on  Hehrus  borne,  —  . 
Ev'n  then  his  trembling  tongue  invoked  his  bride  ; 
With  his  last  voice,  Eurydioe,  he  cried, 
Eurydioe,  the  rocks  and  river-banks  replied. 


The  nymph  returned,  her  drooping  son  to  cheer. 
And  bade  him  banish  his  superfluous  fear  : 
For  now,  said  she,  the  cause  is  known  from  whence 
Thy  woe  succeeded,  and  for  what  ofience  : 
The  nymphs,  companions  of  th'  unhappy  maid, 
This  punishment  upon  thy  crimes  have  laid  ; 
And  sent  a  plague  among  thy  thriving  bees. 
With  vows  and  suppliant  prayers  their  powers  ap- 
The  soft  Naptean  race  will  soon  repent  [pease  : 

Their  anger,  and  remit  the  punishment : 
The  secret  in  an  easy  method  lies  ; 
Select  four  brawny  bulls  for  sacrifice. 
Which  on  Lycieus  graze,  without  a  guide  ; 
Add  four  fair  heifers  yet  in  yoke  untried  : 
For  these,  four  altars  in  their  temple  rear. 
And  then  adore  the  woodland  powers  with  prayer. 
From  the  slain  victims  pour  the  streaming  blood, 
And  leave  the  bodies  in  the  shady  wood  : 
Nine  mornings  thence,  Lethsean  poppy  bring, 
To  appease  the  manes  of  the  poet's  king  : 
And,  to  propitiate  his  offended  bride, 
A  fatted  calf  and  a  black  ewe  provide  ! 
This  finished,  to  the  former  woods  repair. 


This  answer  Proteus  gave,  nor  more  he  said, 
But  in  the  billows  plunged  his  hoary  head  ;  [spread. 
And  where  he  leaped,  the  waves  in  circles  widely 


His  mother's  precepts  he  performs  with  care  ; 
The  temple  visits,  and  adores  with  prayer. 
Four  altars  raises  ;   from  his  herd  he  culls. 
For  slaughter,  four  the  fairest  of  his  bulls  ; 
Four  heifers  from  his  female  store  he  took, 
All  fair,  and  all  unknowing  of  the  yoke. 
Nine  mornings  thence,  with  sacrifice  and  prayers, 
The  powers  atoned,  he  to  the  grove  repairs. 
Behold  a  prodigy  !  for  from  within 
The  broken  bowels,  and  the  bloated  skin, 
A  buzzing  noise  of  bees  his  ears  alarms,— 
Straight  issue  through  the  sides  assembling  swarms; 
Dark  as  a  cloud  they  make  a  wheeling  flight. 
Then  on  a  neighboring  tree,  descending,  light  : 
Like  a  large  cluster  of  black  grapes  they  show. 
And  make  a  large  dependence  from  the  bough. 

COSCLCSIOS    OF    TBB    GEORGICS.  —  COMPLIMENT    TO   CESAR  J 


Thus  have  I  sung  of  fields,  and  flocks,  and  trees. 
And  of  the  waxen  work  of  laboring  bees: 
While  mighty  Cajsar,  thundering  from  afar. 
Seeks  on  Euphrates'  banks  the  spoils  of  war  ; 
With  conquering  arts  asserts  his  country's  cause. 
With  arts  of  peace  the  willing  people  draws  ; 
On  the  glad  earth  the  Golden  Age  renews. 
And  his  great  father's  path  to  heaven  pursues. 
While  I  at  Naples  pass  my  peaceful  days. 
Affecting  studies  of  less  noisy  praise  :  [shade. 

And   bold,   through   youth,   beneath   the  beechen 
The  lays  of  shepherds,  and  their  loves  have--played. 


a-lriuj  autf  Tuillati   for  |u(]|. 


GRAY'S  "ELEGY," 

\    COUNTRY    CHURCB-YABD. 


The  curfew  toll8  the  knoll  of  parting  day, 

The  lowing  herd  winds  slowly  o'er  the  lea, 
The  ploughman  homeward  plods  his  weary  way, 

And  leaves  the  world  to  darkness  and  to  mo. 
Now  fades  the  glimmering  landscape  on  the  sight. 

And  all  the  air  a  solemn  stillness  holds. 
Save  where  the  beetle  wheels  his  drony  flight, 

And  drowsy  tinklings  lull  the  distant  folds  ; 
Save  that,  from  yonder  ivy-mantled  tower. 

The  moping  owl  docs  to  the  moon  complain 
Of  such  as,  wandering  near  her  secret  bower. 

Molest  her  ancient,  solitary  reign. 
Beneath  those  rugged  elms,  that  yew-tree's  shade, 

Where  heaves  the  turf  in  many  a  mouldering  heap, 
Each  in  his  narrow  cell  forever  laid, 

The  rude  forefathers  of  the  hamlet  sleep. 

The  brec7,y  call  of  incense-breathing  morn. 

The  swallow,  twittering  from  the  straw-built  shod. 

The  cock's  shrill  clarion,  or  the  echoing  horn, 
No  more  shall  rouse  them  from  their  lowly  bed. 

For  them  no  more  the  blazing  hearth  shall  burn. 
Or  busy  housewife  ply  her  evening  care  ; 

Nor  chililreu  run  to  lisp  their  sire's  return. 
Or  climb  his  knees  the  envied  kiss  to  share. 

Oft  did  the  harvest  to  their  sickle  yield  ; 

Their  furrow  oft  the  stubborn  glebe  has  broke  ; 
How  jocund  did  they  drive  their  teams  afield  ! 

How  bowed  the  woods  beneath  their  sturdy  stroke! 

Let  not  Ambition  mock  their  useful  toil, 

Their  homely  joys,  and  destiny  obscure  ; 
Nor  Grandeur  hear  with  a  disdainful  smile 

The  short  and  simple  annals  of  the  poor. 
The  boast  of  heraldry,  the  pomp  of  power. 

And  all  that  beauty,  all  that  wealth,  o'er  gave, 
Await,  alike,  the  ineviUiblo  hour  ; 

The  paths  of  glory  load  but  to  the  grave. 
Nor  you,  yo  proud  !  impute  to  these  the  fault. 

If  memory  o'er  their  tomb  no  trophies  raise, 
Where  through  the  long-drawn  aisle  and  fretted  vault 

The  pealing  antliem  swells  the  note  of  praise. 
Can  storied  urn,  or  animated  bust. 

Back  to  its  mansion  call  the  fleeting  breath  ? 
Can  Honor's  voice  provoke  the  silent  du.st. 

Or  Flattery  soothe  the  dull,  cold  ear  of  death  ? 


Perhaps  in  this  noglccted  spot  is  laid 

Some  heart  once  pregnant  with  celestial  fire  : 
Hands  that  the  rod  of  empire  might  have  swayed. 

Or  waked  to  ecstasy  the  living  lyre. 
But  Knowledge  to  their  eyes  her  ani-ple  page. 

Rich  with  the  sjioils  of  time,  did  ne'er  unroll  ; 
Chill  Penury  repressed  their  noble  rage. 

And  froze  the  genial  current  of  the  soul. 
Full  many  a  gem,  of  purest  ray  serene. 

The  dark,  unfathomcd  caves  of  ocean  bear  ; 
Full  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  nnseen, 

And  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  desert  air. 
Some  village  Hiimpden,  that  with  dauntless  breast 

The  little  tyrant  of  his  fields  withstood, — 
Some  mute,  inglorious  Milton,  —  hero  may  rest ; 

Some  Cromwell  guiltless  of  his  country's  blood. 
The  applause  of  listening  senates  to  command, 

The  threats  of  pain  and  ruin  to  despise. 
To  scatter  plenty  o'er  a  smiling  land. 

And  read  their  history  in  a  nation's  eyes,  — 
Their  lot  forbade  ;  nor  circumscribed  alone 

Their  growing  virtues,  but  their  crimes  confined  ; 
Forbade  to  wade  through  slaughter  to  a  throne, 

And  shut  the  gates  of  mercy  on  mankind  ; 
The  struggling  pangs  of  conscious  (ruth  to  hide. 

To  quench  the  blushes  of  ingenuous  shame, 
Or  heap  the  shrine  of  luxury  and  pride 

With  incense  kindled  at  the  muse's  flame. 
Far  from  the  madding  crowd's  ignoble  strife 

Their  sober  wishes  never  learned  to  stray  ; 
Along  the  cool  sequestered  vale  of  life 

They  kept  the  noiseless  tenor  of  their  woy. 
Yet  even  these  bones  from  insult  to  protect. 

Some  frail  memorial  still  erected  nigh. 
With  uncouth  rhjrmes  and  shapeless  sculpture  decked. 

Implores  the  passing  tribute  of  a  sigh. 
Their  name,  their  years;  spelt  by  the  unlettered  muse, 

The  place  of  fame  and  elegy  supply  : 
And  many  a  holy  text  around  she  strews. 

That  teach  the  rustic  moralist  to  die. 
For  who,  to  dumb  forgetfulness  a  prey. 

This  pleasing,  anxious  being  e'er  resigned. 
Left  the  warm  precincts  of  the  cheerful  day. 

Nor  cast  one  longing,  lingering  look  behind? 
On  some  fond  breast  the  parting  soul  relies. 

Some  pious  drops  the  closing  eye  requires  : 

Ev'n  from  the  tomb  the  voice  of  nature  cries, 

Ev'n  in  our  ashes  live  their  wonted  fires. 


238 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  GRAY  —  BLOOMFIELD. 


For  thee,  who,  mindful  of  the  unhonored  dead, 

Dost  in  these  lines  their  artless  tale  relate  ; 
If,  chance,  by  lonely  Contemplation  led, 

Some  kindred  spirit  shall  inquire  thy  fate,  — 
Ilaply  some  hoary-headed  swain  may  say, 

*  Oft  have  we  seen  him  at  the  peep  of  dawn, 
Brushing,  with  hasty  steps,  the  dews  away, 

To  meet  the  sun  upon  the  upland  lawn. 
'  There  at  the  foot  of  yonder  nodding  beech. 

That  wreathes  its  old  fantastic  root  so  high, 
His  listless  length  at  noontide  would  he  stretch, 

And  pore  upon  the  brook  that  babbles  by. 

*  Hard  by  yon  wood,  now  smiling,  as  in  scorn. 

Muttering  his  wayward  fancies,  he  would  rove  ; 
Now  drooping,  woful-wan,  like  one  forlorn, 

Or  crazed  with  care,  or  crossed  in  hopeless  love  : 
'  One  morn  I  missed  him  on  the  'customed  hill, 

Along  the  heath,  and  near  his  favorite  tree  : 
Another  came  ;  nor  yet  beside  the  rill, 

Nor  up  the  lawn,  nor  at  the  wood,  was  he. 

*  The  next,  with  dirges  due,  in  sad  array,     [borne  ; 

Slow  through   the  church-yard   path  we  saw  him 
Approach  and  read  (for  thou  canst  read)  the  lay. 
Graved  on  the  stone  beneath  yon  aged  thorn.' 

THE  EPITAPH. 

Here  rests  his  head  upon  the  lap  of  earth 

A  youth  to  Fortune  and  to  Fame  unknown  ; 
Fair  vScience  frowned  not  on  his  humble  birth. 

And  Melancholy  marked  him  for  her  own. 
Large  was  his  "bounty,  and  his  soul  sincere. 

Heaven  did  a  recompense  as  largely  send  : 
lie  gave  to  Misery  all  he  had,  a  tear  ;  [friend. 

He  gained  from  Heaven  ('twas  all  he  wished)  a 
No  further  seek  his  merits  to  disclose, 

Or  draw  his  frailties  from  their  dread  abode  — 
There  they  alike  in  trembling  hope  repose  — 

The  bosom  of  his  Father  and  his  God. 


BLOOMFIELD'S   «' DOLLY." 

*  Ingenuous  trust,  and  confidence  of  Love. 
The  bat  began,  with  giddy  wing, 

His  circuit  round  the  shed,  the  tree  ; 
And  clouds  of  dancing  gnats  to  sing 

A  summer  night's  serenity. 
Darkness  crept  slowly  o'er  the  east  ; 

Upon  the  barn-roof  watched  the  cat ; 
Sweet  breathed  the  ruminating  beast 

At  rest  where  Dolly  musing  sat. 
A  simple  maid,  who  could  employ 

The  silent  lapse  of  evening  mild. 
And  loved  its  solitary  joy  : 

For  Dolly  was  Reflection's  child. 
Ho  who  had  pledged  his  word  to  be 

Her  life's  dear  guardian,  far  rtway, 
The  flower  of  yeoman  cavalry, 

Bestrode  a  steed  with  trappings  gay. 


And  thus  from  Memory's  treasured  sweets. 

And  thus  from  Love's  pure  fount,  she  drew 
That  peace  which  busy  Care  defeats. 

And  bids  our  pleasures  bloom  anew. 
Six  weeks  of  absence  have  I  borne 

Since  Henry  took  his  fond  farewell  : 
The  charms  of  that  delightful  morn 

My  tongue  could  thus  forever  tell. 
He  at  my  window,  whistling  loud, 

Aroused  my  lightsome  heart  to  go  : 
Day,  conquering,  climbed  from  cloud  to  cloud  ; 

Tlie  fields  all  wore  a  purple  glow. 
We  strolled  the  bordering  flowers  among  : 

One  hand  the  bridle  held  behind, 
The  other  round  my  waist  was  flung  : 

Sure  never  youth  spuke  half  so  kind  ! 
The  rising  lark  I  could  but  hear  ; 

And  jocund  seemed  the  song  to  be  : 
But  sweeter  sounded  in  my  ear, 

'  Will  Dolly  still  be  true  to  me  ! ' 
From  the  rude  dock  my  skirt  had  swept 

A  fringe  of  clinging  burs  so  green  ; 
Like  them  our  hearts  still  closer  crept, 

And  hooked  a  thousand  holds  unseen. 
High  o'er  the  road  each  branching  bough 

Its  globes  of  silent  dew  had  shed  ; 
And  on  the  pure-washed  sand  below 

The  dimpling  drops  around  had  spread. 
The  sweet-brier  oped  its  pink-eyed  rose, 

And  gave  its  fragrance  to  the  gale  ; 
Though  modest  flowers  may  sweets  disclose. 

More  sweet  was  Henry's  earnest  tale. 
He  seemed,  methought,  on  that  dear  morn, 

To  pour  out  all  his  heart  to  me  ; 
As  if,  the  separation  borne, 

The  coming  hours  would  joyless  be. 
A  bank  rose  high  beside  the  way. 

And  full  against  the  morning  sun  ; 
Of  heavenly  blue  the  violets  gay 

His  hand  invited  one  by  one. 
The  posy  with  a  smile  he  gave  : 

I  saw  his  meaning  in  his  eyes  : 
The  withered  treasure  still  I  have  ; 

My  bosom  holds  the  fragrant  prize. 
With  his  last  kiss  he  would  have  vowed  ; 

But  blessings,  crowding,  forced  their  way  : 
Then  mounted  he  his  courser  proud  ; 

His  time  elapsed,  he  could  not  stay. 
Then  first  I  felt  the  parting  pang  ;  — 

Sure  the  worst  pang  the  lover  feels  ! 
His  horse,  unruly,  from  me  sprang  — 

The  pebbles  flew  beneath  bis  heels. 
Then  down  the  road  his  vigor  tried. 

His  rider  gazing,  gazing  still  : 
•  My  dearest,  I  '11  be  true,*  he  cried  ;  — 

And,  if  he  lives,  I'm  sure  he  will. 
Then  haste,  yo  hours,  —  haste.  Eve  and  Morn,  - 

Yet  strew  your  blessings  round  my  home  : 
Ere  Winter's  blasts  shall  strip  the  thorn. 

My  promised  joy,  my  Love,  will  come. 


gliltou's    "plural    ^locms." 

"  L'ALLEGRO." 

And  to  the  stack,  or  the  bam-door. 

Stoutly  struts  his  dames  before  : 

Hence,  lonthM  Mol«nch..l.v, 

Oft  listening  how  the  hounds  and  horn 

Of  Cerberus  and  blackest  Midnight  bom, 

Cheerly  rouse  the  slumbering  morn. 

In  Stygian  ciivo  forlorn,                          [holy, 

From  the  si.le  of  some  hoar  hill. 

'Jlongst  horrid  shapes,  and  shrieks,  and  sights  un- 

Through  the  high  wood  echoing  shrill  : 

Find  out  some  uncouth  cell. 

Some  time  walking,  not  unseen. 

Where  brooding  Darkness  spreads  his  jealous  wings. 

By  hedge-row  elms  on  hillocks  green, 

And  the  night  raven  sings  j 

Eight  against  the  eastern  gate. 

There  under  ebon  shades  and  low-browod  rooks, 

WTiere  the  great  sun  begins  his  stotc. 

As  ragged  as  thy  locks. 

Robed  in  flames,  and  amber  light. 

In  dark  Cimmerian  desert  ever  dwell. 

The  clouds  in  thousand  liveries  dight. 

But  come,  thou  goddess  fair  and  free, 

AThile  the  ploughman  near  at  hand 

In  heaven  ycleped  Euphrosyne, 

Whistles  o'er  the  furrowed  land, 

And  by  men,  heart^asing  Mirth, 

And  the  milk-maid  singeth  blithe. 

Whom  lovely  Venus,  at  a  birth 

And  the  mower  whets  his  scythe, 

And  every  shepherd  tells  his  talo 

To  ivy-crowned  Bacchus  bore  ; 

Under  the  hawthorn  in  the  dale. 

Or  whether  (as  some  sages  sing) 

Straight  mine  eye  hath  caught  new  pleasures 

The  frolic  wind  that  breathes  the  Spring, 

Whilst  the  landscape  round  it  measures. 

Zephyr  with  Aurora  playing, 

Russet  lawns,  and  fallows  gray, 

As  he  met  her  once  a-maying. 

Where  the  nibbling  flocks  do  stray  ; 

There  on  beds  of  violets  blue, 

Mountains  on  whose  barren  breast 

And  fresh-blown  roses  washed  in  dew, 

The  laboring  clouds  do  often  rest. 

Filled  her  with  thee  a  daughter  fair. 

Meadows  trim  with  daisies  pied, 

So  bu.xom,  blithe,  and  debonair. 

Shallow  ln.."k..  iui.l  nxrrs  wide. 

Haste  thee,  nymph,  and  bring  with  theo 

Towers  iiiMl  i.,,iil'.,i.  ,.•-  ii  srt's 

.lest  and  youthful  Jollity. 

Bosomi^a  liiji  in  iuii..l  iifL-s. 

Quips,  and  Cranks,  and  wanton  Wiles, 

Whero  imiIm, m.    i  •  .mty  lies. 

N..fls.  and  Hecks,  and  wreathed  Smiles, 

TheevM. -";.   .  1  ■,'     '      iingoycs. 

Such  as  hang  on  Hebe's  cheek. 

Hardtiv                              .y  smokes, 

And  love  to  live  in  dimple  sleek  ; 

Froml..'t".M  t"  .  ,..L.:.ks, 

Sport,  that  wrinkled  Care  derides. 

Where  C*,ryd..n  and  Tli.vrsis,  met. 

And  Laughter  holding  both  his  sides. 

Are  at  their  savory  dinner  set 

Come,  and  trip  it  as  you  go 

Of  herbs  and  other  country  messes, 

On  the  light  fantastic  toe. 

Which  the  neat-handed  Phyllis  dresses  ; 

And  in  thy  right  hand  load  with  theo 

And  then  in  haste  her  bower  she  leaves, 

The  mountain  nymph,  sweet  Liberty  ; 

With  Thestylis  to  bind  the  sheaves  ; 

And  if  I  give  thee  honor  duo. 

Or,  if  the  earlier  season  lead. 

Jlirth,  admit  mo  of  thy  crew. 

To  the  tanned  haycock  in  the  mead. 

To  live  with  her,  and  live  with  theo, 

In  unreproved  pleasures  free  ; 

The  uplond  hamlets  will  invito. 

To  hear  the  lark  begin  his  flight. 

When  the  merry  bells  ring  rouhd. 

And,  singing,  startle  the  dull  night, 

And  the  jocund  rebecs  sound 

i 

From  his  watch-tower  in  the  skies, 

To  many  a  youth  and  many  a  maid. 

i 

Till  the  dappled  dawn  doth  rise  : 

Dancing  in  the  checkered  shade  ; 

Then  to  come,  in  spite  of  Sorrow, 

And  young  and  old  come  forth  to  play 

And  at  ray  window  bid  good-morrow. 

On  a  sunshiufl  holiday, 

Through  the  sweet-brier,  or  the  vine. 

Till  the  live-long  daylight  fail  ; 

Or  the  twisted  eglantine  :  ■ 

Then  to  the  spicy,  nut-brown  ale. 

While  the  cock  with  lively  din 

With  stories  told  of  many  a  feat, 

Scatters  the  rear  of  darkness  thin. 

How  foiry  Mab  tho  junkets  eat  ; 

240 


RURAL  POETRY.  —  MILTON. 


She  was  pinched  and  pulled,  she  said  ; 
And  he,  by  friar's  lanthorn  led, 
Tells  how  the  drudging  goblin  sweat, 
To  earn  his  cream-bowl  duly  set, 
When,  in  one  night,  ere  glimpse  of  morn. 
His  shadowy  flail  hath  thrashed  the  corn 
That  ten  day-laborers  could  not  end  ; 
Then  lies  him  down,  the  lubber  flend, 
And,  stretched  out  all  the  chimney's  length, 
Basks  at  the  fire  his  hairy  strength. 
And  croi>full  out  of  doors  he  flings, 
Ere  the  first  cock  his  matin  rings. 
Thus  done  the  tales,  to  bed  they  creep, 
By  whispering  winds  soon  lulled  asleep. 

Towered  cities  please  us  then. 
And  the  busy  hum  of  men. 
Where  throngs  of  knights  and  barons  bold 
In  weeds  of  peace  high  triumphs  hold, 
With  store  of  ladies,  whose  bright  eyes 
Bain  influence,  and  judge  the  prize 
Of  wit,  or  arms,  while  both  contend 
To  win  her  grace  whom  all  commend. 
There  let  Hymen  oft  appear 
In  safi'ron  robe,  with  taper  clear. 
And  Pomp,  and  Feast,  and  Revelry, 
With  Mask  and  antii|ue  Pageantry, 
Such  sights  as  youthful  poets  dream 
On  summer  eves  by  haunted  stream. 
Then  to  the  well-trod  stage  anon, 
If  Jonson's  learned  sock  be  on. 
Or  sweetest  Shakspeare,  Fancy's  child, 
Warble  his  native  wood-notes  wild. 

And  ever,  against  eating  cares. 
Lap  me  in  soft  Lydian  airs, 
Married  to  immortal  Verse, 
Such  as  the  meeting  soul  may  pierce 
In  notes  with  many  a  winding  bout 
Of  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out. 
With  wanton  heed,  and  giddy  cunning, 
The  melting  voice  through  mazes  running. 
Untwisting  all  the  chains  that  tie 
The  hidden  soul  of  harmony  ; 
That  Orpheus'  self  may  heave  his  head 
From  golden  slumber  on  a  bed 
Of  heaped  Elysian  flowers,  and  hear 
Such  strains  as  would  have  won  the  ear 
Of  Pluto,  to  have  quite  set  free 
His  half-regained  Eurydice. 

These  delights  if  thou  canst  give, 
Mirth,  with  thee  I  mean  to  live. 


"IL  PENSEROSO." 

Hence,  vain  deluding  .Toys, 
The  brood  of  Folly,  without  father  bred, 

How  little  you  bestead, 
Or  fill  the  fi.xed  mind  with  all  your  toys  ! 

Dwell  in  some  idle  brain, 
And  fancies  fond  with  gaudy  shapes  possess. 


As  thick  and  numberless 
As  the  gay  motes  that  people  the  sunbeams, 
Or  likest  hovering  dreams, 
The  fickle  pensioners  of  Morpheus'  train. 
But  hail,  thou  goddess,  sage  and  holy  ! 
Hail,  divinest  Melancholy  ! 
Whose  saintly  visage  is  too  bright 
To  hit  the  sense  of  human  sight, 
And  therefore  to  our  weaker  view 
O'erlaid  with  black,  staid  Wisdom's  hue  ; 
Black,  but  such  as  in  esteem 
Prince  Memnon's  sister  might  beseem  : 
Or  that  starred  Ethiop  qiieen  that  strove 
To  set  her  beauties'  praise  above 
The  sea-nymphs,  and  their  powers  offended  ; 
Yet  thou  art  higher  far  descended  ; 
Thee  bright-haired  Vesta  long  of  yore 
To  solitary  Saturn  bore  ; 
His  daughter  she  —  in  Saturn's  reign 
Such  mixture  was  not  held  a  stain.  — 
Oft  in  glimmering  bowers  and  glades 
He  met  her,  and  in  secret  shades 
Of  woody  Ida's  inmost  grove, 
While  yet  there  was  no  fear  of  Jove. 

Come,  pensive  Nun,  devout  and  pure, 
Sober,  steadfast,  and  demure, 
All  in  a  robe  of  darkest  grain. 
Flowing  with  majestic  train. 
And  sable  stole  of  Cyprus  lawn. 
Over  thy  decent  shoulders  drawn. 
Come,  but  keep  thy  wonted  state. 
With  even  step,  and  musing  gait. 
And  looks  commA-cing  with  the  skies, 
Thy  wrapt  soul  sitting  in  thine  eyes  : 
There,  held  in  holy  passion  still. 
Forget  thyself  to  marble,  till 
With  a  sad,  leaden,  downward  cast 
Thou  fix  them  »u  llir  'Mith  ;l,-  fust  : 
And  join  with  tl.rr  r;,l„,  l'..;„T,  uH.l  Quiet, 
Sparc  Fast,  that  .ill  hhIi  -.i,ls  .l.,tli  diet, 
And  hears  the  iMuscs  in  a  ring 
Aye  round  about  Jove's  altar  sing  : 
And  add  to  these  retired  Leisure, 
That  in  trim  gardens  takes  his  pleasure  ; 
But  first  and  chiefest  with  thee  bring 
Him  yon  that  soars  on  golden  wing. 
Guiding  the  fiery-wheeled  throne, 
The  cherub  Contemplation  ; 
And  the  mute  Silence  hist  along, 
'Less  Philomel  will  deign  a  song. 
In  her  sweetest,  saddest  plight. 
Smoothing  the  rugged  brow  of  Night, 
While  Cynthia  checks  her  dragon  yoke 
Gently  o'er  the  accustomed  oak  ; 
Sweet  bird,  that  shunn'st  the  noise  of  Folly, 
Most  musical,  most  melancholy  ! 
Thee,  ohantress,  oft  the  woods  among 
•     I  woo,  to  hear  thy  even-song  ; 
And  missing  thee,  I  walk  unseen 
On  the  dry  smooth-shaven  green, 


SUMMER  —  JULY. 


241 


To  boholil  tho  wttmlcring  moon, 
Hiding  near  bcr  highest  noon. 
Like  ono  that  had  boon  lod  astray 
Through  tho  hoavon's  wide,  pathless  way, 
And  oft,  as  if  hor  bond  sho  bowed, 
Stooping  through  a  fleecy  eloud. 

Oft,  on  a  plat  of  rising  ground, 
I  hear  tho  far-off  curfew  sound. 
Over  some  wido-watered  shore, 
Swinging  slow  with  sullen  roar  ; 
Or,  if  the  air  will  not  permit. 
Some  still  removed  place  will  fit, 
Where  glowing  embers  through  the  room 
Teach  light  to  counterfeit  a  gloom, 
Far  from  all  resort  of  mirth. 
Save  the  cricket  on  the  hearth, 
Or  the  bellman's  drowsy  charm, 
To  bless  tho  doors  from  nightly  harm  : 
Or  let  my  lamp  at  midniglit  lumr 
Be  seen  in  some  high  lonoly  tower. 
Where  I  may  oft  outwatch  tho  Bear, 
With  thrice  great  Hermes,  or  unsphoro 
The  spirit  of  Plato,  to  unfold 
What  worlds,  or  what  vast  regions,  hold 
The  immortal  mind  that  hath  forsook 
Her  mansion  in  this  fleshly  nook  : 
And  of  those  demons  that  aro  found 
In  fire,  nir,  flood,  or  under  ground, 
Whose  power  hath  a  true  consent 
With  planet,  or  with  element. 

Sometime  let  gorgeous  Tragedy 
In  sceptred  pall  come  sweeping  by, 
Presenting  Thebes'  or  Pelops'  line. 
Or  else  the  t!\le  of  Troy  divine, 
Or  what  (though  rare)  of  later  age 
Ennobled  hath  the  buskined  stage. 

But,  0  sad  virgin,  that  thy  power 
Might  raise  Musasus  from  his  bowor. 
Or  bid  the  soul  of  Orpheus  sing 
Such  notes  as,  warbled  to  the  string, 
Drew  iron  tears  down  Pluto's  cheek, 
And  made  Hell  grant  what  Love  did  seek. 
Or  call  up  him  that  left  half  told 
Tho  story  of  Cambuscan  bold. 
Of  Camball,  and  of  Algarsife, 
And  who  had  Canace  to  wife. 
That  owned  tho  virtuous  ring  and  glass. 
And  of  the  wondrous  horse  of  brass. 
On  which  the  Tartar  king  did  ride  ; 
And  if  aught  else  great  bards  beside 
In  sage  and  solenm  tunes  have  sung, 
Of  tourneys  and  of  trophies  hung. 
Of  forests  and  enchantments  drear, 
Where  more  is  meant  than  meets  the  ear. 

Thus,  Night,  oft  see  mo  in  thy  pale  career, 
Till  civil-suited  Morn  appear, 
Not  tricked  and  frounced  as  she  was  wont 
With  the  Attic  boy  to  hunt, 
But  kerchiefed  in  a  comely  cloud, 
While  rooking  winds  are  piping  loud. 


Or  ushered  with  a  shower  still, 
When  the  gust  hath  blown  his  fill. 
Ending  on  the  rustling  leaves, 
With  minute  drops  from  off  the  eaves. 

And  when  tho  sun  begins  to  fling 
llis  flaring  beams,  mo,  goddess,  bring 
To  arched  walks  of  twilight  groves, 
And  shadows  brown,  that  Sylvan  loves. 
Of  pine,  or  monumental  oak. 
Where  the  rude  a.xo  with  heaved  stroko 
Was  never  heard  tho  nymphs  to  daunt. 
Or  fright  them  from  their  hallowed  haunt ; 
There  in  close  covert  by  some  brook. 
Where  no  profaner  eye  may  look, 
Ilide  me  from  Day's  garish  eye. 
While  the  bee,  with  honeyed  thigh. 
That  at  her  flowery  work  doth  sing. 

With  such  concert  as  they  keep, 

Entice  the  dewy-feathered  sleep  : 

And  let  some  strange,  mysterious  dream 

Wave  at  his  wings  in  aery  stream 

Of  lively  portraiture  displayed, 

Softly  on  uiy  yyW.U  hM. 

And,  as  I  u.k',  ■« -i  uiu-ic  breathe 

Sent  by  .-"IIP-  ^|.ii  II  u.  111. .rials  good, 
OrthL."uii-..ii  I..  I 


But 


wood. 
r  fail 


To  walk  lii..  -iii.li.u-  .  I  .i-t,crs  pale. 

And  love  the  high  embuwed  roof. 

With  antique  pillars,  massy  proof. 

And  storied  windows  richly  dight. 

Casting  a  dim,  religious  light. 

There  let  the  pealing  organ  blow. 

To  the  full-voiced  choir  below, 

In  service  high,  and  anthems  clear. 

As  may  with  sweetness  through  mine  ea 

Dissolve  me  into  ecstasies, 

And  bring  al!  heaven  before  mine  eyes. 

And  may  at  last  my  weary  age 
Find  out  the  peaceful  hennitage, 
The  hairy  gown  and  mossy  cell, 
Where  I  may  sit  and  rightly  spell 
Of  every  star  that  heaven  doth  shew. 
And  every  herb  that  sips  tho  dew  ; 
Till  old  E.xpericnce  do  attain 
To  something  like  prophetic  strain. 

These  pleasures.  Melancholy,  give, 
And  I  with  thee  will  choose  to  live. 


In  this  monfKly  the  author  Iwwails  a  Itnnu'il  friciid, 
fortunately  drowneil  in  his  passafio  from  Cliestcr,  on 
Irish  seas,  1837,  and  by  occasion  forcMls  the  ruin  of 
corrupted  clergy,  then  in  their  height. 

Yet  onoe  more,  0  ye  laurels,  and  onoo  more. 
Ye  myrtles  brown,  with  ivy  never  sere, 
I  come  to  pluck  your  berries  harsh  ond  crude, 


31 


242 


RURAL  POETRY. MILTON. 


And  with  forced  fingers  rude 
Shatter  your  leaves  before  the  mellowing  year. 
Bitter  constraint,  and  s;id  occasion  dear, 
Compels  me  to  disturb  your  season  due  : 
For  Lycidas  is  dead,  dead  ere  his  prime, 
Young  Lycidas,  and  hath  not  loft  his  peer  : 
Who  would  not  sing  for  Lycidas?  he  knew 
Himself  to  sing,  and  build  the  lofty  rhyme. 
He  must  not  float  upon  his  watery  bier 
Unwept,  and  welter  to  the  p.arching  wind, 
Without  the  meed  of  some  melodious  tear. 

Begin,  then,  Sisters  of  the  sacred  well, 
That  from  beneath  the  seat  of  Jove  doth  spring. 
Begin,  and  somewhat  loudly  sweep  the  string. 
Hence  with  denial  vain,  and  coy  excuse, 
So  may  some  gentle  muse 
With  lucky  words  favor  my  destined  urn, 
And,  as  she  passes,  turn. 
And  bid  fair  peace  be  to  my  sable  shroud. 
For  we  were  nursed  upon  the  self-same  hill, 
Fed  the  same  flock  by  fountain,  shade,  and  rill. 

Together  both,  ere  the  high  lawns  appeared 
Under  the  opening  eyelids  of  the  morn, 
We  drove  a-fleld,  and  both  together  heard 
AVhat  time  the  gray-fly  winds  her  sultry  horn,  — 
Battening  our  flocks  with  the  fresh  dews  of  night, 
Oft  till  the  star  that  rose  at  evening  bright  [wheel. 
Towards  heaven's  descent  had  sloped  his  westering 
Meanwhile  the  rural  ditties  were  not  mute  ; 
Tempered  to  the  oaten  flute. 

Rough  Satyrs  danced,  and  Fauns  with  cloven  heel 
From  the  glad  sound  would  not  be  absent  long,  — 
And  old  Damoetas  loved  to  hear  our  song. 

But,  0  the  heavy  change  !  now  thou  art  gone, 
Now  thou  art  gone,  and  never  must  return  ! 
Thee,  shepherd,  thee  the  woods,  and  desert  caves. 
With  wild  thyme  and  the  gadding  vine  o'ergrown, 
And  all  their  echoes,  mourn. 
The  willows  and  the  hazel  copses  green 
Shall  now  no  more  be  seen. 
Fanning  their  joyous  leaves  to  thy  soft  lays. 
As  killing  as  the  canker  to  the  rose. 
Or  taint-worn  to  the  weanling  herds  that  graze. 
Or  frost  to  flowers,  that  their  gay  wardrobe  wear, 
When  first  the  white  thorn  blows  : 
Such,  Lycidas,  thy  loss  to  shepherd's  ear.         [deep 

Where  were  ye,  Nymphs,  when  the  remorseless 
Closed  o'er  the  head  of  your  loved  Lycidas  ? 
For  neither  were  ye  playing  on  the  steep, 
Where  your  old  bards,  the  famous  Druids,  lie, 
Nor  on  the  shaggy  top  of  Mona  high. 
Nor  yet  where  Deva  spreads  her  wizard  stream  : 
Ah  me  !  I  fondly  dream. 

Had  yo  been  there — for  what  could  that  have  done  ? 
What  could  the  Muse  herself,  that  Orpheus  bore, 
The  Muse  herself,  for  her  enchanting  son. 
Whom  universal  nature  did  lament, 
When  by  the  rout  that  made  the  hideous  roar 
His  gory  visage  down  the  stream  was  sent, 
Down  the  swift  Hebrus  to  the  Lesbian  shore? 


Alas  !  what  boots  it  with  incessant  care 
To  tend  the  homely,  slighted  shepherd's  trade, 
And  strictly  meditate  the  thankless  muse  ? 
\rere  it  not  better  done,  as  others  use. 
To  sport  with  Amaryllis  in  the  shade. 
Or  with  the  tangles  of  Nersea's  hair  ? 
Fame  is  the  spur  that  the  clear  spirit  doth  raise  — 
That  last  infirmity  of  noble  minds  — 
To  scorn  delights  and  live  laborious  days  ; 
But  the  fair  guerdon  when  we  hope  to  find. 
And  think  to  burst  out  into  sudden  blaze, 
Comes  the  blind  Fury  with  the  abhorred  shears, 
And  slits  the  thin-spun  life.     But  not  the  praise, 
Pha-bus  replied,  and  touched  my  trembling  ears  ; 
Fame  is  no  plant  that  grows  on  mortal  soil. 
Nor  in  the  glist'ring  foil 
Set  off  to  the  world,  nor  in  broad  rumor  lies. 
But  lives  and  spreads  aloft  by  those  pure  eyes. 
And  perfect  witness  of  all-judging  Jove  ; 
As  He  pronounces  lastly  on  each  deed. 
Of  so  much  fame  in  heaven  expect  thy  meed. 

0  fountain  Arethuse  !  and  thou  honored  flood, 
Smooth-sliding  Mincius,  crowned  with  vocal  reeds  ! 
That  strain  I  heard  was  of  a  higher  mood  : 
But  now  my  oat  proceeds, 
And  listens  to  the  herald  of  the  sea 
That  came  in  Neptune's  plea  : 
He  asked  the  waves,  and  asked  the  felon  winds, 
Whiit  hard  mishap  hath  doomed  this  gentle  swain? 
And  questioned  every  gust  of  rugged  winds 
That  blows  from  off  each  beaked  promontory  ; 
They  knew  not  of  his  story. 
And  sage  Hippotades  their  answer  brings, 
That  not  a  blast  was  from  his  dungeon  strayed, 
The  air  was  calm,  and  on  the  level  brine 
Sleek  Panope  with  all  her  sisters  played. 
It  was  that  fatal  and  perfidious  bark 
Built  in  the  eclipse,  and  rigged  with  curses  dark. 
That  sunk  so  low  that  sacred  head  of  thine. 

Next  Camus,  reverend  sire  !  went  footing  slow. 
His  mantle  hairy,  and  his  bonnet  sedge. 
Inwrought  with  figures  dim,  and  on  the  edge 
Like  to  that  sanguine  flower,  inscribed  with  woe. 
Ah  !  who  hath  reft,  quoth  he,  my  dearest  pledge  ? 
Last  came,  and  last  did  go. 
The  pilot  of  the  Galilean  lake  ; 
Two  massy  keys  he  bore  of  metals  twain 
(The  golden  opes,  the  iron  shuts  amain)  ; 
He  shook  his  mitred  locks,  and  stern  bespake. 
How  well  could  I  have  spared  for  thee,  young  swain. 
Enow  of  such  as  for  their  bellies'  sake 
Creep,  and  intrude,  and  climb  into  the  fold  ! 
Of  other  care  they  little  reckoning  make, 
Than  how  to  scramble  at  the  shearer's  feast, 
And  shove  away  the  worthy,  bidden  guest  ;      [hold 
Blind  mouths  !  that  scarce  themselves  know  how  to 
A  sheep-hook,  or  have  learned  aught  else  the  least 
That  to  the  faithful  herdsman's  art  belongs  ! 
What  recks  it  them  ?  what  need  they  ?  they  are  sped ; 
And  when  they  list,  their  lean  and  flashy  songs 


SUMMER  —  JULY. 


Orato  on  their  scrannel  pipes  of  wretched  straw  ; 
The  hungry  sheep  loolc  up,  and  arc  not  fed, 
Hut,  swollen  with  wind,  and  the  rank  mist  thoy  draw, 
Rot  inwardly,  and  foul  contagion  spread  ; 
Besides  what  the  grim  wolf  with  privy  paw 
Daily  devours  apaco,  and  nothing  said  ; 
Hut  that  two-handed  engine  at  the  door 
Stands  ready  to  smite  once,  and  smite  no  more. 

Return,  Alpheus,  the  dread  voice  is  past 
That  shrunk  thy  streams  ;  return,  Sicilian  Muse. 
And  call  the  vales,  and  bid  them  hither  cast 
Their  bells,  and  flow'reta  of  a  thousand  hues. 
Ye  valleys  low,  where  the  mild  whispers  use 
Of  shades,  and  wanton  winds,  and  gushing  brooks, 
On  whose  fresh  lap  the  swart  star  sparely  looks, 
Throw  hither  all  your  quaint  enamelled  eyes, 
That  on  the  green  turf  suck  the  honeyed  showers, 
And  purple  all  the  ground  with  vernal  flowers. 
Bring  the  rath  primrose  that  forsaken  dies, 
The  tufted  crow-toe,  and  pale  jessamine. 
The  white-pink,  and  the  pansy  freaked  with  jet, 
The  glowing  violet. 

The  musk  rose,  and  the  well-attired  woodbine. 
With  cowslips  wan  that  hang  the  pensive  head, 
And  every  flower  that  sad  embroidery  wears  : 
Bid  amaranthus  all  bis  beauty  shed. 
And  daffadillios  fill  their  cups  with  tears, 
To  strew  the  laureate  hearse  where  Lycid  lies. 
For  so  to  interpose  a  little  ease. 
Let  our  frail  thoughts  dally  with  false  surmise. 
Ah  me  !  whilst  thee  the  shores  and  sounding  seas 
AVash  far  away,  where'er  thy  bones  are  hurled, 
Whether  beyond  the  stormy  Hebrides, 
Where  thou  perhaps  under  the  whelming  tide 
Visit'st  the  bottom  of  the  monstrous  world  ; 


Or  whether  thou,  to  our  moist  vows  denied, 
Slcep'st  by  the  fable  of  Bellerua  old, 
AVhcrc  the  great  vision  of  the  guarded  mount 
Looks  toward  Namancoa  and  Bayona's  hold  ; 
Look  homeward.  Angel,  now,  and  melt  with  ruth  : 
And,  0,  ye  dolphins,  waft  the  hapless  youth. 

Weep  no  more,  woful  shepherds,  weep  no  more. 
For  LyeiJus  your  sorrow  is  not  dead. 
Sunk  though  he  be  beneath  the  watery  floor  ; 
So  sinks  the  day-star  in  the  ocean  bed, 
And  yet  anon  repairs  his  drooping  head. 
And  tricks  his  beams,  and  with  ncw-spanglcd  ore 
Flames  in  the  forehead  of  the  morning  sky  : 
So  Lyoidas  sunk  low,  but  mounted  high.        [waves. 
Through  the  dear  luight  of  Ilim  that  walked  the 
Where  other  groves  and  other  streams  along 
With  nectar  pure  his  oozy  locks  he  laves, 
And  hears  the  unexpressivo  nuptial  scng. 
In  the  blest  kingdoms  meek  of  Joy  and  Love. 
There  entertain  him  all  the  saints  above. 
In  solemn  troops  and  sweet  societies. 
That  sing,  and  singing  in  their  glory  move. 
And  wipe  the  tears  forever  from  his  eyes. 
Now,  Lycidas,  the  shepherds  weep  no  more  ; 
Henceforth  thou  art  the  genius  of  the  shore, 
In  thy  large  recompense,  and  shalt  bo  good 
To  all  that  wander  in  that  perilous  flood. 

Thus  sang  the  uncouth  swain  to  the  oaks  and  rills. 
While  the  still  Morn  went  out  with  sandals  gray, 
He  touched  tlio  tender  stops  of  various  quills, 
AVith  eager  thought  warbling  his  Doric  lay  ; 
And  now  the  sun  had  stretched  out  all  the  hills. 
And  now  was  dropped  into  the  western  bay  ; 
At  last  ho  rose,  and  twitched  his  mantle  blue  : 
To-morrow  to  fresh  woods  and  pastures  now. 


iimcl)  f rssoiis  for  lul 


EMERSON'S  "WOOD 

And  such  I  knew  a  forest  seer, 

A  minstrel  of  the  natural  year, 

Foreteller  of  the  vernal  ides. 

Wise  harbinger  of  spheres  and  tides  — 

A  lover  true,  who  knew  by  heart 

Each  joy  the  mountain  dales  impart ; 

It  seemed  that  Nature  could  not  raise 

A  plant  in  any  secret  place  ; 

In  quaking  bog,  or  snowy  hill, 

Beneath  the  grass  that  shades  the  rill, 

Under  the  snow,  between  the  rocks, 

In  damp  fields,  known  to  bird  and  fox  ; 

But  he  would  come  in  the  very  hour 

It  opened  in  its  virgin  bower. 

As  if  a  sunbeam  showed  the  place, 

And  tell  its  long-descended  race. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  breezes  brought  him  ; 

It  seemed  as  if  the  sparrows  taught  him  ; 

As  if  by  secret  sight  he  knew 

Where,  in  far  fields,  the  orchis  grew. 

Many  haps  fall  in  the  field, 
Seldom  seen  by  wistful  eyes. 

But  all  her  shows  did  Nature  yield. 
To  please  and  win  this  pilgrim  wise. 

He  saw  the  partridge  drum  in  the  woods. 
He  heard  the  woodcock's  evening  hymn  ; 

He  found  the  tawny  thrush's  broods  ; 
And  the  sky-hawk  did  wait  for  him. 

What  others  did  at  distance  hear. 

And  guessed  within  the  thicket's  gloom, 

Wa5  showed  to  this  philosopher. 

And  at  his  bidding  seemed  to  come,      [gang, 
In  unploughed  Maine  he  sought  the  lumberer's 
Where  from  a  hundred  lakes  young  rivers  sprang  ; 
He  trod  the  unplanted  forest  floor,  whereon 
The  all-seeing  sun  for  ages  hath  not  shone  ; 
Where  feeds  the  moose  and  walks  the  surly  bear. 
And  up  the  tall  masts  runs  the  woodpecker. 
He  saw  beneath  dim  aisles,  in  odorous  beds, 
The  slight  Linnea  hang  its  twin-born  heads  ; 
And  blessed  the  monument  of  the  man  of  flowers, 
Which  breathes  his  sweet  fame  through  the  northern 
He  heard,  when  in  the  grove,  at  intervals,  [bowers. 
With  sudden  roar  the  aged  pine-tree  falls  — 
One  crash,  the  death-hymn  of  the  perfect  tree. 
Declares  the  close  of  its  green  century. 
Low  lies  the  plant  to  whose  creation  went 
Sweet  influence  from  every  element ; 
Whoso  living  towers  the  years  conspired  to  build  — 
Whose  giddy  top  the  morning  loved  to  gild. 
Through  these  green  tents,  by  eldest  Nature  dressed, 
He  roamed,  content  alike  with  man  and  beast. 


Where  darkness  found  him  he  lay  glad  at  night  ; 
There  the  red  morning  touched  him  with  its  light. 
Three  moons  his  great  heart  him  a  hermit  made. 
So  long  he  roved  at  will  the  boundless  shade. 

The  timid  it  concerns  to  ask  their  way. 
And  fear  what  foe  in  caves  and  swamps  can  stray  ; 
To  make  no  step  until  the  event  is  known. 
And  ills  to  come,  as  evils  past,  bemoan. 
Not  so  the  wise  ;  no  coward  watch  he  keeps. 
To  spy  what  danger  on  his  pathway  creeps. 
Go  where  he  will,  the  wise  man  is  at  home  — 
His  hearth  the  earth,  his  hall  the  azure  dome  ; 
Where  his  clear  spirit  leads  him,  there  his  road, 
By  God's  own  light  illumined  and  foreshowed. 


VAUGHAN'S  "EARLY   PRAYER." 

A?HEN  first  thine  eyes  unveil,  give  thy  soul  leave 
To  do  the  like  ;  our  bodies  but  forerun 
The  spirit's  duty  :  true  hearts  spread  and  heave 
Unto  their  God,  as  flowers  do  to  the  sun  :      [keep 
Give  Him  thy  first  thoughts,  then,  — so  shalt  thou 
Him  company  all  day,  and  in  Him  sleep. 
Yet  never  sleep  the  sun  up  ;  prayer  should 
Dawn  with  the  day  :  there  are  set  awful  hours 
'Twixt  Heaven  and  us  ;  the  manna  was  not  good 
After  sunrising  ;   for  day  sullies  flowers  : 
Rise  to  prevent  the  sun  ;  sleep  doth  sins  glut. 
And  heaven's  gate  opens  when  the  world's  is  shut. 
Walk  with  thy  fellow-creatures  ;  note  the  hush 
And  whisperings  amongst  them.     Not  a  spring 
Or  leaf  but  hath  his  morning  hymn  ;  ea^h  bush 
And  oak  doth  know  I  All.     Canst  thou  not  sing  ! 
0  leave  thy  cares  and  follies  !     Go  this  way. 
And  thou  art  sure  to  prosper  all  the  day. 
Serve  God  before  the  world  ;   let  Him  not  go 
Until  thou  hast  a  blessing  ;   then  resign 
The  whole  unto  Him,  and  remember  who 
Prevailed  by  wrestling,  ere  the  sun  did  shine  ; 
Pour  oil  upon  the  stones,  weep  for  thy  sin. 
Then  journey  on,  and  have  an  eye  to  heaven,  [youth. 
Mornings  are  mysteries  ;  the  first,  the   world's 
Man's  resurrection,  and  the  future's  bud,      [truth 
Shroud  in  their  births  ;  the  crown  of  life,  light ; 
Is  styled  their  star  ;  the  stone  and  hidden  food  : 
True  blessings  wait  upon  them,  one  of  which 
Should  move  —  they  make  us  holy,  happy,  rich. 
When  the  world  's  up,  and  every  swarm  abroad. 
Keep  well  thy  temper,  mix  not  with  each  clay  ; 
Despatch  necessities  ;  life  hath  a  load 
Which  must  be  carried  on,  and  safely  may  ; 
Yet  keep  those  cares  without  thee  ;  let  the  heart 
Be  God's  alone,  and  choose  the  better  part. 


SUMMER-AUGUST. 


(Toliiijcv's    ".*of;i 


thresher.  The  necessity  an 
The  works  of  nature  superi.n 
inimitaWe  by  art.    The  wenr 


Time  was,  when  clothing  sumptuous,  or  for  use. 
Save  their  own  painted  skins,  our  sires  had  none. 
As  yet  black  breeches  were  not ;  satin  smooth. 
Or  velvet  soft,  or  plush  with  shaggy  pile. 
The  hardy  chief  upon  the  rugged  rock 
Washed  by  the  sea,  or  on  the  gravelly  hank 
Thrown  up  by  wintry  torrents  ronrini;  I..11.I, 


,'th. 


in  particular,  1 
FiHe  champ«tr 
on  the  fatal  clTects 


I  sixfi  the  Sofa.     I,  who  lately  sang 
Truth,  Hope,  and  Charity,  and  touched  with  awo 
The  [Solemn  chords,  and  with  a  trembling  hand, 
EscaiK-d  with  pain  from  that  adventurous  flight. 
Now  seek  repose  upon  an  humbler  theme  ; 
The  theme  thougbi  bumble,  yet  august  and  proud 
The  occasion  —  for  the  Fair  commands  the  song. 


JOIST-STOOLS. 

Joint-stools  were  then  created  ;  on  three  legs 
Upborne  they  stood.     Three  legs  upholding  firm 
A  mossy  slab,  in  fashion  a<iuare  or  round. 
On  such  a  stool  immortal  Alfred  sat. 
And  swayed  the  sceptre  of  his  infant  realms  : 
And  such  in  ancient  halls  and  mansions  drear 
May  still  bo  seen  ;  but  perforated  sore. 
And  drilled  in  holes,  the  solid  oak  is  found. 
By  worms  voracious  eaten  through  and  through. 


RURAL    POETRY. COWPER. 


At  length  a  generation  more  refined 
Improved  the  simple  plan  ;  made  three  legs  four, 
Gave  them  a  twisted  form  vermicular, 
And  o'er  the  scat,  with  plenteous  wadding  stuEfed, 
Induced  a  splendid  cover,  green  and  blue, 
Yellow  and  red,  of  tapestry  richly  wrought 
And  woven  close,  or  needle-work  sublime. 
There  might  ye  see  the  piony  spread  wide. 
The  full-blown  rose,  the  shepherd  and  his  lass, 
Lapdog  and  lambkin  with  black  staring  eyes. 
And  parrots  with  twin  cherries  in  their  beak. 


Now  came  the  cane  from  India,  smooth  and  bright 
With  nature's  varnish  ;  severed  into  stripes, 
That  interlaced  each  other,  these  supplied 
Of  texture  firm  a  lattice-work,  that  braced 
The  new  machine,  and  it  became  a  chair. 
But  restless  was  the  chair  ;  the  back  erect 
Distressed  the  weary  loins,  that  felt  no  ease  ; 
The  slippery  seat  betrayed  the  sliding  part 
That  pressed  it,  and  the  feet  hung  dangling  down. 
Anxious  in  vain  to  find  the  distant  floor. 
These  for  the  rich  :  the  rest,  whom  fate  had  placed 
In  modest  mediocrity,  content 
With  base  materials,  sat  on  well-tanned  hides. 
Obdurate  and  unyielding,  glassy  smooth, 
AVith  here  and  there  a  tuft  of  crimson  yarn, 
Or  scarlet  crewel,  in  the  cushion  fixed. 
If  cushion  might  be  called,  what  harder  seemed 
Than  the  firm  oak,  of  which  the  frame  was  formed. 
No  want  of  timber  was  then  felt  or  feared 
In  Albion's  happy  isle.     The  lumber  stood 
Ponderous  and  fixed  by  its  own  massy  weight. 


But  elbows  still  were  wanting  ;  these,  some  si 
An  alderman  of  Cripplcgate  contrived  ; 
And  some  ascribe  the  invention  to  a  priest. 
Burly  and  big,  and  studious  of  his  ease. 
But,  rude  at  first,  and  not  with  easy  slope 
Receding  wide,  they  pressed  against  the  ribs, 
And  bruised  the  side  ;  and,  elevated  high. 
Taught  the  raised  shoulders  to  invade  the  ears. 
Long  time  elapsed  or  e'er  our  rugged  sires 
Complained,  though  incommodiously  pent  in, 
And  ill  at  ease  behind.     The  ladies  first 
'Gan  murmur,  as  became  the  softer  sex. 

INVENTION  OF   ELBOWED   SETTEES  ",     SOFAS. 

Ingenious  fancy,  never  better  pleased 
Than  when  employed  to  accoramodate  the  fair. 
Heard  tlie  sweet  moan  with  pity,  and  devised 

The  sdl'l  M'tt'i-  ;   oiM'  illiow  at  each  end, 

And  in  ilir  nill-t  :in  .IL.iw  it  received. 

Unitr.l  N,t  WiM.I  .1.  iniiioatonce. 

So  sit  (wo  kiiii;-  .1  lliiiitford  on  one  throne  ; 

And  so  two  citizens,  who  take  the  air. 

Close  packed,  and  smiling,  in  a  chaise  and  one. 


But  relaxation  of  the  languid  frame. 
By  soft  recumbency  of  outstretched  limbs, 
Was  bliss  reserved  for  happier  days.     So  slow 
The  growth  of  what  is  excellent  ;   so  hard 
To  attain  perfection  in  tbis  nether  world. 
Thus  first  necessity  invented  stools. 
Convenience  next  suggested  elbow-chairs, 
And  luxury  the  accomplished  Sofa  last. 

SLEEP  AND  THE  SOFA  j  NCRSE  ;   COACHMAN  ;    CCBATE  5    C 


The  nurse  sleeps  sweetly,  hired  to  watch  the  sick. 
Whom  snoring  she  disturbs.     As  sweetly  he. 
Who  quits  the  coach-box  at  the  midnight  hour. 
To  sleep  within  the  carriage  more  secure, 
His  legs  depending  at  the  open  door. 
Sweet  sleep  enjoys  the  curate  in  his  desk. 
The  tedious  rector  drawling  o'er  his  head  ; 
And  sweet  the  clerk  below.     But  neither  sleep 
Of  lazy  nurse,  who  snores  the  sick  man  dead  ; 
Nor  his,  who  quits  the  box  at  midnight  hour, 
To  slumber  in  the  carriage  more  secure  ; 
Nor  sleep  enjoyed  by  curate  in  his  desk  ; 
Nor  yet  the  dozings  of  the  clerk,  are  sweet. 
Compared  with  the  repose  the  Sofa  yields. 

0  may  I  live  exempted  (while  I  live 
Guiltless  of  pampered  appetite  obscene) 
From  pane's  jmIIii  i(n;.  tliat  infest  the  toe 

OflibeVtilH'    rx.r.-  Tlir    ,-.,1;,    suitS 

The  gouty  linil.,    t  1-  tiin-    lint  gouty  limb, 
Though  on  a  .-ulli.  may  1  never  feel  : 


For  I  have  loved  the  rural  walk  through  lanes 
Of  grassy  swath,  close  cropped  by  nibbling  sheep, 
And  skirted  thick  with  intertexture  firm 
Of  thorny  boughs  ;  have  loved  the  rural  walk 
O'er  hills,  through  valleys,  and  by  rivers'  brink. 
E'er  since  a  truant  boy  I  passed  my  bounds, 
To  enjoy  a  ramble  on  the  banks  of  Thames  ; 
And  still  remember,  nor  without  regret. 
Of  hours,  that  sorrow  since  has  much  endejired. 
How  oft,  my  slice  of  pocket  store  consumed, 
Still  hungering,  penniless,  and  far  from  home, 
I  fed  on  scarlet  hips  and  stony  haws. 
Or  blushing  crabs,  or  berries,  that  emboss 
The  bramble,  black  as  jet,  or  sloes  austere. 
Hard  fare  !  but  such  as  boyish  appetite 
Disdains  not ;  nor  the  palate,  undepraved 
By  culinary  arts,  uns.avory  deems. 
No  Sofa  then  awaited  my  return  ; 
Nor  Sofa  then  I  needed. 


Youth  repairs 
His  wasted  spirits  quickly,  by  long  toil 
Incurring  short  fatigue  ;  and,  though  our  years. 
As  life  declines,  speed  rapidly  away. 
And  not  a  year  but  pilfers  as  he  goes 


SUMMER  —  AUGUST. 


247 


Some  youthful  gnico,  that  age  would  gladly  kocp,  — 
A  tooth  or  auburn  lock  ;  and  by  degrees 
Their  length  and  color  from  the  locksthcy  spare  ;  — 
The  clastio  spring  of  an  unwearied  foot, 
That  mounts  the  stile  with  ease,  or  leaps  the  fence  ; 
That  play  of  lungs,  inhaling  and  again 
Respiring  freely  the  fresh  air,  that  makes 
Swift  pace  or  steep  ascent  no  toil  to  me,  — 
Mine  have  not  pilfered  yet,  nor  yet  impaired 
iMy  relish  of  fair  prospect ;  scones  that  soothed 
Or  charmed  rao  young,  no  longer  young,  I  find 
Still  soothing,  and  of  power  to  charm  me  still. 
And  witness,  dear  companion  of  my  walks, 
Whose  arm  this  twentieth  winter  I  perceive 
Fast  locked  in  mine,  with  pleasure  such  as  love, 
Confirmed  by  long  experience  of  thy  worth 
And  well-tried  virtues,  could  alone  inspire  — 
Witness  a  joy  that  thou  hast  doubled  long. 
Thou  kuowcst  my  praise  of  nature  most  sincere, 
And  that  my  raptures  are  not  conjured  up 
To  serve  occasions  of  poetic  pomp. 
But  genuine,  —  and  art  partner  of  thorn  all. 

RIRAI,  S10RT3  ;  MOVISO  PLOCCIl ;  THB  OISS  ;  CATTLE  ;    El.MS  ; 


How  oft  upon  yon  eminence  our  pace 
Has  slackened  to  a  pause,  and  we  have  borne 
The  ruffling  wind,  scarce  conscious  that  it  blow. 
While  admiration,  feeding  at  tho  eye, 
And  still  unsated,  dwelt  upon  tho  scene. 
Thence,  with  what  pleasure  have  we  just  discerned 
Tho  distant  plough  slow  moving,  «,nd  besido 
His  laboring  team,  that  swerved  not  from  the  track, 
The  sturdy  swain  diminished  to  a  boy  ! 
Ilere  Ouse,  slow  winding  through  a  level  plain 
Of  spacious  meads  with  cattle  sprinkled  o'er. 
Conducts  the  e3'e  along  his  sinuous  course 
Delighted.     There,  fast  rooted  in  their  bank. 
Stand,  never  overlooked,  our  favorite  elms. 
That  screen  tho  herdsman's  solitary  hut  ; 
While  far  beyond,  and  overthwart  the  stream, 
That,  as  with  molten  glass,  inlays  the  vale. 
The  sloping  land  recedes  into  the  clouds  ; 
Displaying  on  ita  varied  side  the  grace 
Of  hedge-row  beauties  numberless,  square  tower. 
Tall  spire,  from  which  the  sound  of  cheerful  bells 
.lust  undulates  upon  tho  listening  ear. 
Groves,  heaths,  and  smoking  villages,  remote. 
Scenes  must  be  beautiful,  which  daily  viewed. 
Please  daily,  and  whose  novelty  survives 
Long  knowledge  and  the  scrutiny  of  years  : 
Praise  justly  due  to  those  that  I  describe. 

BCRAL  SOCSDS  i  MUSIC  OF  TUB  WINDS  ISO  WATERS  ;   lUI.LS  ; 

Nor  rural  sights  alono,  but  rural  sounds, 
Exhilarate  the  spirit,  and  restore 
Tho  tono  of  languid  nature.  —  Mighty  winds, 
That  sweep  tho  skirt  of  some  far-spreading  wood 
Of  ancient  growth,  make  music  not  unlike 


Tho  dash  of  ocean  on  his  winding  shore. 

And  lull  tho  spirit  while  they  fill  the  mind  ; 

Unnumbered  bronohes  waving  in  the  blast, 

.And  all  their  leaves  fast  fluttering,  all  at  once. 

Nor  less  eomposuro  waits  upon  the  roar 

Of  distant  flo()ds,  or  on  tho  softer  voice 

Of  neighboring  fountain,  or  of  rills  that  slip 

Through  the  cleft  rook,  and,  chiming  us  they  fall 

Upon  loose  pebbles,  lose  themselves  at  length 

In  matted  griu^s,  that  with  a  livelier  green 

Betrays  the  secret  of  their  silent  course. 

Jfatiiro  inanimate  employs  sweet  sounds, 

But  uniinated  nature  sweeter  still, 

Tu  soothe  and  satisfy  the  human  car. 

Ten  thousand  warblers  cheer  tho  day,  and  ono 

The  live-long  night :  nor  these  alinio,  whoso  notes 

Nico-lingoreil  art  must  emulate  in  vain. 

But  cawing  rooks,  and  kites  that  swim  sublime 

In  still  repeated  circles,  screaming  loud. 

The  jay,  the  pie,  and  e'en  the  boding  owl. 

That  hails  the  rising  moon,  have  charms  for  mc. 

Sounds  inharmonious  in  themselves,  and  harsh, 

Yet  heard  in  scenes  where  peace  forever  reigns. 

And  only  there,  please  highly  for  their  sake. 

THB  WGATHER-UOeSB  TOT. 

Peace  to  the  artist,  whoso  ingenious  thought 
Devised  the  weather-house,  that  useful  toy  ! 
Fearless  of  humid  air  and  gathering  rains. 
Forth  steps  the  man  —  an  emblem  of  myself ! 
More  delicate  his  timorous  mate  retires. 
When  winter  soaks  tho  fields,  and  female  feet, 
Too  weak  to  struggle  with  tenacious  clay. 
Or  ford  the  rivulets,  are  best  at  homo, 
Tho  task  of  new  discoveries  falls  on  me. 

THE  peasant's  NEST.  —  ADVANTA0E3    AND    INC0XVEXIEXCE3 
OF  SOUTl-DE. 

At  such  a  season,  and  with  such  a  charge, 
Once  went  I  forth  ;  and  found,  till  then  unknown, 
A  cottage,  whither  oft  we  since  repair  : 
•T  is  perched  upon  the  green  hill-top,  but  close 
Environed  with  a  ring  of  branching  elms. 
That  overhang  the  thatch,  itself  unseen 
Peeps  at  tho  vole  below  ;  so  thick  beset 
With  foliage  of  such  dark  redundant  growth, 
I  called  the  low-roofed  lodge  the  Peasant's  Nest. 
And  hidden  as  it  is,  and  far  remote 
From  such  unpleasing  sounds,  as  hai^nt  the  car 
In  village  or  in  town,  the  bay  of  curs 
Incessant,  clinking  hammers,  grinding  wheels. 
And  infants  clamorous,  whether  pleased  or  pained, 
Oft  have  I  wished  the  peaceful  covert  mine. 
Here,  I  have  said,  at  least  I  should  possess 
Tho  poet's  treasure,  silence,  and  indulge 
The  dreams  of  fancy,  tranquil  and  secure. 
Vain  thought !  tho  dweller  in  that  still  retreat 
Dearly  obtains  the  refuge  it  affords. 
Its  elevated  site  forbids  the  wretch 
To  drink  sweet  waters  of  tho  crystal  well  ; 
lie  dips  his  bowl  into  the  weedy  ditch. 
And,  heavy  laden,  brings  his  beverage  home. 


RURAL  POETRY. 


Far  fetched  and  little  worth  ;  nor  seldout  waits, 
Dependent  on  the  baker's  punctual  call, 
To  hear  his  LTc;ikiii;x  ii;iiiiiifrs  at  the  door, 
Angry  ;iiiii  -;mI,  nimI  In-  la-t  crust  consumed. 

If  solitiulu  make  st-aut  tlic  means  of  life, 
Society  for  me  !  —  thou  seeming  sweet, 
Be  still  a  pleasing  object  in  my  view  ; 
My  visit  still,  but  never  mine  abode. 


Not  distant  far,  a  length  of  colonnade 
Invites  us.     Monument  of  ancient  taste, 
Now  scorned,  but  worthy  of  a  better  fate. 
Our  fathers  knew  the  value  of  a  screen 
From  sultry  suns  :  and,  in  their  shaded  walks 
And  long-protracted  bowers,  enjoyed  at  noon 
The  gloom  and  coolness  of  declining  day. 
We  bear  our  shades  about  us  ;  self-deprived 
Of  other  screen,  the  thin  umbrella  spread, 
And  range  an  Indian  waste  without  a  tree. 
Thanks  to  Benevolus  ^  —  he  spares  me  yet 
These  chestnuts  ranged  in  corresponding  lines  ; 
And,  though  himself  so  polished,  still  reprieves 
The  obsulete  prolixity  of  shade. 

Descending  now  (but  cautious  lest  too  fast) 
A  sudden  steep,  upon  a  rustic  bridge 
We  pass  a  gulf,  in  which  the  willows  dip 
Their  pendent  boughs,  stooping  as  if  to  drink. 
Hence,  ankle  deep  in  moss  and  flowery  thyme, 
We  mount  again,  and  feel  at  every  step 
Our  foot  half  sunk  in  hillocks  green  and  soft, 
Raised  by  the  mole,  the  miner  of  the  soil. 
He,  not  unlike  the  great  ones  of  mankind, 
Disfigures  earth  :  and,  plotting  in  the  dark, 
Toils  much  to  earn  a  monumental  pile. 
That  may  record  the  mischiefs  he  has  done. 

THE   LOOK-OUT.  — CHEAP  IMMORTALITV. 

The  summit  gained,  behold  the  proud  alcove 
That  crowns  it !  yet  not  all  its  pride  secures 
The  grand  retreat  from  injuries  impressed 
By  rural  carvers,  who  with  knives  deface 
The  panels,  leaving  an  obscure,  rude  name, 
In  characters  uncouth,  and  spelled  amiss. 
So  strong  the  zeal  t'  immortalize  himself 
Beats  in  the  breast  of  man,  that  e'en  a  few. 
Few  transient  years,  won  from  the  abyss  abhorred 
Of  blank  oblivion,  seem  a  glorious  prize. 


And  I 


.  to  a  clown. 


Nowi 


1  the 


And  posted  on  this  speculative  height, 
Exults  in  its  command.     The  sheepfold  here 
Pours  out  its  fleecy  tenants  o'er  the  glebe. 
At  first,  progressive  as  a  stream,  they  seek 


The  middle  field  ;  but,  scattered  by  degrees. 
Each  to  his  choice,  soon  whiten  all  the  land. 
There  from  the  sunburnt  hay-field  homeward  creeps 
The  loaded  wain  ;  while,  lightened  of  its  charge, 
The  wain  that  meets  it  passes  swiftly  by  : 
The  boorish  driver  leaning  o'er  his  team 
Vociferous,  and  impatient  of  delay. 
Nor  less  attractive  is  the  woodland  scene, 
Diversified  with  trees  of  every  growth, 
Alike,  yet  various.     Here  the  gray  smooth  trunks 
Of  ash,  or  lime,  or  beech,  distinctly  shine, 
Within  the  twilight  of  their  distant  shades  ; 
There,  lost  behind  a  rising  ground,  the  wood 
Seems  sunk,  and  shortened  to  its  topmost  boughs. 


No  tree  in  all  the  grove  but  has  its  charms, 
Though  each  its  hue  peculiar  ;   paler  some, 
And  of  a  wannish  gray  ;  the  willow  such, 
And  poplar,  that  with  silver  lines  his  leaf. 
And  ash  far-stretching  his  umbrageous  arm  ; 
Of  deeper  green  the  elm  ;  and  deeper  still. 
Lord  of  the  woods,  the  long-surviving  oak. 
Some  glossy-leaved,  and  shining  in  the  sun, 
The  maple,  and  the  beech  of  oily  nuts 
Prolific,  and  the  lime  at  dewy  eve 
Diff"using  odors  ;  nor  unnoted  pass 
The  sycamore,  capricious  in  attire, 
Now  green,  now  tawny,  and,  ere  autumn  yet 
Have  changed  the  woods,  in  scarlet  honors  bright. 

O'er  these,  but  far  beyond  (a  spacious  map 
Of  hill  and  valley  interposed  between), 
The  Ouse,  dividing  the  well-watered  land, 
Now  glitters  in  the  sun,  and  now  retires, 
As  bashful,  yet  impatient  to  be  seen. 

Hence  the  declivity  is  sharp  and  short, 
And  such  the  reascent  ;  between  them  weeps 
A  little  Naiad  her  impoverished  urn 
All  summer  long,  which  winter  fills  again. 

THE  THROCKMORTON   ESTATE.  —  AVENUES  OF   TREES. 

The  folded  gates  would  bar  my  progress  now, 
But  that  the  lord  ^  of  this  enclosed  demesne. 
Communicative  of  the  good  he  owns, 
Admits  me  to  a  share  ;  the  guiltless  eye 
Commits  no  wrong,  nor  wastes  what  it  enjoys. 
Refreshing  change  !  where  now  the  blazing  sua  ? 
By  short  transition  we  have  lost  his  glare, 
And  stepped  at  once  into  a  cooler  clime. 
Yet,  fallen  avenues  !  once  more  I  mourn 
Your  fate  unmerited,  once  more  rejoice 
That  yet  a  remnant  of  your  race  survives. 
How  airy  and  how  light  the  graceful  arch, 
Yet  awful  as  the  consecrated  roof 
Reechoing  pious  anthems  !  while  beneath 
The  checkered  earth  seems  restless  as  a  flood 
Brushed  by  the  wind.     So  sportive  is  the  light 
1  See  the  foregoing  note. 


SUMMER  —  AUGUST. 


Shot  through  tho  boughs,  it  dnnccs  as  they  danoo. 
Shadow  and  sunshine  intermingling  quick, 
And  darkening  and  enlightening,  as  the  leaves 
Play  wanton,  every  moment,  every  spot,    [ehecrcd, 
And  now,   with    nerves   ncw-braeed   and  spirits 
We  tread  tho  wilderness,  whoso  well-rolled  walks, 
With  curvature  of  slow  and  easy  sweep  — 
Deception  innocent  — give  ample  space 
To  narrow  bounds. 


Tho  grove  receives  us  next  ; 
Between  tho  upright  shnfta  of  whose  tall  elms 
We  may  discern  the  thresher  at  his  task. 
Thump  after  thump  resounds  tho  constant  flail, 
That  .wems  to  swing  uncertain,  and  yet  falls 
Full  on  tho  destined  ear.     Wide  flies  tho  chaff, 
The  rustling  straw  sends  up  a  frequent  mist 
Of  atoms,  sparkling  in  tho  noonday  beam. 
Come  hither,  ye  that  press  your  beds  of  down. 
And  sleep  ...it";   s,e  liii,,  .w.;i(iM-  uVr  his  bread 
Before  hi' .Mt-  it—  Ti-  il,.>  yvun.d  ,-nrse, 

ButSnltlMliM    iht-   111.  ivy   ■,     I.Khi..-   Ihr  ].lcdgO 

Of  cheerful  d:iys,  and  iii-lits  williuut  a  groan. 


By  ceaseless  action  all  that  is  subsists. 
Constant  rotation  of  tho  unwearied  wheel, 
That  nature  rides  upon,  maintains  her  health. 
Her  beauty,  her  fertility.     She  dreads 
An  instant's  pause,  and  lives  but  while  she  moves. 
Its  own  revolvenoy  upholds  the  world. 
Winds  from  all  quarters  agitate  the  air, 
And  fit  the  limpid  element  for  use, 
Else  noxious  :  oceans,  rivers,  lakes,  and  streams. 
All  feel  the  freshening  impulse,  and  are  cleansed 
By  restless  undulation  :  e'en  the  oak 
Thrives  by  tho  rude  concussion  of  the  storm  : 
He  seems  indeed  indignant,  and  to  feel 
Tho  impression  of  tho  blast  with  proud  disdain. 
Frowning,  as  if  in  his  unconscious  arm 
Ho  held  the  thunder  :  but  the  monarch  owes 
His  firm  stability  to  what  he  scorns. 
More  fixed  below,  the  more  disturbed  above. 

TOIL  A  BLESSISG.  —  HEALTU.  —  nEALTIIY  OLD  AOE.  —  EASl 

The  law,  by  which  all  creatures  else  are  bound, 
Binds  man,  the  lord  of  all.     Himself  derives 
No  mean  advantage  from  a  kindred  cause, 
From  strenuous  toil  his  hours  of  sweetest  ease. 
The  sedentary  stretch  their  lazy  length 
When  custom  bids,  but  no  refreshment  find. 
For  none  they  need  :  the  languid  eye,  tho  cheek 
Deserted  of  its  bloom,  tho  flaccid,  shrunk. 
And  withered  muscle,  and  tho  vapid  soul, 
Reproach  their  owner  with  that  love  of  rest, 
To  which  he  forfeits  e'en  the  rest  ho  loves. 
Not  such  tho  alert  and  active.     Measure  life 
By  its  true  worth,  the  comforts  it  affords. 
And  theirs  alone  seems  worthy  of  the  name. 
Good  health,  and,  its  a-ssociate  in  the  most. 


Good  temper  ;  spirits  prompt  to  undertake. 
And  not  soon  spent,  though  in  an  arduous  task  ; 
The  powers  of  fancy  and  strong  thought  are  theirs  ; 
E'en  age  itself  seems  privileged  in  them. 
With  clear  exemption  from  its  own  defects. 
A  sparkling  eye  beneath  a  wrinkled  front 
The  veteran  shows,  and,  gracing  a  gray  beard 
With  youthful  smiles,  descends  towards  tho  grave 
Sprightly,  and  old  almost  without  decay. 

Like  a  coy  maiden,  case,  when  courted  most. 
Furthest  retires  —  an  idol,  at  whose  shrino 
Who  oftenest  sacrifice  arc  favored  least. 

SCPERIOniTY  OF   NATCRB  TO  AaT. 

The  lovo  of  Nature,  and  the  scones  she  draws. 
Is  Nature's  dictate.    Strnngc!  there  should  be  found, 

Willi.  :,-If-;T-|-ii.i-i -"ii.-'l  in  thrir  Jiroud  Sttloons, 


M 


Willi.  -.ii;-im.i  nitl l\  iiriii'illfd  scenes. 

Prefer  til  the  perfurnianee  of  a  (iod 

The  inferior  wonders  of  an  artist's  hand  ! 

Lovely  indeed  tho  mimio  works  of  Art ; 

But  Nature's  works  far  lovelier.     1  admire. 

None  more  admires,  the  painter's  magic  skill. 

Who  shows  me  that  which  I  shall  never  see. 

Conveys  a  distant  country  into  mine. 

And  throws  Italian  light  on  English  walls  : 

But  imitative  strokes  can  do  no  more 

Than  please  the  eye  — sweet  Nature's  every  sense. 

The  air  salul.ri.iu,  -.f  li.r  l..lly  liill.s 

The  cheering  liM-mi I  In  i  iliwy  vales, 

And  music  <if  li.  i  u I-   -  n-  unrks  of  man 

May  rival  these  ;   lli.-iull  luspeak  a  power 
Peculiar,  and  exclusively  her  own. 
Beneath  the  open  sky  she  spreads  the  feast  ; 
'T  is  free  to  all  —  't  is  every  day  renewed  ; 
Who  scorns  it  starves  deservedly  at  home. 


EMJOYMF.ST   Of   SATPRE   BY 

COSVJLESCF.ST  ;   BY  THE  MABISER  CRAZED  WITH  TBB  LONG 
IXa    FOR    LAND  SCESEBY. 

He  does  not  scorn  it,  who,  imprisoned  long 
In  some  unwholesome  dungeon,  and  a  prey 
To  sallow  sickness,  which  the  vapors,  dank 
And  clammy,  of  his  dark  abode  have  bred. 
Escapes  at  last  to  liberty  and  light : 
His  cheek  recovers  soon  its  healthful  hue  ; 
His  eye  relumines  its  extinguished  fires  ; 
He  walks,  ho  leaps,  he  runs  — is  winged  with  joy. 
And  riots  in  tho  sweets  of  every  breeze. 
He  does  not  scorn  it,  who  has  long  endured 
A  fever's  agonies,  and  fed  on  drugs  ; 
Nor  vet  the  mariner,  his  blood  inflamed 
With  acrid  salts  :  his  very  heart  athirst. 
To  gaze  at  nature  in  her  green  array. 
Upon  the  ship's  tall  side  ho  stands,  possessed 
M'ith  visions  prompted  by  intense  desire  : 
Fair  fields  appear  below,  such  as  ho  left 
Far  distant,  such  as  he  would  die  to  find  ;  — 
He  seeks  them  headlong,  and  is  seen  no  more. 


32 


250 


RURAL    POETRY. COWPER. 


The  spleen  is  seldom  felt  where  Flora  reigns  ; 
The  lowering  eye,  the  petulance,  the  frown, 
And  sullen  sadness,  that  o'ershade,  distort, 
And  mar,  the  face  of  beauty,  when  no  cause 
For  such  immeasurable  woe  appears,  — 
These  Flora  banishes,  and  gives  the  fair 
Sweet  smiles,  and  bloom  less  transient  than  her  o 
It  is  the  constant  revolution,  stale 
And  tasteless,  of  the  same  repeated  joys. 
That  palls  and  satiates,  and  makes  languid  life 
A  pedler's  pack,  that  bows  the  bearer  down. 
Health  suffers,  and  the  spirits  ebb  ;   the  heart 
Recoils  from  its  own  choice  —  at  the  full  feast 
Is  famished  —  finds  no  music  in  the  song, 
No  smartness  in  the  jest ;  and  wonders  why. 


Yet  thousands  still  desire  to  journey  on. 
Though  halt,  and  weary  of  the  path  they  tread. 
The  paralytic,  who  can  hold  her  cards. 
But  cannot  play  them,  borrows  a  friend's  hand 
To  deal  and  shuffle,  to  divide  and  sort 
Her  mingled  suits  and  sequences  ;  and  sits, 
Spectatress  both  and  spectacle,  a  sad 
And  silent  cipher,  while  her  proxy  plays. 
Others  are  dragged  into  the  crowded  room 
Between  supporters  ;   and,  once  seated,  sit, 
Through  downright  inability  to  rise. 
Till  the  stout  bearers  lift  the  corpse  again. 
These  speak  a  loud  memento.     Yet  even  these 
Themselves  love  life,  and  cling  to  it,  as  he 
That  overhangs  a  torrent  to  a  twig. 
They  love  it,  and  yet  loathe  it ;  fear  to  die. 
Yet  scorn  the  purposes  for  which  they  live. 
Then  wherefore  not  renounce  them  !    No  —  the  dread. 
The  slavish  dread  of  solitude,  that  breeds 
Reflection  and  remorse,  the  fear  of  shame. 
And  their  inveterate  habits,  all  forbid. 


Whom  call  we  gay  ?     That  honor  has  been  long 
The  boast  of  mere  pretenders  to  the  name. 
The  innocent  are  gay  —  the  lark  is  gay, 
That  dries  his  feathers,  saturate  with  dew, 
Beneath  the  rosy  cloud,  while  yet  the  beams 
Of  day-spring  overshoot  his  humble  nest. 
The  peasant  too,  a  witness  of  his  song. 
Himself  a  songster,  is  as  gay  as  he. 
But  save  me  from  the  gayety  of  those, 
Wliosc  hciidrichcs  nail  them  to  a  noonday  bed  ; 
And  >;ivi-  iiic  too  from  theirs,  whose  haggard  eyes 
Fhi-li  di-,-pri;ition,  and  betray  their  pangs 
For  property  stripped  off  by  cruel  chance  ; 
From  gayety,  that  fills  the  bones  with  ^ain. 
The  mouth  with  blasphemy,  the  heart  with  woe. 


NATURE'S  ViBIETr  ADAPTED  TO   MAN'S   LOVE  OP   CHANGE. 
THE  SEA-CLIFF  )   THE   QUIKT,   INLAND    VALE. 

The  earth  was  made  so  various,  that  the  mind 
Of  desultory  man,  studious  of  change. 
And  pleased  with  novelty,  might  be  indulged. 
Prospects,  however  lovely,  may  be  seen 
Till  half  their  beauties  fade  ;  the  weary  sight. 
Too  well  acquainted  with  their  smiles,  slides  off 
Fastidious,  seeking  less  familiar  scenes. 
Then  snug  enclosures  in  the  sheltered  vale, 
Where  frequent  hedges  intercept  the  eye. 
Delight  us  ;  happy  to  renounce  a  while. 
Not  senseless  of  its  charms,  what  still  we  love, 
That  such  short  absence  may  endear  it  more. 
Then  forests,  or  the  savage  rock,  may  please, 
That  hides  the  sea-mew  in  his  hollow  clefts 
Above  the  reach  of  man.     His  hoary  head. 
Conspicuous  many  a  league,  the  mariner 
Bound  homeward,  and  in  hope  already  there. 
Greets  with  three  cheers  exulting.     At  his  waist 
A  girdle  of  half-withered  shrubs  he  shows. 
And  at  his  feet  the  baffled  billows  die. 
The  common,  overgrown  with  fern,  and  rough 
With  prickly  gorse,  that  shapeless  and  deformed. 
And  dangerous  to  the  touch,  has  yet  its  bloom. 
And  decks  itself  with  ornaments  of  gold. 
Yields  no  unpleasing  ramble  ;  there  the  turf 
Smells  fresh,  and  rich  in  odoriferous  herbs 
And  fungous  fruits  of  earth,  regales  the  sense 
With  luxury  of  unexpected  sweets. 


There  often  wanders  one,  whom  better  days 
Saw  better  clad,  in  cloak  of  satin  trimmed 
With  lace,  and  hat  with  splendid  riband  bound. 
A  serving  maid  was  she,  and  fell  in  love 
With  one  who  left  her,  went  to  sea,  and  died. 
Her  fancy  followed  him  through  foaming  waves 
To  distant  shores  ;  and  she  would  sit  and  weep 
At  what  a  sailor  suffers  ;  fancy  too, 
Delusive  most  where  warmest  wishes  are. 
Would  oft  anticipate  his  glad  return. 
And  dream  of  transports  she  was  not  to  know. 
She  heard  the  doleful  tidings  of  his  death  — 
And  never  smiled  again  !  and  now  she  roams 
The  dreary  waste  ;  there  spends  the  live-long  day. 
And  there,  unless  when  charity  forbids. 
The  live-long  night.     A  tattered  apron  hides. 
Worn  as  a  cloak,  and  hardly  hides,  a  gown 
More  tattered  still  ;  and  both  but  ill  conceal 
A  bosom  heaved  with  never-ceasing  sighs. 
She  begs  an  idle  pin  of  all  she  meets. 
And  hoards  them  in  her  sleeve  ;  but  needful  food. 
Though  pressed  with  hunger  oft,  or  eomelier  clothes, 
j  Though  pinched  with  cold,  asks  never.  —  Kate  is 
crazed. 

I  see  a  column  of  slow-rising  smoke 
O'ertop  the  lofty  wood  that  skirts  the  wild. 


SUMMER  —  AUGUST. 


251 


A  vagabond  and  useless  tribe  there  eat 
Their  miserable  meal.     A  kettle,  slung 
Betveen  two  poles  upon  a  stick  transverse, 
Receives  the  morsel  —  flesh  obscene  of  dog. 
Or  vermin,  or  at  best  of  cock  purloined 
From  his  aceustomcd  perch.     Hard  faring  race  ! 
They  pick  their  fuel  out  of  every  hedge,  [quenched 
Which,  kindled   with   dry  leaves,  just  saves   un- 
Tho  spark  of  life.     The  sportive  wind  blows  wide 
Their  fluttering  rags,  and  shows  a  tawny  skin, 
The  vellum  of  the  pedigree  they  claim. 


Great  skill  have  they  in  palmistry,  and  more 
To  conjure  clean  away  the  gold  they  touch. 
Conveying  worthless  dross  into  its  place  ; 
Loud  when  they  beg,  dumb  only  when  they  steal. 
Strange  !  that  a  creature  rational,  and  cast 
In  human  mould,  should  brutalize  by  choice 
His  nature  ;  and,  though  copable  of  ort«. 
By  which  the  world  might  profit,  and  himself, 
Self-banished  from  society,  prefer 
Such  squalid  sloth  to  honorable  toil ! 
Yet  even  these,  though  feigning  sickness  oft 
They  swathe  the  forehead,  drag  the  limping  limb, 
And  vex  their  flesh  with  artificial  sores, 
Can  change  their  whine  into  a  mirthful  note, 
When  safe  occasion  oficrs  ;  and  with  dance, 
And  music  of  tho  bladder  and  the  bag, 
Beguile  their  woes,  and  make  tho  woods  resound. 
Such  health  and  gayety  of  heart  enjoy 
The  houseless  rovers  of  the  sylvan  world  ; 
And,  breathing  wholesome  air,  and  wandering  much, 
Need  other  physio  none  to  heal  th'  effects 
Of  loathsome  diet,  penury,  and  cold. 

ADVASTAOES    OP    CIVILIZATION    OVBR    BABBARIS.M. —  THE 


Blest  he,  though  undistinguished  from  the  crowd 
By  wealth  or  dignity,  who  dwells  secure, 
Where  man,  by  nature  fierce,  has  laid  aside 
His   fierceness ;    having   learned,    though   slow   to 
The  manners  and  tho  arts  of  civil  life.  [learn, 

His  wants  indeed  are  many  ;  but  supply 
Is  obvious,  placed  within  the  easy  reach 
Of  temperate  wishes  and  industrious  hands. 
Here  virtue  thrives  as  in  her  proper  soil  ; 
Not  rude  and  surly,  and  beset  with  thorns. 
And  terrible  to  sight,  as  when  she  springs 
(If  o'er  she  spring  spontaneous),  in  remote 
And  barbarous  climes,  where  violence  prevails, 
And  strength  is  lord  of  all  ;  but  gentle,  kind. 
By  culture  tamed,  by  liberty  refreshed. 
And  all  her  fruits  by  radiant  truth  matured. 
War  and  the  chase  engross  the  savage  whole  ; 
War  followed  for  revenge,  or  to  supplant 
Tho  envied  tenants  of  some  happier  spot  : 
Tlie  chose  for  sustenance,  precarious  trust ! 
His  hard  condition  with  severe  constraint 
Binds  all  his  faculties,  forbids  all  growth 
Of  wisdom,  proves  a  school,  in  which  he  learns 


Sly  oiroumvcntion,  unrelenting  hate. 

Mean  self-attachment,  and  scarce  aught  beside. 

Thus  faro  the  shivering  natives  of  the  north. 

And  thus  the  rangers  of  tho  western  world. 

Whore  it  ailvances  far  into  the  deep, 

Towards  th'  Antarctic.     Even  the  favored  isles 

So  lately  found,  althfmgh  the  constant  sun 

Cheer  all  their  seasons  with  a  grateful  smile. 

Can  boast  but  little  virtue  ;  and  inert 

Through  plenty,  lose  in  morals  what  they  gain 

In  manners  —  victims  of  luxurious  ease. 

These  therefore  I  can  pity,  placed  remote 

From  all  that  science  traces,  art  invents. 

Or  inspiration  teaches  ;  and  enclosed 

In  boundless  oceans,  never  to  be  passed 

By  navigators  uninformed  as  they, 

Or  ploughed  perhaps  by  British  bark  again. 


But  far  beyond  tho  rest,  and  with  most  cause. 
Thee,  gentle  savage, '  whom  no  love  of  thee 
Or  thine,  but  curiosity  perhaps, 
Or  else  vain  glory,  prompted  us  to  draw 
Forth  from  thy  native  bowers,  to  show  thee  here 
AVith  what  superior  skill  we  can  abuse 
The  gifts  of  Providence,  and  squander  life. 
The  dream  is  past,  and  thou  hast  found  again 
Thy  cocoas  and  bananas,  palms  and  yams,      [found 
And  homcstall  thatched  with  leaves.  But  hast  thou 
Their  former  charms  ?     And  having  seen  our  state, 
Our  palaces,  our  ladies,  and  our  pomp 
Of  equipage,  our  gardens,  and  our  sports. 
And  heard  our  music  ;  are  thy  simple  friends. 
Thy  simple  fare,  and  all  thy  plain  delights. 
As  dear  to  thee  as  once  ?     And  have  thy  joys 
Lost  nothing  by  comparison  with  ours  ? 
Rude  as  thou  art  —  for  we  returned  thee  rude 
And  ignorant,  except  of  outward  show,  — 
I  cannot  think  thee  yet  so  dull  of  heart 
And  spiritless,  as  never  to  regret 
Sweets  tasted  here,  and  loft  as  soon  as  known. 
Methinks  I  see  thee  straying  on  the  beach, 
And  asking  of  tho  surge  that  bathes  thy  foot 
If  ever  it  has  washed  our  distant  shore. 


I  see  thee  weep,  and  thine  are  honest  tears, 
A  patriot's  for  his  country  ;  thou  art  sad 
At  thought  of  her  forlorn  and  abject  state. 
From  which  no  power  of  thine  can  raise  her  up. 
Thus  fancy  paints  thee,  and  though  apt  to  err. 
Perhaps  errs  little  when  she  paints  thee  thus. 
She  tells  me,  too,  that  duly  every  morn 
Thou  elimbest  the  mountain  top,  with  eager  oyo 
Exploring  far  and  wide  the  watery  waste, 
For  sight  of  ship  from  England.    Every  speck 
Seen  in  the  dim  horizon  turns  thee  pale 
With  oonfiiot  of  contending  hopes  and  fears. 


252 


RURAL   POETRY. COWPER. 


But  comes  at  last  the  dull  and  dusky  eve, 
And  sends  thee  to  thy  cabin,  well  prepared 
To  dream  all  night  of  what  the  day  denied. 
Alas  !  expect  it  not.     We  found  no  bait 
To  tempt  us  in  thy  country.     Doing  good. 
Disinterested  good,  is  not  our  trade. 
We  travel  far,  't  is  true,  but  not  for  naught  ; 
And  must  be  bribed  to  compass  earth  again 
By  other  hopes  and  richer  fruits  than  yours. 

CITIES. —  TireiR  DISADVANTAGES   A3  TO   VIBTCE.  —  LUXURY 

But  though  true  worth  and  virtue  in  the  mild 
And  genial  soil  of  cultivated  life 
Thrive  most,  and  may  perhaps  thrive  only  there. 
Yet  not  in  cities  oft :  in  proud  and  gay. 
And  gain-devoted  cities.     Thither  flow. 
As  to  a  common  and  most  noisome  sower. 
The  dregs  and  feculence  of  every  land. 
In  cities  foul  example  on  most  minds 
Begets  its  likeness.     Rank  abundance  breeds, 
In  gross  and  pampered  cities,  sloth,  and  lust. 
And  wantonness,  and  gluttonous  excess  ; 
In  cities  vice  is  hidden  with  most  ease. 
Or  seen  with  least  reproach  ;  and  virtue,  taught 
By  frequent  lapse,  can  hope  no  triumph  there 
Beyond  th'  achievement  of  successful  flight. 


I  do  confess  them  nurseries  of  the  arts. 
In  which  they  flourish  most  ;  where,  in  the  beams 
Of  warm  encouragement,  and  in  the  eye 
Of  public  note,  they  reach  their  perfect  size. 
Such  London  is,  by  taste  and  wealth  proclaimed 
The  fairest  capital  of  all  the  world,  — 
By  riot  and  incontinence  the  worst. 
There,  touched  by  Reynolds,  a  dull  blank  becomes 
A  lucid  mirror,  in  which  nature  sees 
All  her  reflected  features.     Bacon  there 
Gives  more  than  female  beauty  to  a  stone, 
And  Chatham's  eloquence  to  marble  lips. 
Nor  does  the  chisel  occupy  alone 
The  powers  of  sculpture,  but  the  style  as  much  ; 
Each  province  of  her  art  her  equal  care. 
With  nice  incision  of  her  guided  steel 
She  ploughs  a  brazen  field,  and  clothes  a  soil 
So  sterile  with  what  charms  soe'er  she  wills. 
The  richest  scenery  and  the  loveliest  forms. 

Where  finds  philosophy  her  eagle  eye, 
With  which  she  gazes  at  yon  burning  disk 
Undaizled,  and  detects  and  counts  his  spots  ? 
In  London.     Where  her  implements  exact. 
With  which  she  calculates,  computes,  and  scans, 
All  distance,  motion,  magnitude,  and  now 
Measures  an  atom,  and  now  girds  a  world  ? 
In  London.     Where  has  commerce  such  a  mart. 
So  rich,  BO  thronged,  so  (Jrained,  and  so  supplied. 
As  London  —  opulent,  enlarged,  ;ind  still 


Increasing  London  ?     Babylon  of  old 
Not  more  the  glory  of  the  earth  than  she, 
A  more  accomplished  world's  chief  glory  now. 


She  has  her  praise.     Now  mark  a  spot  or  two. 
That  so  much  beauty  would  do  well  to  purge  ; 
And  show  this  queen  of  cities,  that  so  fair 
May  yet  be  foul  ;  so  witty,  yet  not  wise. 
It  is  not  seemly,  nor  of  good  report, 
That  she  is  slack  in  discipline  ;  more  prompt 
T"  avenge  than  to  prevent  the  breach  of  law  : 
That  she  is  rigid  in  denouncing  death 
On  petty  robbers,  and  indulges  life 
And  liberty,  and  ofttimes  honor  too. 
To  peculators  of  the  public  gold  ; 
That  thieves  at  home  must  hang  ;  but  he  that  puts 
Into  his  overgorged  and  bloated  purse 
The  wealth  of  Indian  provinces  escapes. 
Nor  is  it  well,  nor  can  it  come  to  good. 
That,  through  profane  and  infidel  contempt 
Of  Uoly  Writ,  she  has  presumed  t'  annul 
And  abrogate,  as  roundly  as  she  may. 
The  total  ordinance  and  will  of  God  ; 
Advancing  fashion  to  the  post  of  truth. 
And  cent'ring  all  authority  in  modes 
And  customs  of  her  own,  till  Sabbath  rites 
Have  dwindled  into  unrespected  forms, 
And  knees  and  hassocks  are  well-nigh  divorced. 


PLE  DESIRES   AND   JOTS  OF  THE  COUNTRY.  —  FOREBODINGS. 

God  made  the  country,  and  man  made  the  town. 
What  wonder,  then,  that  health  and  virtue,  gifts 
That  can  alone  make  sweet  the  bitter  draught 
That  life  holds  out  to  all,  should  most  abound 
And  least  be  threatened  in  the  fields  and  groves  ? 
Possess  ye,  therefore,  ye  who,  borne  about 
In  chariots  and  sedans,  know  no  fatigue 
But  that'  of  idleness,  and  taste  no  scenes 
But  such  as  art  contrives,  possess  ye  still 
Your  element ;  there  only  can  ye  shine  ; 
There  only  minds  like  yours  can  do  no  harm. 
Our  groves  were  planted  to  console  at  noon 
The  pensive  wanderer  in  their  shades.    .At  eve 
The  moonbeam,  sliding  softly  in  between 
The  sleeping  leaves,  is  all  the  light  they  wish. 
Birds  warbling  all  the  music.     We  can  spare 
The  splendor  of  your  lamps  :  they  but  eclipse 
Our  softer  satellite.     Your  songs  confound 
Our  more  harmonious  notes  :  the  thrush  departs 
Scared,  and  th'  offended  nightingale  is  mute. 
There  is  a  public  mischief  in  your  mirth  ; 
It  plagues  your  country.     Folly  such  as  yours, 
Graced  with  a  sword,  and  worthier  of  a  fan. 
Has  made,  what  enemies  could  ne'er  have  done. 
Our  arch  of  empire,  steadfast  but  for  you, 
A  mutilated  structure,  soon  to  fall. 


kistorals  for   Jiuiust. 


TIIEOCRITUS'S  "SINGERS  OF  P.\S- 
TORALS." 

AN    I  D  Y  I, . 

TRANSLATED    BY    CHAPMAN. 

DAPONIS  ;  MESALCAS  ;  A  GOATnEBD. 

Menalcas  met,  while  pasturing  his  sheep, 
The  cowherd  Daphnis  on  the  highland  steep  ; 
Both  yellow-trcsscd,  and  in  their  life's  fresh  spring, 
Both  skilled  to  play  the  pipe,  and  both  to  sing. 

Monalcos,  with  demeanor  fair  and  free, 
Spoke  first  :  '  Good  Daphnis,  will  you  sing  with  mo? 
I  can  out-sing  you,  whcnsoe'er  I  try. 
Just  as  I  please.'    Then  Daphnis  made  reply  : 


Shepherd  and  piper  !  that  may  never  be. 
Happen  what  will,  as  you  on  proof  will  see. 

MESALCAS. 

Ah,  will  you  see  it,  and  a  wager  make  ? 


I  will  to  see  this  and  to  pledge  a  stake. 


And  what  the  wager,  worthy  fame  like  ours  ? 


A  calf  my  pledge,  a  full-grown  lamb  be  yours. 


At  night  my  cross-grained  sire  and  mother  use 
To  count  the  sheep  —  that  pledge  I  must  refuse. 


MBSALCAS. 

I  '11  pledge  a  nine-toned  pipe,  that  even  lies 
In  the  joined  reeds,  with  whitest  wax  Inlaid, 
The  musical  sweet  pipe  I  lately  made  ; 
This  will  I  pledge  —  and  not  my  father's  things. 
DAPnsis. 

I  too  have  got  a  pipe  that  nine-toned  rings. 
Compact  with  white  wax,  even-jointed,  new,  — 
Made  by  myself :  a  split  reed  sudden  flew, 
And  gashed  this  finger  —  it  is  painful  still. 
But  who  shall  judge  which  has  the  better  skill  ? 


Suppose  wo  call  that  goatherd  hither  —  see  ! 
Yon  white  dog  at  his  kids  barks  lustily. 


He  came  when  called,  and  hearing  their  request. 
Was  willing  to  decide  which  sung  the  best. 
Clearly  their  rival  tones  responsive  rung. 
Each  in  his  turn,  but  first  Menaloas  sung. 


Ye  mountain-vales  and  rivers  !  race  divine  ! 

If  aught  Menalcas  ever  sung  was  sweet. 
Feed  ye  these  lambs  ;  and  feed  no  less  his  kine, 

When  Daphnis  drives  them  to  this  dear  retreat. 


Fountains  and  herbs,  growth  of  the  lively  year  ! 

If  Daphnis  sings  like  any  nightingale, 
Fatten  his  herd  ;  and  if  Menalcas  here 

Conduct  his  flock,  let  not  their  pasture  fail. 

MENALCAS. 

Pastures  and  spring,  and  milkful  udders  swelling, 
And  fatness  for  the  lambs,  is  everywhere 

At  her  approach  :  but  if  the  girl  excelling 

Departs,  both  herbs  and  shepherd  wither  there. 


The  sheep  and  goats  bear  twins  ;  the  bees  up-luy 
Full  honey-stores,  the  spreading  oaks  are  higher, 

When  Milto  walks  :  but  if  she  goes  away, 

The  cowherd  and  his  cows  themselves  are  dryer. 


Uxorious  ram  and  flat-nosed  kids,  away 
For  water,  to  that  wilderness  of  wood  : 

Then,  ram  without  a  horn  !  to  Milto  say 
Proteus,  a  god  too  !  fed  the  sea-calf  brood. 

DAPnSIS. 

Nor  Pelops'  realm  be  mine,  nor  piles  of  gold. 
Nor  speed  fleet  as  the  wind  ;  but  at  this  rook 

To  sing  and  clasp  my  darling,  and  behold 

The  seas  blue  reach,  and  many  a  pasturing  flock. 

MENALCAS. 

To  forest-beast  the  net,  to  bird  the  noose, 

Winter  to  trees,  and  drought  to  springs,  is  bad  ; 

To  man  the  sting  of  beauty.     Mighty  Zeus  I 
Not  only  I  —  thou  too  art  woman-mad. 
Their  sweet  notes  thus,  in  turn,  they  did  prolong, 

Menaloas  then  took  up  the  closing  song. 

MENALCAS. 

Sparc,  wolf !  my  sheep  and  lambs  ;  nor  injure  me 
Because  I  many  tend,  though  small  I  be. 
Sloepest,  Lampurus?  up  !  no  dog  should  sleep 
That  with  the  shepherd-boy  attends  his  sheep. 


254 


RURAL    POETRY. — THEOCRITUS - 


Be  not  to  crop  the  tender  herbage  slow, 
Feed  on,  my  sheep,  the  grass  again  will  grow, 
Fill  ye  your  udders  that  your  lambs  may  have 
Their  share  of  milk,  —  I  some  for  cheese  may  save. 

Then  Daphnis  nest  his  tones  preluding  rung, 
Gave  to  the  music  voice,  and  sweetly  sung. 


As  yesterday  I  drove  my  heifers  by, 
A  girl,  me  spying  from  a  cavern  nigh. 
Exclaimed,  '  How  handsome  ! '  I  my  way  pursued 
With  downcast  eyes,  nor  made  her  answer  rude. 
Sweet  is  the  breath  of  cows  and  calves — and  sweel 
To  bask  by  running  stream  in  summer  heat. 
Acorns  the  oak  ;  and  apples  on  the  bough 
Adorn  the  apple-tree  ;  her  calf  the  cow  ; 
His  drove  of  kine,  depasturing  the  field. 
His  proper  honor  to  the  cowherd  yield. 


Th' admiring  goatherd  then  his  judgment  spake  : 
'  Sweet  is  thy  mouth,  and  sweetest  tones  awake 
From  thy  lips,  Daphnis  !  I  would  rather  hear 
Thee  sing  than  suck  the  honey-comb,  I  swear. 
Take  thou  the  pipe,  for  thine  the  winning  song. 
If  thou  wilt  teach  me  here,  my  goats  among, 
Some  song,  I  will  that  hornless  goat  bestow, 
That  ever  fills  the  pail  to  overflow.' 

Glad  Daphnis  clapped  his  hands,  and  on  the  lawn 
He  leaped,  as  round  her  mother  leaps  the  fawn. 
But  sad  Monalcas  fed  a  smouldering  gloom. 
As  grieves  a  girl  betrothed  to  unknown  groom. 
And  first  in  song  was  Daphnis  from  that  time, 
And  wived  a  Naiad  in  his  blooming  prime. 


PARNELL'S  "HEALTH." 
AN    ECLOGUE. 

Now  early  shepherds  o'er  the  meadow  pass, 
And  print  long  footsteps  in  the  glittering  grass  ; 
The  cows  neglectful  of  their  pasture  stand, 
By  turns  obsequious  to  the  milker's  hand. 

When  Damon  softly  trod  the  shaven  lawn  ; 
Damon,  a  youth  from  city  cares  withdrawn  ; 
Long  was  the  pleasing  walk  he  wandered  through, 
A  covered  arbor  closed  the  distant  view  ;     [throng 
There  rests  the  youth,  and,  while  the   feathered 
Raise  their  wild  music,  thus  contrives  a  song. 

Here,  wafted  o*er  by  mild  etesian  air. 
Thou  country  goddess,  beauteous  health  !  repair, 
Here  let  my  breast  through  quivering  trees  inhale 
Thy  rosy  blessings  with  the  morning  gale. 
What  are  the  fields,  or  flowers,  or  all  I  see? 
Ah  !  tasteless  all,  if  not  enjoyed  with  thee. 

Joy  to  my  soul  !  I  feel  the  goddess  nigh, 
The  face  of  nature  cheers  as  well  as  I  ; 
O'er  the  flat  green  refreshing  breezes  run, 


The  smiling  daisies  blow  beneath  the  sun, 
The  brooks  run  purling  down  with  silver  waves, 
The  planted  lanes  rejoice  with  dancing  leaves  ; 
The  chirping  birds  from  all  the  compass  rove 
To  tempt  the  tuneful  echoes  of  the  grove  : 
High  sunny  summits,  deeply-shaded  dales, 
Thick  mossy  banks,  and  flowery  winding  vales, 
With  various  prospect  gratify  the  sight, 
And  scatter  fixed  attention  in  delight. 

Come,  country  goddess,  come,  nor  thou  suffice, 
But  bring  thy  mountain-sister,  Exercise. 
Called  by  thy  lovely  voice,  she  turns  her  pace, 
Her  winding  horn  proclaims  the  finished  chase  ; 
She  mounts  the  rocks,  she  skims  the  level  plain. 
Dogs,  hawks,  and  horses,  crowd  her  early  train  ; 
Her  hardy  face  repels  the  tanning  wind, 
And  lines  and  meshes  loosely  float  behind. 
All  these  as  means  of  toil  the  feeble  see, 
But  these  are  helps  to  pleasure  joined  with  thee. 

Let  sloth  lie  softening  till  high  noon  in  down. 
Or  lolling  fan  her  in  the  sultry  town, 
Unnerved  with  rest  ;   and  turn  her  own  disease. 
Or  foster  others  in  luxurious  case  : 
I  mount  the  courser,  call  the  deep-mouthed  hounds, 
The  fox  unkennelled  flies  to  covert  grounds  ; 
I  lead  where  stags  through  tangled  thickets  tread, 
And  shake  the  saplings  with  their  branching  head; 
I  make  the  falcons  wing  their  airy  way, 
And  soar  to  seize,  or  stooping  strike  their  prey  ; 
To  snare  the  fish,  I  fix  the  lurking  bait  ; 
To  wound  the  fowl,  I  load  the  gun  with  fate. 
'Tis  thus  through  change  of  exercise  I  range. 
And  strength  and  pleasure  rise  from  every  change. 

Here,  beauteous  Health  !  for  all  the  year  remain  ; 

When  the  next  comes,  I  HI  charm  thee  thus  again. 

0,  come,  thou  Goddess  of  my  rural  song  ! 
And  bring  thy  daughter,  calm  Content,  along  ; 
Dame  of  the  ruddy  cheek  and  laughing  eye, 
From  whose  bright  presence  clouds  of  sorrow  fly  : 
For  her  I  mow  my  walks,  I  plat  my  bowers, 
Clip  my  low  hedges,  and  support  my  flowers  ; 
To  welcome  her,  this  summer-seat  I  drest. 
And  here  I  court  her  when  she  comes  to  rest  ; 
When  she  from  exercise  to  learned  ease 
Shall  change  again,  and  teach  the  change  to  please. 

Now  friends  conversing  my  soft  hours  refine. 
And  Tally's  Tusculum  revives  in  mine  : 
Now  to  grave  books  I  bid  the  mind  retreat, 
And  such  as  make  me  rather  good  than  great  ; 
Or,  o'er  the  works  of  easy  fancy  rove. 
Where  flutes  and  innocence  amuse  the  grove  : 
The  native  bard,  that  on  Sicilian  plains 
First  sung  the  lowly  manners  of  the  swains  ; 
Or,  Maro*s  muse,  that  in  the  fairest  light 
Paints  rural  prospects  and  the  charms  of  sight  ; 
These  soft  amusements  bring  content  along, 
And  fancy,  void  of  sorrow,  turns  to  song. 

Here,  beauteous  Health  !  for  all  the  year  remain  ; 

When  the  next  comes,  I  '11  charm  thee  thus  again. 


(Lv;ibbr'.s    "Dillaqf.' 


istanls.  Ruilo 
tVects  of  a  lliRh 
i;*itlei*«!  J  evils 
;  his  anltloquy. 
The  sick  poor. 
Tlie  village 


THE  SOBJECr  STITED  •,    POVERTY  iS  IT  IS. 

Tbe  village  life,  and  every  caro  that  reigns 
O'er  youthful  peasants  and  declining  swains  ; 
What  labor  yields,  and  what,  that  labor  past, 
Age,  in  its  hour  of  languor,  finds  at  last  ; 
What  form  the  real  picture  of  the  poor. 
Demand  a  song  —  the  Muse  can  give  no  more. 


Fled  are  those  times,  when,  in  harmonious  strains, 
The  rustic  poet  praised  his  native  plains  ; 
No  shepherds  now,  in  smooth  alternate  verse, 
Their  country's  beauty  or  their  nymphs'  rehearse  ; 
Yet  still  for  these  wo  frame  the  tender  strain, 
Still  in  our  lays  fond  Corydons  complain. 
And  shepherds'  boys  their  amorous  pains  reveal. 
The  only  pains,  alas  !  they  never  feel. 

On  Minoio's  banks,  in  Csesar's  bounteous  reign, 
If  Tityrus  found  the  golden  age  again. 
Must  sleepy  bards  the  flattering  dream  prolong, 
Mechanic  echoes  of  the  Mantuan  song  ? 
From  truth  and  nature  shall  we  widely  stray. 
Where  Virgil,  not  where  fancy,  leads  the  way  7 

Yes,  thus  the  iMuses  sing  of  happy  swains, 
Because  the  JIuscs  never  knew  their  pains  : 
They  boast  their  peasants'  pipes,  but  peasants  now 
Resign  their  pipes,  and  plod  behind  the  plough  ; 
And  few  amid  the  rural  tribe  have  time 
To  number  syllables  and  play  with  rhyme  ; 
Save  honest  Buck,  what  son  of  verse  could  share 
The  poet's  rapture  and  tbe  peasant's  caro  t 
Or  the  great  labors  of  the  field  degrade, 
With  the  new  peril  of  a  poorer  trade  ? 

From  this  chief  cause  these  idle  praises  spring, 
That  themes  so  easy  few  forbear  to  sing  ; 
For  no  deep  thought  the  trifling  subjects  ask. 
To  sing  of  shepherds  is  an  easy  task  ; 
The  happy  youth  assumes  the  common  strain, 
A  nymph  his  mistress  and  himself  a  swain  ; 
With  no  sad  scenes  he  clouds  bis  tuneful  prayer, 
Bat  all,  to  look  like  her,  is  painted  fair. 


I  grant  indeed  that  fields  and  flocks  have  charms. 
For  him  that  gazes  or  for  him  that  farms  j 
But  when  amid  such  pleasing  scenes  1  trace 
The  poor,  laborious  natives  of  the  place. 
And  see  the  midday  sun,  with  fervid  ray, 
On  their  bare  heads  and  dewy  temples  play  ; 
While  some,  with  feebler  hands  and  fainter  hearts. 
Deplore  their  fortune,  yet  sustain  their  parts,  — 
Then  shall  I  dare  these  real  ills  to  hide, 
In  tinsel  trappings  of  poetic  pride  ? 

No  ;  cast  by  fortune  on  a  frowning  coast. 
Which  neither  groves  nor  happy  valleys  boast ; 
Where  other  cares  than  those  the  muse  relates. 
And  other  shepherds  dwell  with  other  mates  j 
By  such  examples  taught,  I  paint  the  cot. 
As  truth  will  paint  it,  and  as  bards  will  not : 
Nor  you,  ye  poor,  of  lettered  scorn  complain. 
To  you  the  smoothest  song  is  smooth  in  vain  ; 
O'orcome  by  labor  and  bowed  down  by  time. 
Feel  you  the  barren  flattery  of  a  rhyme  ? 
Can  poets  soothe  you,  when  you  pine  for  bread, 
By  winding  myrtles  round  your  ruined  shed  ? 
Can  their  light  tales  your  weighty  griefs  o'erpower. 
Or  glad  with  airy  mirth  the  toilsome  hour  ? 


Lo!  where  the  heath,  with  withering  brake  grown 

Lends  the  light  turf  that  warms  the  neighboring 
From  thence  a  length  of  burning  sand  appears. 
Where  the  thin  harvest  waves  its  withered  ears  j 
Bank  weeds,  that  every  art  and  care  defy, 
Kcign  o'er  the  land,  and  rob  the  blighted  rye  : 
There  thistles  stretch  their  prickly  arms  afar, 
And  to  the  ragged  infant  threaten  war  ; 
There  poppies,  nodding,  mock  the  hope  of  toil. 
There  the  blue  bugloss  paints  the  sterile  soil  ; 
Hardy  and  high,  above  the  slender  sheaf. 
The  slimy  mallow  waves  her  silky  leaf ; 
O'er  the  young  shoot  the  charlock  throws  a  shade. 
And  clasping  tares  cling  round  the  sickly  blade  ; 
With  mingled  tints  the  rocky  coasts  abound, 
And  a  sad  splendor  vainly  shines  around. 

So  looks  the  nymph  whom  wretched  arts  adorn, 
Betrayed  by  man,  then  left  for  man  to  scorn  ; 
Whose  cheek  in  vain  assumes  the  mimic  rose. 
While  her  sod  eyes  the  troubled  breast  disclose  ; 


256 


RUKAL    POETRY. 


Whose  outward  splendor  is  but  folly's  dress, 
Exposing  most,  when  most  it  gilds  distress. 


Here  joyless  roam  a  wild,  amphibious  race. 
With  sullen  woe  displayed  in  every  face  ; 
Who  far  from  civil  arts  and  social  fly. 
And  scowl  at  strangers  with  suspicious  eye. 

Here  too  the  lawless  merchant  of  the  main 
Draws  from  his  plough  the  intoxicated  swain  ; ' 
Want  only  claimed  the  labor  of  the  day. 
But  vice  now  steals  his  nightly  rest  away. 

Where  are  the  swains,  who,  daily  labor  done, 
With  rural  games  played  down  the  setting  sun  ; 
Who  struck  with  matchless  force  the  bounding  ball. 
Or  made  the  ponderous  quoit  obliquely  fall  ; 
While  some  huge  Ajax,  terrible  and  strong, 
Engaged  some  artful  stripling  of  the  throng. 
And  fell  beneath  him,  foiled,  while  far  around 
Hoarse  triumph  rose,  and  rocks  returned  the  sound  ? 
Where  now  are  these  ?   Beneath  yon  cliff  they  stand. 
To  show  the  freighted  pinnace  where  to  land  ; 
To  load  the  ready  steed  with  guilty  haste. 
To  fly  in  terror  o'er  the  pathless  waste  ; 
Or  when  detected  in  their  straggling  course, 
To  foil  their  foes  by  cunning  or  by  force  : 
Or  yielding  part  (which  equal  knaves  demand) 
To  gain  a  lawless  passport  through  the  land. 


Here  wandering  long,  amid  these  frowning  fields, 
I  sought  the  simple  life  that  nature  yields  ; 
Rapine  and  wrong  and  fear  usurped  her  place. 
And  a  bold,  artful,  surly,  savage  race  ; 
Who,  only  skilled  to  take  the  finny  tribe, 
The  yearly  dinner,  or  septennial  bribe. 
Wait  on  the  shore,  and  as  the  waves  run  high. 
On  the  tossed  vessel  bend  their  eager  eye  ; 
Which  to  their  coast  directs  its  venturous  way. 
Theirs  or  the  ocean's  miserable  prey. 


As  on  the  neighboring  beach  yon  swallows  stand. 
And  wait  for  favoring  winds  to  leave  the  land  ; 
While  still  for  flight  the  ready  wing  is  spread  : 
So  waited  I  the  favoring  hour,  and  fled  ; 
Fled  from  these  shores  where  guilt  and  famine  reign. 
And  cried.  Ah  !  hapless  they  who  still  remain  ; 
Who  still  remain  to  hear  the  ocean  roar, 
Whose  greedy  waves  devour  the  lessening  shore  ; 
Till  some  fierce  tide,  with  more  imperious  sway, 
Sweeps  the  low  hut  and  all  it  holds  away  ; 
When  the  sad  tenant  weeps  from  door  to  door, 
And  begs  a  poor  protection  from  the  poor. 


But  yet  in  other  scenes  more  fair  in  view. 
Where  plenty  smiles  — alas  !  she  smiles  for  few  ; 
And  those  who  taste  not,  yet  behold  her  store. 
Are  as  the  slaves  that  dig  the  golden  ore, 
The  wealth  around'them  makes  them  doubly  poor. 

LABOR  ',   EXPOSDEES  OF   THE  LABOREK. 

Or  will  you  deem  them  amply  paid  in  health. 
Labor's  fair  chUd,  that  languishes  with  wealth  ? 
Go  then  !  and  see  them  rising  with  the  sun. 
Through  a  long  course  of  daily  toil  to  run  ; 
See  them  beneath  the  dog-star's  raging  heat. 
When  the  knees  tremble  and  the  temples  beat ; 
Behold  them,  leaning  on  their  scythes,  look  o'er 
The  labor  past,  and  toils  to  come  explore  ; 
See  them  alternate  suns  and  showers  engage, 
And  hoard  up  aches  and  anguish  for  their  age  ; 
Through  fens  and  marshy  moors  their  steps  pursue. 
When  their  warm  pores  imbibe  the  evening  dew  ; 
Then  own  that  labor  may  as  fatal  be 
To  these  thy  slaves,  as  thine  excess  to  thee. 


But  these  aro  scenes  where  Nature's  niggard  hand 
Gave  a  spare  portion  to  the  famished  land  ; 
Hers  is  the  fault,  if  here  mankind  complain 
Of  fruitless  toil,  and  labor  spent  in  vain  ; 


)RER  ;   mS   MANLY  PHmE. 

Amid  this  tribe  too  oft  a  manly  pride 
Strives  in  strong  toil  the  fainting  heart  to  hide  ; 
There  may  you  see  the  youth  of  slender  frame 
Contend  with  weakness,  weariness,  and  shame  ; 
Yet  urged  along,  and  proudly  loath  to  yield, 
He  strives  to  join  his  fellows  of  the  field  ; 
Till  long-contending  nature  droops  at  last. 
Declining  health  rejects  his  poor  repast. 
His  cheerless  spouse  the  coming  danger  sees, 
And  mutual  murmurs  urge  the  slow  disease. 


Yet  grant  them  health,  't  is  not  for  us  to  tell. 
Though  the  head  droops  not,  that  the  heart  is  well  ; 
Or  will  you  praise  that  homely,  healthy  fare, 
Plenteous  and  plain,  that  happy  peasants  share  ? 
0  !   trifle  not  with  wants  you  cannot  feel. 
Nor  mock  the  misery  of  a  stinted  meal  ; 
Homely  not  wholesome,  plain  not  plenteous,  such 
As  you  who  praise  would  never  deign  to  touch. 


Ye  gentle  souls,  who  dream  of  rural  ease, 
Whom   the   smooth   stream  and   smoother   sonnel 

please  ; 
Go  !  if  the  peaceful  cot  your  praises  share. 
Go  look  within,  and  ask  if  peace  be  there  : 
If  peace  be  his  —  that  drooping,  weary  sire. 
Or  theirs,  that  ofispring  round  their  feeble  fire  ; 
Or  hers,  that  matron  pale,  whose  trembling  hand 
Turns  on  the  wretched  hearth  the  expiring  brand. 

Nor  yet  can  time  itself  obtain  for  these 
Life's  latest  comforts,  duo  respect  and  ease  ; 
For  yonder  see  that  hoary  swain,  whose  age 
Can  with  no  cares  except  its  own  engage  ; 
Who,  propped  on  that  rude  stafi',  looks  up  to  see 
The  bare  arms  broken  from  the  withering  tree  ; 


SUMMER  —  AUGUST. 


257 


On  which,  a  boy,  ho  climbod  tho  loftiest  bough, 
Then  his  first  joy,  but  his  sad  omblom  now. 

He  once  was  chief  in  nil  tlio  rustic  trade. 
His  steady  hand  the  straightost  furrow  mudo  ; 
Full  many  a  prize  he  won,  and  still  is  proud 
To  find  the  triumphs  of  his  youth  allowed  ; 
A  transient  pleasure  sparkles  in  his  eyes, 
He  heai-s  and  smiles,  then  thinks  again  and  sighs  : 
For  now  he  journeys  to  bis  grave  in  pain  ; 
The  rich  disdain  him  ;  nay,  tho  poor  disdain  ; 
Alternate  masters  now  their  slave  eommand,i 
Urge  the  weak  efforts  of  his  feeble  hand, 
And,  when  his  age  attempts  its  task  in  vain. 
With  ruthless  taunts,  of  laiy  poor  complain. 

Oft  may  you  see  him  when  he  tends  tho  sheep. 
His  winter  charge,  beneath  the  hillock  weep  ; 
Oft  hear  him  murmur  to  the  winds  that  blow 
O'er  his  white  locks,  and  bury  them  in  snow  ; 
When  roused  by  rage  and  muttering  in  the  morn, 
He  mends  tho  broken  hedge  with  icy  thorn. 

DBSPAmiSO  COMPLAIST  OF  TIIK  AGED  PAUPER  LABORER. 

'  Why  do  I  live,  when  I  desire  to  bo 
At  once  from  life  and  life's  long  labor  free? 
Like  leaves  in  Spring,  the  young  are  blown  away. 
Without  the  sorrows  of  a  slow  decay  ; 
I,  like  yon  withered  leaf,  remain  behind, 
Nipt  by  the  frost,  and  shivering  in  the  wind  ; 
There  it  abides  till  younger  buds  come  on. 
As  I,  now  all  my  fellow-swains  are  gone  ; 
Then,  from  the  rising  generation  thrust. 
It  falls,  like  me,  unnoticed  to  the  dust. 

'  These  fruitful  fields,  these  numerous  flocks  1 8e( 
Are  others'  gain,  but  killing  cares  to  me  ; 
To  me  the  children  of  my  youth  are  lords. 
Cool  in  their  looks,  but  hasty  in  their  words  ; 
Wants  of  their  own  demand  their  care,  and  who 
Feels  his  own  want  and  succors  others  too  7 
A  lonely,  wretched  man,  in  pain  I  go. 
None  need  my  help,  and  none  relieve  my  woe  ; 
Then  let  my  bones  beneath  the  turf  be  laid, 
And  men  forget  the  wretch  they  would  not  aid.' 

Thus  groan  the  old,  till,  by  disease  opprest. 
They  taste  a  final  woe,  and  then  they  rest. 

THE  PARISH  POOB-HI 


C0STRA9TED  wrrn  TlIIl 


Theirs  is  yon  house  that  holds  the  parish  poor. 
Whose  walls  of  mud  scarce  bear  tho  broken  door  ; 
There,  where  the  putrid  vapors,  flagging,  play, 
And  the  dull  wheel  hums  doleful  through  tho  day  ; 
There  children  dwell  who  know  no  parents'  care. 
Parents,  who  know  no  children's  love,  dwell  there  ; 
Heart-broken  matrons  on  their  joyless  bed. 
Forsaken  wives,  and  mothers  never  wed  ; 
Dejected  widows  with  unheeded  tears. 
And  crippled  age  with  more  than  childhood-fears  ; 
The  lame,  tho  blind,  and,  far  the  happiest  they  ! 
Tho  moping  idiot,  and  the  madman  gay. 


'  KBRTOCS  001IPLA1.1TS  ' 

Here  too  the  sick  their  final  doom  receive. 
Hero  brought  amid  the  scenes  of  grief,  to  grieve  ; 
Whore  tho  loud  groans  from  some  sad  chamber  flow, 
Mixt  with  the  clamors  of  tho  crowd  below  ; 
Here  sorrowing,  they  each  kindred  sorrow  scan, 
And  the  cold  charities  of  man  to  man  : 
Whoso  laws  indeed  for  ruined  age  provide. 
And  strong  compulsion  plucks  the  scrap  from  pride ; 
But  still  that  scrap  is  bought  with  many  a  sigh. 
And  pride  embitters  what  it  can't  deny. 

Say  ye,  opprest  by  sum.'  nuitiu-lii-  wo.-s 
Some  jarring  nerve  lli:it  i  i  i    ,    -r  ; 

Who  press  the  downy  iidvanco 

With  timid  eye,  to  riai  <   ; 

Who  with  sad  prayers  iIh'  «>  m' i  u.i.  i.n  uuie, 
To  name  tho  nameles.--,  ever-new  disease  ; 
Who  with  mock  patience  dire  complaints  endure, 
Which  real  pain,  and  that  alone,  can  cure  ; 
How  would  ye  bear  in  real  pain  to  lie 
Despised,  neglected,  left  alone  to  die  ? 
How  would  yo  bear  to  draw  your  latest  breath, 
AVhere  all  that 's  wretched  pave  the  way  for  death? 


Such  is  that  room  which  one  rude  beam  divides, 
And  naked  rafters  form  tho  sloping  sides  ; 
Where  the  vile  bands  that  bind  tho  thatch  are  seen, 
And  lath  and  mud  are  all  that  lie  between  ; 
Save  one  dull  pane,  that,  coarsely  patched,  gives  way 
To  the  rude  tempest,  yet  excludes  the  day  : 
Here,  on  a  matted  flock,  with  dust  o'crspread. 
The  drooping  wretch  reclines  his  languid  head  ; 
For  him  no  hand  the  cordial  cup  applies. 
Or  wipes  the  tear  that  stagnates  in  his  eyes  ; 
No  friends  with  soft  discourse  his  pain  beguile. 
Or  promise  hope  till  sickness  wears  a  smile. 

THE  POOR-HOraB  DOCTOR  ASD  ms  VISPT  DESCRIBED. 

Dill    ."  II  II  l"iil  1111.1  hasty  summons  calls, 
Sli,,  I,  and  echoes  round  tho  walls  ; 

All.  I  ■   1-.  .[uaintly  neat. 

All  |.iuIl  .iiiil  liu.  uiLjs,  bustle  and  conceit  ; 
With  luuks  unaltered  by  these  scenes  of  woe, 
With  speed  that,  entering,  speaks  his  haste  to  go  ; 
He  bids  tho  gazing  throng  around  him  fly. 
And  carries  fate  and  physio  in  his  eye  ; 
A  potent  quack,  long  versed  in  human  ills. 
Who  first  insults  tho  victim  whom  he  kills  ; 
Whose  murderous  hand  a  drowsy  Bench  protect. 
And  whose  most  tender  mercy  is  neglect. 

Paid  by  the  parish  for  attendanoo  hero. 
He  wears  contempt  upon  his  sapient  sneer  ; 
In  haste  ho  seeks  the  bed  where  misery  lies. 
Impatience  marked  in  his  averted  eyes  ; 
And,  some  habitual  queries  hurried  o'er, 
Without  reply,  he  rushes  on  the  door  ; 
His  drooping  patient,  long  inured  to  pain. 
And  long  unheeded,  knows  remonstrance  vain  ; 


258 


RURAL    POETRY. 


He  ceases  now  the  feeble  help  to  crave 
Of  man  ;  and  silent  sinks  into  the  grave. 


But  ere  his  death  some  pious  doubts  arise, 
Some  simple  fears  which  '  bold,  bad'  men  despise  ; 
Fain  would  he  ask  the  parish  priest  to  prove 
His  title  certain  to  the  joys  above  ; 
For  this  he  sends  the  murmuring  nurse,  who  calls 
The  holy  stranger  to  these  dismal  walls  ; 
And  doth  not  he,  the  pious  man,  appear, 
He,  '  passing  rich  with  forty  pounds  a  year'  ? 
Ah  !  no,  a  shepherd  of  a  different  stock, 
And  far  unlike  him,  feeds  this  little  flock  ; 
A  jovial  youth,  who  think.^  hi-  .--ii]m1;i\  s  task 
As  much  as  God  or  man  CM II  I.I  III)  n-l    ; 
The  rest  he  gives  to  loves  an- 1  lal-.i-  li-lil. 
To  fields  the  morning  and  tu  Kar-tc  the  night  ; 
None  better  skilled  the  noisy  pack  to  guide. 
To  urge  their  chase,  to  cheer  them  or  to  chide  ; 
A  sportsman  keen,  he  shoots  through  half  the  day. 
And,  skilled  at  whist,  devotes  the  night  to  play  ; 
Then,  while  such  honors  bloom  around  his  head. 
Shall  he  sit  sadly  by  the  sick  man's  bed 
To  raise  the  hope  he  feels  not,  or  with  zeal 
To  combat  fears  that  ev'n  the  pious  feel  ? 


Now  once  again  the  gloomy  scene  explore. 
Less  gloomy  now  ;  the  bitter  hour  is  o'er, 
The  man  of  many  sorrows  sighs  no  more. 
Up  yonder  hill,  behold  how  sadly  slow 
The  bier  moves  winding  from  the  vale  below  ; 
There  lie  the  happy  dead,  from  trouble  free, 
And  the  glad  parish  pays  the  frugal  fee  ; 
No  more,  0  Death  !  thy  victim  starts  to  hear 
Chui-chwarden  stern,  or  kingly  overseer  ; 
No  more  the  farmer  claims  his  humble  bow,  — 
Thou  art  his  lord,  the  best  of  tyrants  thou  ! 

Now  to  the  church  behold  the  mourners  come. 
Sedately  torpid  and  devoutly  dumb  ; 
The  village  children  now  their  games  suspend. 
To  see  the  bier  that  bears  their  ancient  friend  ; 
For  he  was  one  in  all  their  idle  sport, 
And  like  a  monarch  ruled  their  little  court ; 
The  pliant  bow  he  formed,  the  flying  ball. 
The  bat,  the  wicket,  were  his  labors  all  ; 
Him  now  they  follow  to  his  grave,  and  stand 
Silent  and  sad,  and  gazing,  hand  in  hand  ; 
While,  bending  low,  their  eager  eyes  explore 
The  mingled  relics  of  the  parish  poor  : 
The  bell  tolls  late,  the  moping  owl  flies  round, 
Fear  marks  the  flight  and  magnifies  the  sound  ; 
The  busy  priest,  detained  by  weightier  care, 
Defers  his  duty  till  the  day  of  prayer  ; 
And,  waiting  long,  the  crowd  retire  distressed, 
To  think  a  poor  man's  bones  should  lie  unblest. 


There  are  found,  amid  th 
scenes  of  ti'anquillity.a 
pleasure  of  a  sninmpr  Si 


,  laborious  life, 
59.  The  repose 
rrapted  by  intn 


;lic  DiiUe  of  Rutl 

ES  OF   VILLAGE  : 


No  longer  truth,  though  shown  in  verse,  disdain, 
But  own  the  Village  Life  a  life  of  pain  ; 
I  too  must  yield,  that  oft  amid  these  woes       [pose. 
Are  gleums  of  transient  mirth  and  hours  of  sweet  re- 
>iirli  a-  y-iu  find  on  yonder  sportive  green, 
III'    "jiiii.  s  tall  gate  and  church  way -walk  between; 
W  III  ir  l.aU'iing  stray  a  little  tribe  of  friends, 
I  111  a  liiir  Sunday  when  the  sermon  ends  : 
Then  rural  beaux  their  best  attire  put  on. 
To  win  their  nymphs,  as  other  nymphs  are  won  ; 
While  those  long  wed  go  plain,  and  by  degrees. 
Like  other  husbands,  quit  their  care  to  please. 
Some  of  the  sermon  talk,  a  sober  crowd. 
And  loudly  praise,  if  it  were  preached  aloud  ; 
Some  on  the  labors  of  the  week  look  round. 
Feel  their  own  worth;  and  think  their  toil  renowned; 
While  some,  whose  hopes  to  no  renown  extend. 
Are  only  pleased  to  find  their  labors  end. 

TUE  SABBATH    GBCDGED   TO  THE    POOK  BY  SOME.  —  ITS   USB. 
—  ITS   REST  DISTCBBED   BY   BRCTALITV. 

Thus,    as  their    hours    glide   on  with    pleasure 
fraught. 
Their  careful  masters  brood  the  painful  thought  ; 
i\lueh  in  tbeir.mind  they  murmur  and  lament. 
That  one  fair  day  should  be  so  idly  spent ;       [store 
And  think  that  Heaven  deals  hard,  to  tithe  their 
And  tax  their  time  for  preachers  and  the  poor. 

Yet  still,  ye  humbler  friends,  enjoy  your  hour, 
This  is  your  portion,  yet  unclaimed  of  power  ; 
This  is  Heaven's  gift  to  weary  men  opprest. 
And  seems  the  type  of  their  expected  rest : 
But  yours,  alas  !  are  joys  that  soon  decay  ; 
Frail  joys,  begun  and  ended  with  the  day  ; 
Or  yet,  while  day  permits  those  joys  to  reign. 
The  village  vices  drive  them  from  the  plain. 

See  the  stout  churl,  in  drunken  fury  great, 
Strike  the  bare  bosom  of  his  teeming  mate  ! 
His  naked  vices,  rude  and  unrefined. 
Exert  their  open  empire  o'er  the  mind  ; 
But  can  we  less  the  senseless  rage  despise, 
Because  the  savage  acts  without  disguise  ? 

VILLAGE  DISSIMCLATION  ;   SLAX0EB. 

l^et  here  disguise,  the  city's  vice,  is  seen, 
And  slander  steals  along  and  taints  the  green. 
At  her  approach  domestic  peace  is  gone, 
Domestic  broils  at  her  approach  come  on  ; 
She  to  the  wife  the  husband's  crime  conveys, 
She  tells  the  husband  when  his  consort  strays  ; 


SUMMER  —  AUGUST. 


Her  busy  tongue,  through  all  tho  littlo  state, 
Diffuses  doubt,  suspicion,  and  debate  ; 
Pence,  timorous  goddess  !  quits  her  old  domain, 
In  sentiment  and  song  content  to  i 


LICESTIOCSXKSS  i 

Nor  are  tho  nymphs  that  breathe  the  rural  air 
So  fair  as  Cynthia's,  nor  so  chaste  as  fitir  ; 
These  to  the  town  afford  each  fresher  face, 
And  the  clown's  trull  receives  the  peer's  embrace  ; 
From  whom,  should  chance  again  convey  her  down, 
The  peer's  disease  in  turn  attacks  tho  clown. 


Hoar  lotthe  'squire,  or  'squire-liko  farmer,  talk. 
How  round  their  regions  nightly  pilferers  walk  ; 
How  from  their  ponds  the  fish  arc  borne,  and  all 
The  ripening  treasures  from  their  lofty  wall ; 
How  meaner  rivals  in  their  sports  delight. 
Just  rich  enough  to  claim  a  doubtful  right ; 
Who  take  a  license  round  their  fields  to  stray, 
A  mongrel  race  !  the  poachers  of  the  day. 

A  VILLAGE  RIOT   ON  Xnu  VILLAGE    GREEN. 

And  hark  !  the  riots  of  the  green  begin. 
That  sprang  at  first  from  yonder  noisy  inn  ; 
What  time  the  weekly  pay  was  vanished  all, 
And  the  slow  hostess  scored  the  threatening  wall ; 
What  time  they  asked,  their  friendly  feast  to  close, 
A  final  cup,  and  that  will  make  them  foes  ; 
When  blows  ensue  that  break  the  arm  of  toil, 
And  rustic  battle  ends  the  boobies'  broil. 


Save  when  to  yonder  hall  they  bend  their  way, 
Where  the  grave  justice  ends  tho  grievous  fray  ; 
Ho  who  recites,  to  keep  the  poor  in  awe, 
The  law's  vast  volume  —  for  he  knows  the  law.  — 
To  him  with  anger  or  with  shame  repair 
The  injured  peasant  and  deluded  fair. 


Lo  !  at  his  throne  the  silent  nymph  appears, 
Frail  by  her  shape,  but  modest  in  her  tears  ; 
And  while  she  stands  abashed,  with  conscious  eye. 
Some  favorite  female  of  her  judge  glides  by  ; 
Who  views  with  scornful  glance  the  strumpet's  fate, 
And  thanks  tho  stars  that  made  her  keeper  great : 
Near  her  the  swain,  about  to  bear  for  life 
One  certain  evil,  doubts  'twixt  war  and  wife  ; 
But,  while  the  faltering  damsel  takes  her  oath, 
Consents  to  wed,  and  so  secures  thein  both. 


Yet  why,  you  ask,  these  humble  crimes  relate. 
Why  make  the  poor  as  guilty  as  the  great  ? 
To  show  the  great,  those  mightier  sons  of  pride, 
How  near  in  vice  the  lowest  are  allied  ; 
Such  are  their  natures,  and  their  passions  such. 
But  these  disguise  too  littlo,  those  too  much  ; 
So  shall  the  man  of  power  and  pleasure  see 
In  his  own  slave  as  vile  a  wretoh  as  he  ; 


In  his  luxurious  lord  the  servant  find 
His  own  low  pleasures  and  degenerate  mind  ; 
And  each  in  all  tho  kindred  vices  trace, 
Of  a  poor,  blind,  bewildered,  erring  race  ! 
Who,  a  short  timo  in  varied  fortune  past, 
Die,  and  are  equal  in  the  dust  at  last. 

ENVT  OF  THE  lUCH  BY  THE  POOR,  DISSCADEO   FROM. 

And  you,  ye  poor,  who  still  lament  your  fate, 
Forbear  to  envy  those  you  call  tho  groat ; 
And  know,  amid  those  blessings  they  possess. 
They  are,  like  you,  the  victims  of  distress  ; 
While  sloth  with  many  a  pang  torments  her  slave. 
Fear  waits  on  guilt,  and  danger  shakes  tho  brave. 

0,  if  in  life  one  noble  chief  appears. 
Great  in  his  name,  while  blooming  in  his  years  ; 
Born  to  enjoy  wbate'er  delights  mankind. 
And  yet  to  all  you  feel  or  fear  resigned  ; 
Who  gave  up  joys  and  hopes  to  you  unknown. 
For  pains  and  dangers  greater  than  your  own  ! 
If  such  there  be,  then  let  your  murmurs  cease. 
Think,  think  of  him,  and  take  your  lot  in  peace. 

And  such  there  was  :  —  0  !  grief,   that  checks 

Weeping  we  say  there  was,  for  Manners  died  ; 
Beloved  of  Heaven,  these  humble  lines  forgive. 
That  sing  of  thee,'  and  thus  aspire  to  live. 

As  the  tall  oak,  whose  vigorous  branches  form 
An  ample  shade,  and  brave  the  wildest  storm. 
High  o'er  the  subject  wood  is  seen  to  grow, 
The  guard  and  glory  of  the  trees  below  ; 
Till  on  its  head  the  fiery  bolt  descends, 
And  o'fM-  th'.  j-hiiti  ttt..  -ItMtt'.r.^'l  trunk  extends  ; 
Yctthvn  it  li.^,  ,,!■  .,..1  I,.   ,    ,.    iK.f.,re, 
And  ;-tilI  ilir  -  |..i ; .  1  ■  .  Mj  i.  I  i  I    ju;ird  no  more. 

So  Hi. 111.  uh.  II  .  \.  ly  1  iiiii,.    .  vrry  grace. 
Rose  in  thy  soul,  ..r  slicme  within  thy  face  ; 
When,  though  the  son  of  Granby,  thou  wert  known 
Less  by  thy  father's  glory  than  thy  own  ; 
When  honor  loved,  and  gave  thee  every  charm. 
Fire  to  thy  eye  and  vigor  to  thy  arm  ; 
Then  from  our  lofty  hopes  and  longing  eyes. 
Fate  and  thy  virtues  called  thee  to  the  skies  : 
Yet  still  we  wonder  at  thy  towering  fame. 
And,  losing  thee,  still  dwell  upon  thy  name. 

0,  ever  honored,  ever  valued  !  say 
What  verse  can  praise  thee,  or  what  work  repay  ? 
Yet  verse  (in  all  we  can)  thy  worth  repays. 
Nor  trusts  the  tardy  zeal  of  future  days  ;  — 

I  Lonl  Robert  Manners,  the  ynmigcst  son  of  the  Marquis 
of  Granby,  and  the  Lady  Frances  Seymour,  daughter  of 
Chark-s,  Uukc  of  Somerset,  was  bom  the  6lh  of  February, 
I76S,  and  was  placed  with  his  brother,  the  late  Duke  of 
Itutland,  at  Eton  School,  where  he  acquired,  and  ever  after 
retained,  a  considerable  knowledge  of  the  classical  authors. 

Lord  Robert,  after  going  through  t 
Blon  on  board  different  ships,  was  ma 
lution,  and  commanded  her  in  nine  A 
the  last  memorable  one,  on  the  2d  of  April, 
breaking  the  French  line  of  hi 
which  terminated  his  life,  in  the  twenty-fourth  year  of  hU 
age.  —  See  Dodatey^s  Annual  Register. 


260 


RURAL    POETRY. 


Honors  for  thee  thy  country  shall  prepare, 
Thee  in  their  hearts  the  good,  the  brave,  shall  bear; 
To  deeds  like  thine  shall  noblest  chiefs  aspire, 
The  muse  shall  mourn  thee,  and  the  world  admire. 
In  future  times,  when,  smit  with  glory's  charms, 
The  untried  youth  first  quits  a  father's  arms  ; 
'0,  be  like  him  !'  the  weeping  sire  shall  say, 
'Like  Manners  walk,  who  walked  in  honor's  way  ; 
In  danger  foremost,  yet  in  death  sedate, 
0,  be  like  him  in  all  things,  but  his  fate  ! ' 
If  for  that  fate  such  public  tears  be  shed, 
That  victory  seems  to  die  now  thou  art  dead  ; 
How  shall  a  friend  his  nearer  hope  resign, 
That  friend  a  brother,  and  whose  soul  was  thine  ; 
By  what  bold  lines  shall  we  his  grief  express. 
Or  by  what  soothing  niunbers  make  it  less  ? 


'T  is  not,  I  know,  the  chiming  of  a  song. 
Nor  all  the  powers  that  to  the  muse  belong, 
"Words  aptly  culled  and  meanings  well  expressed, 
Can  calm  the  sorrows  of  a  wounded  breast ; 
But  virtue,  soother  of  the  fiercest  pains, 
Shall  heal  that  bosom,  Rutland,  where  she  reigns. 

Yet  hard  the  task  to  heal  the  bleeding  heart, 
To  bid  the  still-recurring  thoughts  depart ; 
Tame  the  fierce  grief  and  stem  the  rising  sigh, 
And  curb  rebellious  passion,  with  reply  ;  — 
Calmly  to  dwell  on  all  that  pleased  before, 
And  yet  to  know  that  all  shall  please  no  more  ;  — 
0,  glorious  labor  of  the  soul  to  save 
Her  captive  powers,  and  bravely  mourn  the  brave  ! 


To  such,  these  thoughts  will  la<<ting  comfort 
Life  is  not  mea'^ured  by  the  time  we  li\e 
'T  is  not  an  even  oouise  of  three  score  years 


A  life  of  narrow  views  and  paltry  fears. 
Gray  hairs  and  wrinkles  and  the  cares  they  bring, 
That  take  from  death  the  terrors  or  the  sting  ; 
But  't  is  the  generous  spirit,  mounting  high. 
Above  the  world,  that  native  of  the  sky  ; 
The  noble  spirit,  that,  in  dangers  brave, 
Calmly  looks  on,  or  looks  beyond  the  grave  ; 
Such  Manners  was,  so  he  resigned  his  breath, 
If  in  a  glorious,  then  a  timely,  death. 


Cease,  then,  that  grief,  and  let  those  tears  subside, 
If  passion  rule  us,  be  that  passion  prido  ; 
If  reason,  reason  bids  us  strive  to  raise 
Our  fallen  hearts,  and  be  like  him  we  praise  ; 
Or  if  affection  still  the  soul  subdue, 
Bring  all  his  virtues,  all  his  worth,  in  view, 
And  let  affection  find  its  comfort  too  ; 
For  how  can  grief  so  deeply  wound  the  heart, 
^yhen  admiration  claims  so  large  a  part'? 

Grief  is  a  foe,  expel  him  then  thy  soul, 
Let  nobler  thoughts  the  nearer  views  control  ; 
0,  make  the  age  to  come  thy  better  care. 
See  other  Rutlands,  other  Granbys,  there  ; 
And  as  thy  thoughts  through  streaming  ages  glide, 
See  other  heroes  die  as  Manners  died  : 
And,  from  their  fate,  thy  race  shall  nobler  grow, 
As  trees  shoot  upwards  that  are  pruned  below  ; 
Or  as  old  Thames,  borne  down  with  decent  pride, 
Sees  his  young  streams  run  warbling  at  his  side  ; 
Though  some,  by  art  cut  off,  no  longer  run. 
And  some  are  lost  beneath  the  Summer's  sun  — 
Yet  the  pure  stream  moves  on,  and  as  it  moves. 
Its  power  increases  and  its  use  improves  ; 
V,  hile  plenty  lound  its  spacious  waves  bestow, 
Still  it  flows  on  and  shall  forever  fiow. 


Tvuval  (i>i)r5  for  ^uiius' 


BRYANT'S   "RIVULET." 

This  little  rill  that  from  tlie  springs 
Of  yonder  grove  its  current  brings, 
Plays  on, the  slope  a  while,  and  then 
Goes  prattling  into  groves  again,  — 
Oft  to  its  warbling  waters  drew 
My  little  feet  when  life  was  new. 
When  woods  in  early  green  were  drest, 
And  from  the  chambers  of  the  west 
The  warmer  breezes,  travelling  out, 
Breathed  the  new  scent  of  flowers  about, 
My  truant  steps  from  homo  would  stray, 
Upon  its  grassy  side  to  play  ; 
To  crop  the  violet  on  ita  brim, 
And  listen  to  the  throstle's  hymn, 
With  bluDUiing  cheek  and  open  brow, 
As  young  and  gay,  sweet  rill,  as  thou. 

And  when  the  days  of  boyhood  came. 
And  I  had  grown  in  love  with  fame, 
Dulv  I  sought  thy  banks,  and  tried 
My  first  rudo  numbers  by  thy  side. 
Words  cannot  tell  how  glad  and  gay 
The  scenes  of  life  before  me  lay. 
Iligh  visions,  then,  and  lofty  schemes. 
Glorious  and  bright  as  fairy  dreams, 
And  daring  hopes,  that  now  to  speak 
Would  bring  the  blood  into  my  cheek. 
Passed  o'er  mo  ;  and  I  wrote  on  high 
A  name  I  deemed  should  never  die. 

Tears  change  thee  not.     Upon  yon  hill 
The  tall  old  maples,  verdant  still. 
Yet  tell,  in  proud  and  grand  decay, 
How  snilt  the  years  have  passed  away. 
Since  first,  a  child,  and  half  afraid, 
I  wandered  in  the  forest  shade. 
But  thou,  gay,  merry  rivulet. 
Dost  dimple,  play,  and  prattle,  yet  ; 
And  sporting  with  the  sands  that  pavo 
Tho  windings  of  thy  silver  wave. 
And  dancing  to  thy  own  wild  chime, 
Thou  laughcst  at  tho  lapse  of  time. 
Tho  same  sweet  sounds  aro  in  my  ear 
My  early  childhood  loved  to  hear  ; 
As  pure  thy  limpid  waters  run. 
As  bright  they  sparkle  to  tho  sun  ; 
As  fresh  the  herbs  that  crowd  to  drink 


The  moisture  of  thy  oozy  brink  ; 
Tho  violet  there,  in  soft,  May  dew, 
Comes  up,  as  modest  and  as  blue  ; 
As  green  amid  thy  current's  stress 
Floats  the  scarce-rooted  water  cress  ; 
And  the  brown  ground-bird,  in  thy  glen. 
Still  chirps  as  merrily  as  then. 

Thou  changest  not  —  but  I  am  changed. 
Since  first  thy  pleasant  banks  I  ranged  ; 
And  tho  grave  stranger,  come  to  see 
The  play-place  of  his  infancy, 
lias  scarce  a  single  trace  of  him 
Who  sported  once  npon  thy  brim. 
The  visions  of  ray  youth  are  past  — 
Too  bright,  too  beautiful,  to  last. 
I  'vo  tried  the  world  —  it  wears  no  more 
Tho  coloring  of  romance  it  wore. 
Yet  well  has  nature  kept  tho  truth 
She  promised  to  my  earliest  youth  ; 
The  radiant  beauty,  shed  abroad 
On  all  the  glorious  works  of  God, 
Shows  freshly,  to  my  sobered  eye. 
Each  charm  it  wore  in  days  gone  by. 

A  few  brief  years  shall  pass  away. 
And  I,  all  trembling,  weak,  and  gray. 
Bowed  to  the  earth,  which  waits  to  fold 
My  ashes  in  tho  embracing  mould,  — 
If  haply  tho  dark  will  of  fato 
Indulge  my  life  so  long  a  date,  — 
May  come  for  the  last  time  to  look 
Upon  my  childhood's  favorite  brook. 
Then  dimly  on  my  eye  shall  gleam 
The  sparkle  of  thy  dancing  stream  ; 
And  faintly  on  my  ear  shall  fall 
Thy  prattling  current's  merry  call  ; 
Y'ct  shalt  thou  flow  as  glad  and  bright 
As  when  thon  met'st  my  infant  sight. 

And  I  shall  sleep  —  and  on  thy  side. 
As  ages  after  ages  glide. 
Children  their  early  sports  shall  try, 
And  pass  to  hoary  age,  and  die. 
But  thou,  unchanged  from  year  to  year, 
Oayly  shalt  play  and  glitter  here  ; 
Amid  young  flowers  and  tender  grass 
Thy  endless  infancy  shalt  i>ass  ; 
And,  singing  down  thy  narrow  glen, 
Shalt  mock  tho  fading  rooo  of  men. 


RURAL  POETRY.  —  STREET  —  ANACREON  —  CLARE  —  MILTON. 


STREET'S    "AUGUST." 
An  August  day  !  a  dreamy  haze 

Films  air,  and  mingles  with  the  slties  ; 
Sweetly  the  rich,  dark  sunshine  plays, 

Bronzing  each  object  where  it  lies. 
Outlines  are  melted  in  the  gauze 

That  Nature  veils  ;   the  fitfulbreeze 
From  the  thick  pine  low  murmuring  draws, 

Then  dies  in  flutterings  midst  the  trees. 
The  bee  is  slumbering  in  the  thistle, 
And,  now  and  then,  a  broken  whistle, 
A  tread  —  a  hum  —  a  tap  —  is  heard 

Through  the  dry  leaves,  in  grass  and  bush, 
As  insect,  animal,  and  bird. 

Rouse  brief  from  their  lethargic  hush. 
Then  e'en  these  pleasant  sounds  would  cease. 
And  a  dread  stillness  all  things  lock  : 
The  aspen  seem  like  sculptured  rock. 
And  not  a  tassel  thread  be  shaken, 
The  monarch  pine's  deep  trance  to  waken. 
And  Nature  settle  prone  in  drowsy  peace. 
The  misty  blue  —  the  distant  masses. 

The  air  in  woven  purple  glimmering. 
The  shiver  transiently  that  passes 
Over  the  leaves,  as  though  each  tree 

Gave  one  brief  sigh  —  the  slumberous  shimme 
Of  the  red  light  —  invested  seem 

With  some  sweet  charm,  that  soft,  serene. 
Mellows  the  gold  —  the  blue  —  the  green, 
Into  mild,  tempered  harmony. 

And  melts  the  sounds  that  intervene. 
As  scarce  to  break  the  quiet,  till  we  deem 
Nature  herself  transformed  to  Fancy's  dream. 


ANACREON'S  "GRASSHOPPER." 

TRANSLATED  FKOM  THE  GREEK  BV  COWLEY. 


IIlPPT 


whc 


1  t    thee ' 


r    I        I 

Tl      I  ntle  wme ! 

N  I  1       th  e    t  II 

And  thj  \ciddntc,  i   does  fill 

T  IS  filled  wherevti  thoi  d    t  tiead, 

Nit  If     tly         ymedo 

'  I   I     ce  anl  sing, 

1^1^^  I      tkmg 

'^ll         1  I     „t    thee'"' 

All  that  summ  i  houis  pioduce 
Fertile  made  with  early  juioe 
Man  for  thee  does  sow  and  plough  ; 
Farmer  he,  and  landlord  thou  ! 
Thou  dost  innocently  enjoy  ; 
Nor  does  thy  luxury  destroy.    , 
The  shepherd  gladly  heareth  thee. 
More  harmonious  than  he. 


Thee  country  hinds  with  gladness  hear, 

Prophet  of  the  ripened  year  ' 

Thee  Ph.,.h,„  ,,,,„,  „„i<i,,es  inspire; 

Pho'l,,,- i- l„,„-,.|,  ii,v  ,i,-i., 

TothiT,  „|-  ,11  ,1,,,,,-  H|„,„  earth. 

Life  is  „n  long,.,.  ih;u,  thy  mirth. 

Happy  in.sect  !  happy  thou, 

Dost  neither  age  nor  winter  know. 

But  when  thou  'st  drunk,  and  danced,  and  i 

Thy  fill,  the  flowery  leaves  among 

(Voluptuous  and  wise  withal. 

Epicurean  animal  !), 

Satiated  with  thy  summer  feast. 

Thou  retir-st  to  endless  rest. 


CLARE'S  "SUMMER  INSECTS." 
These  tiny  loiterers  on  the  barley's  beard. 
And  happy  units  of  a  numerous  herd 
Of  playfellows,  the  laughing  Summer  brings  ; 
Mocking  the  sunshine  on  their  glittering  wings 
How  merrily  they  creep,  and  run,  and  fly  ! 
No  kin  they  bear  to  labor's  drudgery. 
Smoothing  the  velvet  of  the  pale°hed'ge-rose 
And  where  they  fly  for  dinner  no  one  knows'; 


The  dew-dr, 
Ofi 


they  love  the  shii 
I-  them  golden  wine 
their  Sunday  dress - 


'od  they  fly, 
and  all 


All  day  (!■,.>  'ir  , 

hen  night  rr,,,,.,  , 

Then  to  the  hr;,il,L, 

Secure  from  mii],  :il._.  ._,.„,,ju„j^  uu,,^ 
On  silken  beds  in  roomy,  painted  hall 
So  merrily  they  spend  their  summer  day. 
Or  in  the  eorn-fieUIs.  or  in  new-mown  hay. 
Onealmo.st  f.n.  ir,.  i|,;,l  mkI.  happy  things 

With  colon., I  1 |.;,n,|  n,.hly-l,urnishedwii 

Are  fairy  folk,  ii,  -,,l,.,„l„|  ,„;,_.,ii,erade 
Disguised,  .is  U  ,..1  muiUl  lulk  afraid  ; 
Keeping  their  joyous  pranks  a  mystery  still. 
Lest  glaring  day  should  do  their  secrets  ill. 


MILTON'S   "EVENING." 

Now  came  still  Evening  on,  and  twilight  gray 
Had  in  her  sober  livery  all  things  clad  ; 
Silence  accompanied  :  for  beast  and  bird  — 
They  to  their  grassy  couch,  these  to  their  nests  — 
Were  slunk,  all  but  the  wakeful  nightingale. 
She  all  night  long  her  amorous  descant  sung  ; 
Silence  was  pleased  :  now  glowed  the  firmament 
With  living  sapphires  ;  Hesperus,  that  led 
The  starry  host,  rode  brightest  till  the  Moon, 
Rising  in  clouded  m.ijesty,  at  length 
Apparent  queen,  unveiled  her  peerless  light, 
the  dark  her  silver  mantle  threw. 


And. 


Hclillc's    "aountvD    (hruticiium 


TRANSLATED   FROM  THE  FRENCH   BY  JOHN    MAUNDE. 


live  in  the  country. 


now  a  proprietor 

8ppoimni.T-t    r-.r 

Whit.-,,:  1  ■   I.™. 

Sprin,-,  ,.-  .-:.  -  --:■-  v..  I--  .-huoling. 
huntinc,  .lv..tli  ..1  il..  -i.ih.  Au...  riiaam-es  or  frienil- 
ship  nccesaavy.  llo^piliilily  to  tin-  living.  Hospitality 
to  the  dead.  Ilonora  paid  to  authors.  Incitements  to 
generosity.  Rural  industry.  Rustic  poverty  relieved. 
The  village  pastor,  Tillage  schoolmaster.  Infant  disposi- 
tions. Infant  abilities.  Superstition,  advice  against. 
Bowls,  archery,  dancing. 


RCBiL  POETBT.—BOILKiC  — VIRGIL. 

From  H.iilr.iu's  miiso.  of  bold  and  haughty  ' 


The  rit'iil  In 

Tho  Jl.n.lu:,, 

With  rcn.li.i 
Fain  would  i 


r  |...Ii  li.il  vorse  are  known  ; 
rl  111-  Ml  the  docile  field 
il  it-  taiily  produce  yield, 
numbers  teach  the  human  heart 


That  pure  enjoyment  which  our  fields  impart : 
How  vain  the  wish  !  so  shall  the  sylvan  muso 
Each  pedant  rule,  each  harsher  note,  refuse  ; 
Show  Nature's  form  in  smiling  beauty  drcst. 
And  call  mankind  to  view  hor  and  bo  blest ! 

I.VV0CJITI0S  TO  COUSTRT  QCICT  ASD  VIItTrE. 

Come,  then,  ye  blissful  scenes,  ye  soft  retreats 
Where  life  flows  pure,  the  heart  more  calmly  beats; 
Where  harmless  pleasure  lulls  tho  tranquil  mind. 
Nor  leaves  tho  sting  of  diro  reproach  behind  ! 
Inspire  my  pen  !  that,  drawn  in  Nature's  cause, 
With  genuine  pleasure  mingles  Virtue's  laws. 


What  though   our  meads  with  purest  bliss  i 
fraught  ? 
Few  mortals  know  to  feel  it  as  they  ought 
For,  not  alone  to  sensual  powers  confined. 
It  asks  the  guiltless  taste  and  spotless  mind. 
Hero  let  me  not,  with  declamation  vain 
And  counsel  sad,  afflict  tho  wretched  train. 
That,  in  tho  lap  of  early  luxury  bred. 
With  wandering  steps  its  prostrate  ruins  tread. 
Too  much,  alas  !  must  bleeding  France  lament 
The  rava;;c  dire  that  wild  Reform  has  sent ! 
Yet  not  to  France  alono  my  muse  shall  sing  : 
For  OTory  clime  she  prunes  her  daring  wing. 


Wouldst  thou,  sequestered  'midst  thy  rustic  bowers, 
In  calm  contentment  pass  the  tranquil  hours  ? 
Thy  sylvan  gods,  that  guard  the  sacred  round. 
With  inconse  pure  must  see  their  altars  crowned  ; 
Not  like  yon  heir  corrupt,  of  simple  sire. 
Who,  ere  enjoyment  comes,  has  lost  desire  ; 
Whoso  veering  wishes,  ever  on  tho  range, 
Shift,  like  his  current  coin,  in  endless  change. 
See  him  in  town  :  scarce  does  the  morning  rise, 
Tho  town  fatigues,  and  to  tho  fields  he  flics  ; 
There  scarce  arrived  before  his  mansion  gate. 
Disgust  and  vapored  Spleen  his  coming  wait  : 
Scarce  has  his  eyo  the  gay  parterre  surveyed, 
The  Chinese  ti-inplc  and  the  ^'r«-nh<iusc-  sluide  ; 

Tired  of  tho  frr„.  .  ^^    n. ■«-!..  Ml  >M    iM      Hianil, 

He  hastes  t"  I'  i   :      .    :       :  > 

Thus  palled  «iri  :      '  ■•  "', 

Ho  blames  thi;  luuii,  uwk.-  Un  c  uiiti.i  Ivu  : 
The  fault  is  his  alone,  the  ceaseless  strife 
Of  meeting  wishes  sours  tho  stream  of  life. 


.'Viniil-t  thy  llrl.l-,  i\ hence  simplest  pleasures  flow, 
Scaiih  iii.t  ilii'  lal.Hrfil  pomp  of  empty  show  ; 
Else  wilt  thim  find,  a  prey  to  useless  pride. 
Thy  mind  depressed,  thy  heart  dis.«ati9fied. 
Too  oft  docs  Man,  with  Nature  still  at  war, 
Tn  proud  conceit,  her  fairest  prospects  mar  : 
With  pitying  oyo  I  mark  the  wealthy  clown, 
That  to  tho  country  brings  tho  city  down. 
With  splendid  pnnip  adnrn>  hi-  house  and  board, 
And  at  the  vil!         .   ^     '  ,|.iunMs  l..r.l. 

Withadde.i   ■  :  I  vi.  u. 

Who  rashly  i  '    fiii  n. 

Courts  the  ;,':i_\  -■  ■  '  '  •■■'>  ■  i  h.'  |.iil.lir  i-ye, 
Squanders  the  n.ril  hi-  ri'h  .h.iiiains  .■supply  ; 
With  mean  attendance  guards  the  great  man's  gate. 
With  eager  look  his  passing  glance  to  wait ; 
Pleased  if  some  placeman  beckon  him  aside, 
And  fan  with  flattering  hopes  his  empty  pride. 

rOWBB  A.VD  PLACl!    IXIMICil  TO  PBACB.  — CPTY  CARES  A.Vn 
COCNTttV   PCACB. 

How  soon,  alas  !  by  sad  experience  brought, 
Arrives  disgust :  disgust  how  dearly  bought ! 
Till,  humbler  grown,  he  seeks  his  fields  again. 
Attends  bis  vintage,  or  collects  his  grain  : 


264 


RURAL    POETRY. 


Convinced  at  length,  from  state -intrigues  aloof, 
That  Peace  resides  beneath  the  cottage  roof. 

Ye  that  in  courts  'midst  storms  and  tumult  liv 
Hope  not  the  pleasures  which  the  fields  can  giv€ 
For  you,  alas  !  the  dwelling  of  a  day, 
To  restless  Care  they  lend  a  moment's  stay  ! 
Let  him,  where  cities  rear  their  towering  head, 
Transplant  the  leafy  grove,  and  flowery  mead  : 


I  blame  him  not ;  but  see,  with  proud  delight, 
Triumphant  Nature  vindicate  her  right ; 
Aided  by  Art,  her  native  power  resume, 
Live  'midst  the  great,  and  in  the  palace  bloom. 
Soon  shall  your  heart,  by  dreadful  anguish  rent. 
The  fatal  error  of  your  choice  lament ; 
Look  at  your  trees  :  no  flattery  they  bestow  ; 
No  worldly  scorn  nor  arts  ungrateful  know  ; 
And  when  they  promise,  in  their  friendly  shade, 
A  refuge  sure,  they  keep  the  promise  made. 


Try  then  to  leave  the  city's  peopled  waste, 
And  form,  by  soft  degrees,  a  rural  taste  ; 
Let  town-bred  projects  to  the  country  yield  ; 
Adorn  your  garden  ;  cultivate  your  field  : 
And  though,  while  rustic  toils  your  mind  employ, 
You  miss,  perhaps,  the  sage's  purer  joy, 
Self-love  will  soon  the  vacant  place  supply. 
And  view  its  offspring  with  a  parent's  eye. 


Ev'n  in  the  fairest  scenes,  some  pleasures  still 
The  rural  hour  at  intervals  must  fill  : 
Choose  them  with  cautious  care  ;  nor  madly  vain 
Beneath  thy  roof  receive  the  Thespian  train  : 
Let  the  proud  lord  the  gaudy  throng  admit, 
"Whose  marble  dome  such  pompous  shows  befit. 
But  in  the  cottage-walls  theatric  noise 
Usurps  the  peaceful  scene  of  pastoral  joys. 
While  mirth  escapes  before  the  splendid  view, 
How  shall  ourselves  escape  contagion  too  ? 
Slow  o'er  the  breast  the  soft  infection  creeps, 
Till  in  our  bed,  perhaps,  the  actress  sleeps. 


,    QCARRELS, 


'   CHILDREN,  INDUCED 


Add,  that  the  jealous  clash  of  rival  hate, 
The  spiteful  whisper,  and  the  warm  debate, 
Who  princess,  lover,  king  or  clown,  shall  be, 
Form,  'midst  the  troop  itself,  a  comedy. 
Oft,  too,  the  mind,  in  empty  pastime  lost. 
Neglects  those  duties  which  concern  it  most ; 
See  Mondor,  Merope,  with  skilful  art, 
Of  sire  or  mother  top  the  mimic  part,  — 
Think'st  thou  at  home  their  infants  know  their  care? 
Vainly,  alas  !  you  seek  the  parent  there. 
Thus  then,  arrived  at  Folljr's  highest  noon, 
Does  man  turn  mimic,  and  the  sage  buffoon  ; 
Thus  Nero  lived,  amidst  his  motley  court, 
His  people's  terror  and  his  people's  sport. 


Let  Mole,  Sainval,  crowned  with  just  renown, 
With  graceful  skill  enchant  the  listening  town, 
In  scenes  sublime,  distinguished  wouklst  thou  shine. 
Tread  Nature's  stage,  and  that  distinction  's  thine. 
What  softened  charms  her  various  scenes  supply 
To  those  of  finer  taste  and  practised  eye  ! 
The  vulgar  soul  to  no  emotion  yields  : 
Though  Spring  or  Summer  deck  the  smiling  fields. 
Senseless  it  sees  the  changing  hours  advance, 
Owns  no  distinction,  and  is  pleased  by  chance. 
Not  so  the  Sage  :  to  varying  nature  true, 
To-day  some  new-born  object  strikes  his  view  ; 
To-morrow  comes  ;  its  short-lived  beauty  flies. 
And  gives  a  fresh  sensation  as  it  dies. 

IM  OF   VARIETY  IN  NATCRE. 


Thus  will  the  soul  to  present  pleasure  spring. 
And  grieve  for  that  which  struggles  on  the  wing  ; 
In  all  is  pleased  ;  or  when  the  freshened  morn 
Gives  life  to  flowers  that  hasten  to  be  born  ; 
Or  should  the  sun,  now  verging  to  the  main, 
Some  languid  traces  of  his  fire  retain. 
So  Homer  leaves  the  dreadful  shock  of  arms, 
And  loves  to  paint  Aurora's  rosy  charms  : 
So  Lorraine's  magic  touch,  as  daylight  dies. 
With  yellow  lustre  gilds  his  evening  skies. 


Through  all  its  change  the  rolling  year  pursue, 
That,  like  the  day,  can  boast  its  morning  too  ! 
Yon  insect  light,  now  first  from  darkness  freed, 
That  flies  exulting  o'er  the  blossomed  mead, 
Expands  his  wings,  and  on  each  opening  flower, 
Young,  gay,  and  brilliant,  tastes  the  vernal  shower, — 
Not  more  enjoys  his  entrance  into  day 
Than  does  the  sage,  when  Spring  resumes  its  sway. 
Farewell  the  gloomy  screen's  seclusive  fold  ! 
Farewell  to  dusty  books,  and  lecture  cold  ! 
Nature's  rich  volume,  to  the  mind  displayed. 
Invites  the  muse  —  and  be  her  call  obeyed  ! 

MENTAL  EFFECTS  OF  SPRING  AND  ADTDMN  CONTRASTED. 

Sweet  though  the  beauties  of  the  new-born  Spring, 
The  later  seasons  other  pleasures  bring  : 
The  autumnal  sun,  that  paler  tints  surround, 
The  dying  foliage,  and  the  woods  embrowned, 
Though  bodings  sad  afflict  the  sorrowing  sense, 
A  mellow  softness  to  the  soul  dispense. 
Spring  lights  up  rapture  in  the  gladdening  eye, 
While  Autumn  bids  us  breathe  the  pensive  sigh. 
The  sunny  day,  that  through  the  Winter  slept, 
Like  some  loved  friend,  whose  death  we  vainly  wept, 
With  unexpected  presence  cheers  the  sight, 
And  e'en  in  quitting  calls  us  to  delight  : 
Then  'tis  a  parting  friend,  that,  ere  ho  goes, 
Each  lingering  moment  on  his  friend  bestows  ; 
The  moment  given  with  ardor  we  retain, 
While  fond  regret  augments  the  pleasing  pain. 


SUMMER — ATJG0ST. 


Majestic  Summer  !  pardon  that  my  laya 
Till  now  forbore  to  oolcbrato  thy  praise. 
Tlie  forvid  splendor  of  thy  mid-day  sun 
With  wonder  strikes  mo,  though  its  Are  I  shun. 
I  love  thoe  most,  whene'er  thy  potent  rage 
Or  Autumn's  breath  or  vernal  gales  assuage. 
Though  Nature  pant  beneath  thy  noontide  power, 
How  sweet  the  freshness  of  thy  evening  hour  ! 
What  time  the  night,  throughout  the  gelid  air, 
Veils  with  her  sable  wings  the  solar  glare  ; 
Then  loves  the  eye,  that  shrunli  before  the  day, 
To  drink  refreshment  from  the  moon's  pale  ray  ; 
When  modest  Cynthia,  clad  in  silver  light, 
E.\pands  her  beauty  on  the  brow  of  night. 
Sheds  her  soft  beams  upon  the  mountain  sido. 
Peeps  through  tho  wood,  and  quivers  on  the  tide. 


Midst  Winter's  storm,  tho  town  I  most  approve  ; 
E'en  there,  though  absent  from  tho  scenes  I  love, 
Thanks  to  the  poet  and  the  painter's  skill ! 
In  fancy's  eye,  I  can  enjoy  them  still. 
But  if  compelled  to  pass  amidst  tho  fields 
The  AVintcr  drear  —  e'en  Winter  pleasure  yields  : 
The  dazzling  snow,  tho  hoary  frost  of  morn, 
And  icy  lustres  that  the  rock  adorn. 
Wandering  through  air,  if  chance  one  solar  beam. 
Herald  of  Spring,  athwart  the  scene  should  gleam. 
That,  like  a  graceful  smile  'midst  Sorrow's  tears. 
With  transient  light  the  mor^ning  desert  cheers, — 
More  than  the  brightest  glow  of  summer  skies, 
Reviving  Nature  shall  tho  stranger  prize. 
If,  o'er  the  barren  waste,  tho  searching  eye 
One  spot  of  verdure  haply  shall  descry. 
How  shall  tho  heart  the  pleasing  object  greet. 
That  brings  with  sweet  remembrance  hopes  as  sweet; 
And  thus  enjoy,  amidst  the  rigid  frost, 
Tho  promised  Spring,  the  Autumn  that  it  lost ! 

THB  WINTER  FIRESIDE  ;  SPORTS  ",  GAHES  J  TUB  GAMESTER. 

But  should  the  tempest  lower  ;  in  yonder  room, 
Where  sparkling  fagots  chase  tho  dreary  gloom. 
With  flambcau.x  lighted,  and  a<lorned  with  taste, 
I'll  sit  secure,  and  mock  the  northern  blast  ; 
While  various  pastimes  happily  dcccivo 
The  lingering  moments  of  llii'  stunny  eve. 
Here,  with  tho  dici-1'  \  t! .  niilniL'  m  his  hands, 
The  practised  gaiiit-ii,  i  ,i  h  ul  ii  ihl',  >taDds  ; 
Or,  o'er  the  gamnmii  ii\r.l,  \\m1i  -iinli.ius  face 
Marks  every  chance,  the  full  ami  vacant  space. 
From  side  to  side  the  shifting  counter  goes. 
One  pile  decreasing  as  the  other  grows. 
As  fears  or  hope  the  panting  bosom  try. 
Through  varied  fortune  runs  the  harassed  die  : 
Now  from  its  prison  thrown,  with  furious  hound 
It  leaps  along  the  board,  that  echoes  round. 
Still  rolling  on  ;  till  one  decisive  stroke 
Pronounce  tho  contest  and  the  party  broke. 


pair,  immorsea  in  thought  pr<pfound. 
Their  peaceful  squadrons  range  on  checkered  ground ; 
Madly  enamored  of  tho  mimic  war. 
With  warmth  they  combat,  though  from  peril  far  ; 
Through  skilful  rounds  and  intricate  defiles 
They  lead  their  ivory  troops  or  ebon  files  : 
With  equal  force  engage  tho  rival  bands. 
And  conquest  long  in  doubtful  balance  stands  : 
One  fatal  check  assures  the  victor's  claim. 
Who  loudly  tells  his  adversary's  shame  : 
He  o'er  tho  chess-men  bent,  with  saddened  view. 
With  pain  believes  that  what  he  sees  is  true. 


Lotto,  piquet,  or  whist's  more  solemn  game, 
Amuso  the  hoary  sire  and  dowriod  dame. 
On  yonder  side,  a  young  and  giddy  train 
Chase  tho  white  balls  along  tho  verdant  plain. 
But  now  the  table,  scene  of  social  charms. 
Commands  each  play'r  to  lay  aside  his  arms  : 
Scarce  from  the  teeming  flask  the  nectar 's  poured. 
Ere  sparkling  wit  allumcs  the  festive  board. 
The  supper  done,  to  lecture  we  repair, 
Peruse  Kaeine,  or  dip  into  Voltaire  : 


Or  else,  alas  !  some  witling  of  tho  place 
Draws  from  his  pocket,  with  important  face, 
A  treacherous  scroll,  which,  as  its  author  reads. 
Fatigue  and  viipur  TMUnd  thf  oirolc  sprcnds  ; 


One 


Till ■   I  :i'  :ii     i:. ■'■'■'  I   ''■  "  ■    ■■■I  '  '■'  ""-  '-Towd 

SudJul,    h-    ;l.l,t:,    Uil'l    •    l:ll>       III-     llM.-l-     ill I. 

Thus  dues  a  laugh  tho  tedious  lecturer  bulk, 
And  to  a  tale  or  sonnet  shifts  the  talk. 
To-morrow  comes,  and,  to  tho  appointment  true, 
Laughter  and  sport  the  self-same  scenes  renew. 
Winter,  no  more  the  god  of  stern  command. 
Bids  blithesome  pleasure  on  his  brow  expand  ; 
A  laughing  sire,  that,  'neath  the  load  of  years. 
Loves  to  be  pleased,  and  charms  in  hoary  hairs. 

ACTIVE   PLEASURES  OP  SPRING.  —  HBALTU. 

The  rising  beauties  of  the  vernal  sky 
More  lively  scenes,  more  active  joy,  supply  : 
Who  then  can  bear,  in  sedentary  place, 
The  difforent  colors  of  the  cards  to  trace  ? 
Man  sighs  for  pleasure,  and  in  health  it  lies  ; 
That  would  he  have,  't  is  found  in  exorcise. 
Let  Winter  only,  or  tho  city,  know 
Those  gloomy  sports  from  indolence  that  flow. 
Where,  pleased  with  torment,  and  amused  by  vice, 
That  Care  may  sleep,  man  wakens  Avarice. 
Gives  not  the  peopled  flood,  the  sylvan  fight, 
More  harmless  pleasure,  more  sincere  delight? 
Come,  then,  thou  Muse  !  to  whoso  domain  belong 
Tho  wandering  Dryads,  ond  the  rustic  throng, 
i  Conduct  my  footsteps  to  their  green  retreat, 
I  Where  primal  man  first  caught  poctio  heat. 


RURAL  POETRY. DELILLE. 


Beneath  yon  willows  pale,  whose  foliage  dank 
Gives  added  freshness  to  the  river's  bank, 
The  fisher  stands,  and  marks  upon  the  tide 
The  trembling  line  along  the  current  glide  ; 
With  mute  attention,  and  with  secret  joy, 
He  views  the  bending  rod,  and  sinking  buoy. 
Which  watery  guest  has  braved  the  sudden  fate, 
Fixed  to  the  barb  that  lurks  beneath  the  bait  ? 
The  springing  trout,  or  carp  bedecked  with  gold. 
Or  does  the  perch  his  purpled  flns  unfold  ? 
The  silvered  eel,  that  winds  through  many  a  maze, 
Or  pike  voracious,  on  his  kind  that  preys  ? 

FOWLING  ;    DEPRECATED. 

The  sportsman  now  the  sylvan  war  prepares. 
And  takes  the  deathful  tube,  that  lightning  bears  ; 
Glanced  from  the  level  of  his  guiding  eye. 
Red  comes  the  flash,  and  thunder  follows  nigh. 
Who  first  is  doomed  to  feel  the  leaden  death  ? 
The  wheeling  plover,  plaintive  o'er  the  heath, 
Or  the  sweet  lark,  that,  soaring  to  the  skies. 
Pierced  'midst  his  amorous  warble,  drops  and  dies  ? 

Thou,  Muse,  that  oft,  with  Pity's  softest  song, 
Hast  sued  for  mercy  to  the  feathered  throng. 
Forbear  t'  ennoble,  in  thy  tuneful  lay, 
The  unmanly  contest,  and  the  inglorious  fray  ! 
Why  call  not  vengeance  on  the  guilty  head 
Of  yon  grim  wolf,  the  country's  scourge  and  dread  ? 
So  shall  his  death  a  noblor  meed  bestow. 
And  flocks  and  fields  shall  bless  the  grateful  blow. 

DEEB-miNTISG  }  THE  CHASE  BEGUN. 

Hark  to  the  horn  !  at  whose  enlivening  sound 
The  aspiring  courser  paws  the  trembling  ground  ; 
With  neck  impatient  draws  the  tightened  rein, 
Champs  on  the  bit,  and  pants  through  every  vein. 
Scared  by  the  martial  noise,  that  echoes  far, 
The  timid  stag  foresees  the  driving  war. 
Long  time  by  vain  irresolution  pressed, 
What  anxious  doubts  invade  his  laboring  breast ! 
Whether  to  trust  at  once  to  rapid  flight. 
Or  wait  with  hardy  front  the  coming  fight  ? 
But  fear  at  length  prevails  ;  on  wings  of  wind 
He  leaves  the  forest  and  the  hunt  behind  ; 
While  now,  with  rein  relaxed,  the  fiery  steed 
Springs  sudden  forth,  and  gives  himself  to  speed  : 
The  ardent  sportsman,  bending  o'er  his  mane. 
Drives  like  a  tempest  o'er  the  beaten  plain. 
Breaks  through  the   coppice,  skims   the   furrowed 

While  clouds  of  dust  arise,  and  blacken  round. 


Still  flies  the  stag,  and  still  the  greedy  pack 
Adhere,  sagacious,  to  the  steaming  track  : 
Where'er  his  footsteps  mark  tho  sandy'  ground, 
There  clings  tho  nostril  of  the  instinctive  hound. 
How  does  he  rue  the  treachery  of  his  feet. 
That  guide  the  savage  to  his  dark  retreat ! 
Beset,  abandoned,  and  with  death  behind. 


At  length  he  calls  his  kindred  herd  to  mind, 
'Mongst  whom,  of  old,  in  fortune's  happier  day, 
The  subject-forest  owned  his  lordly  sway. 
There,  if  perchance,  as,  wandering  o'er  the  grass, 
The  well-known  troop  should  near  their  leader  pass. 
Full  in  the  midst  he  goes,  with  humbler  face. 
To  shield  his  life,  or  hide  his  sad  disgrace. 
Deluding  thought !  the  intrusive  guest  they  hate. 
And  shun  the  contact  of  his  altered  fate. 
Like  some  fall'n  prince,  by  summer-flattery  left, 
He  roams  in  exile,  e'en  of  hope  bereft ! 
While  fond  remembrance  brings  upon  his  view 
Those  woods,  where  once  the  mingled   charms  he 
Of  love  and  glory  ;  when  the  rocks  around     [knew 
Responsive  rung  with  war  or  pleasure's  sound  ; 
When,  like  some  Eastern  lord,  the  female  race 
Alternate  wantoned  in  his  proud  embrace. 
All,  all  is  fled  !  empire,  and  love,  and  fame. 
Leave  him  a  naked  prey  to  death  and  shame. 
What  though  some  youthful  stag,  of  dauntless  face. 
Spring  to  his  aid  and  take  his  dangerous  place. 
The  veteran  dogs  detect  the  useless  snare. 
And  all  the  thunder  of  the  chase  is  near. 
Again  he  flies  ;  and  with  experienced  wile. 
And  sudden  bound,  he  breaks  the  track  a  while  ; 
Then,  far  sequestered  from  the  beaten  way. 
On  every  side  his  fearful  glances  stray  ; 
Backward  he  moves,  and,  as  the  trace  is  crossed. 
He  vainly  hopes  the  steaming  vapor  lost. 
Till,  as  he  listening  stops,  the  opening  throat 
Of  hounds  and  huntsmen  swells  the  deathful  note. 
Aghast  he  looks,  each  ypily  art  is  tried, 
While  fears  unusual  o'er  his  senses  glide  ; 
Each  noise  afl'rights,  upon  the  breeze's  breath  ; 
Each  tree  becomes  a  foe  —  each  foe  is  death  ! 
Fatigued  he  quits  the  land ;  and,  from  the  sleepy  side, 
Plunges  for  refuge  in  the  river's  tide  : 
But  fate  awaits  him  there  :  the  shrill-mouthed  pack. 
With  glowing  eyes,  are  ardent  at  his  back  ; 
Panting  with  fury,  and  with  thirst  inflamed. 
With  deafening  cries  the  dire  repast  is  claimed  ! 
Not  e'en  the  river  can  their  thirst  assuage. 
For  blood,  and  blood  alone,  impels  their  rage  ! 


Exhausted  now,  no  friendly  shelter  near. 
His  weakness  turns  to  fury  and  despair. 
Too  late,  alas  !  his  slackened  nerves  lament 
In  useless  wiles  their  hardy  vigor  spent. 
Why  did  he  not  attend  to  Valor's  call. 
And  by  his  deeds  give  honor  to  his  fall  ? 
At  bay  he  stands  :  impelled  by  generous  fire. 
The  valiant  only  feel  his  quickened  ire  ;  [cries. 

Fierce  'gainst  the  host  he  springs,  whose  dreadful 
Mingled  with  pain,  in  wild  confusion  rise. 
■\Vhat  now  avails  hi?  ehp=t  ..f  nniiile  "how. 
Or  stately  honors  that  ipLih  lii-  ii-.v  ; 
His  taper  legs  with  mai.  IiL--  .-|.. .  I  .  inlnwed, 
Beneath  whose  tread  the  li.  iLa^.  .-.an-fly  bowed? 
Tottering  he  falls  ;  and  while  his  eyeballs  reel. 
Big  drops  distil  that  e'en  his  murderers  feel ! 


SUMMER —  AUGUST. 


THE  MERS  nmiTKB  ASD  SPOBTSMAS. 

With  moderate  heat  pursue  the  sylvan  game  ; 
Unlike  the  fuol,  that,  evorywhcro  the  same, 
TalliS  of  his  dogs,  his  horses,  and  the  chase. 
And  deems  his  mansion  stained  with  diro  disgrace, 

Unless  of  liftv  stiiu's  tlie  branching  horn. 
In  state  Iriumplinii,  iK.'  |ii"Uil  gates  adorn  ; 
Who  todi.iu-  I.  II-  iIm   .  sil"itaofmany  aday, 
And,  lilio  thr  -i;il;,  ln>  au.liinco  keeps  at  bay  ! 
Wouldst  thou  return  boneatli  thy  peaceful  dome? 
More  silent  joys  should  decorate  thy  home. 

THE  FISK  ARTS  ASD  UTEBATCRE.  —  THE  AUTDOB. 

Join  to  the  beauties  of  the  varied  field 
Those  softer  charms  the  Arts  alone  can  yield. 
Hail  !  sister  Arts,  that  every  circle  grace  ! 
What  pleasure  's  pure  where  you  have  not  a  place  ? 
To  you  the  Sage's  sweetest  hours  are  duo, 
With  you  his  eyelids  close,  and  wako  for  you  : 
Oft,  too,  when  all  beside  is  veiled  in  night. 
The  lamp's  inspiring  rays  his  vigils  light. 
His  boast  and  honor,  more  than  treasure  dear, 
Good  fortune  yo  adorn,  and  adverse  cheer  ; 
His  youth's  delight,  hope  of  his  latter  day, 
His  country-guests,  and  friends  upon  the  way  ! 
With  you  e'en  exile's  self  a  refuge  grows, 
Cro^vned  with  mild  study,  virtue,  and  repose. 
Thus  Tully  once,  when  to  the  country  driven. 
Forgot  the  wounds  ungrateful  Rome  had  given  ! 
Thus,  emulating  him,  0'Aguesseau  wooed 
In  Fresnc's  green  bowers  the  peace  of  solitude  ! 
Woe  to  tho  unfeeling  souls,  and  flinty  hearts. 
In  fortune's  sunshine  that  neglect  the  Arts  ! 
They,  in  their  turn,  when  dire  misfortunes  press. 
Leave  them,  without  resource,  to  vile  distress. 
But  with  their  friends  one  common  cause  they  make. 
Their  rustic  joys  or  prison's  gloom  partake  ; 
Grateful  with  them  in  tedious  exile  roam. 
Console  their  pains  or  welcome  them  to  home. 

SOUTCDE  ;  GRATEFUL  IS  TOCTn. 

Nor  summer  day,  nor  books,  nor  verdant  bower. 
Suffice  me  now  to  fill  tho  vacant  hour, 
Unless  some  friend  my  solitude  should  join. 
Give  me  his  pleasures,  and  partake  of  mine. 
Days  of  my  youth  !  when  with  a  poet's  fire 
I  loved  the  Country  in  her  worst  attire. 
In  some  lone  desert  sought  a  resting-place. 
And  for  my  friends,  the  woods  and  feathered  race  ! 
Enthusiast  still !  my  soul  rejoiced  to  hear 
Full  in  the  forest  blow  the  tempest  drear, 
Or  midst  the  whirlwind  mark  tho  sturdy  oak 
Bend  to  the  blast,  or  rising  from  the  stroke. 
E'en  when  the  hills  their  wintry  horrors  wore, 
I  climbed  the  steep,  to  list'  tho  torrent's  roar  !  .  . . . 


COMPASIOX; 

'T  is  past :  now  flows  my  blood  with  laggard  pace. 
And  sensual  pleasures  to  the  soul  give  place. 
The  sweetest  spot  that  fond  retirement  knows, 
K  left  to  me  alone,  a  desert  grows. 


Whatever  joys  the  sylvan  scenes  prepare. 

Some  friend  be  near  that  may  that  pleasure  share. 


Shut,  then,  the  door  upon  tho  city  guest, 
That,  with  thy  game,  destroys  thy  time  and  rest ; 
But  for  thy  friend,  in  long  affection  tried. 
Adorn  tho  room  with  hospitable  pride ; 
Whether  some  neighbor,  kinsman,  or  his  son. 
Review  those  scenes  where  first  their  life  begun. 
Perhaps  some  sire,  in  life's  declining  year. 
Those  woods  revisits,  to  his  memory  dear. 
In  infant  days  that  planted  by  his  hand 
Now  wave  aloft  and  decorate  the  land. 
For  him  the  groves  a  smiling  aspect  wear. 
And  fields  and  flowers  his  transport  seem  to  share  ! 
Or  now  arrives  your  childhood's  earliest  friend, 
Pleased  'midst  your  harmless  scones  his  soul  t'  un- 
^Vhe^e  each  discovers,  as  around  he  looks,      [bend, 
His  usual  furniture,  and  favorite  books. 
Some  painter  next  is  there,  whose  magic  touch 
Each  landscape  doubles  that  you  prize  so  much, 
Or  else  delights  with  skilful  hand  to  traco 
The  well-known  features  of  some  much-loved  face. 
While  dearest  objects  thus  your  dwelling  fill, 
Your  friends,  though  absent,  give  enjoyment  still. 

THE  FLOWER-PLASTED  CRAVE.— THE  SWISS  CrSTOM. 

Nor  to  the  living  be  the  spot  confined. 
But  let  the  dead  with  thee  a  refuge  find. 
Near  yonder  stream,  where  bending  willows  wave, 
Of  some  lost  friend  prepare  the  peaceful  grave. 
There  shall  his  dust  more  tranquil  slumbers  know 
Than  'midst  the  marble's  monumental  show. 
Take  thou  the  good  Helvetian  for  thy  guide, 
That  near  some  Rrovc,  or  plaintive  rivulet's  side. 

His  friend  int.-.-,  I  ■-.  Hi-  -:.'i-l  -i  -"nd 

Bids  arbors  n-      ,.i,  i  :      .    :     v        i     i     ml. 
Tho  cherish.il    i    i  !  .  :     ■  i"il, 

And  with  it.^  .'n!!  ,.i.    •!,-  I.i-  :,-i  "  i  -i  "liile. 

In  fancy  breathing,  frum  the  friigr:int  ri)sc, 
The  soul  of  him  o'er  whom  tho  flow'ret  blows. 


Why  shouldst  thou  not  a  safe  asylum  yield 
To  those  whose  song  has  fertilijcd  the  field? 
A  peaceful  refuge  shall  not  Berghcm  gain'? 
A  bust  the  Mantuan  or  Sicilian  swain  ? 
For  mc,  alas  !  unworthy  yet  to  claim 
A  place  near  Berghem  or  near  Virgil's  name. 
If  chanco  some  generous  friend  should  deign  to  p 
A  modest  homage  to  my  sylvan  lay. 
Let  not  the  Poet  of  the  Fields  be  found 

I  Amidst  the  court  or  city's  busy  round. 
Ye  vales  and  uplands,  cherished  by  my  song, 

I  Grant  that  to  you  the  monument  belong  ! 
While  o'er  its  head  tho  branching  poplars  wavo, 

'  A  murmuring  etreamlct  should  its  basis  lave. 


RURAL    POETRY.- 


COMPLIMENT    TO   T 

My  VOWS  are  heard  :  on  ancient  Vistula's  side, 
Where  roamed  the  Sarmat  onco,  in  savage  pride, 
Of  roj'al  stem,  a  fair  and  warlike  race, 
That  in  retirement  give  the  country  grace. 
Amidst  their  bowers  have  taught  my  muse  to  hope 
A  tribute  with  Saint  Lambert,  Thomson,  Pope. 
How  shall  I  dare  the  proud  distinction  boast  ? 
'Midst  names  so  glorious  will  not  mine  be  lost? 
Is  there,  perchance,  some  unfrequented  spot, 
Some  distant  nook,  unnoticed  or  forgot, 
!Far,  far  from  Gesner,  or  the  Mautuan  bard? 
Hosts  of  the  scene,  for  me  the  asylum  guard. 
Glad  shall  I  see  you,  'midst  the  laughing  vales, 
Those  lessons  practise  which  my  muse  details. 
And,  while  dire  party's  troubled  waves  ye  break, 
Enrich  the  hamlet,  and  the  desert  deck  ; 
Happy,  should  Echo  from  her  green  retreat 
My  name,  my  homage,  and  my  lays,  repeat. 

DNION  OF     THE     HIGHER    AND     LOWER     CLASSES  BY  MUTUAL 

In  town  or  country  one  great  truth  be  known  : 
That  pleasure's  best,  which  is  not  all  our  own. 
Wretched  or  happy,  man  from  man  receives, 
And  lives  by  halves,  if  for  himself  he  lives. 
Ye  that  in  verdant  fields  no  pleasure  view, 
Learn  to  do  good,  and  pleasure  will  ensue. 
Amidst  the  city,  and  its  thronging  host. 
Riches  and  poverty  alike  are  lost ; 
But  where  industrious  Want  and  slothful  Pride, 
The  castle  and  the  cot,  are  side  by  side, 
A  contrast  sad  they  to  the  mind  present, 
And  'gainst  the  wealthy  rouse  the  indigent. 
Then  should  thy  bounty  cover  envy's  spite, 
Give  life  its  balance,  and  misfortune  right : 
Correct  the  seasons,  and  allow  the  poor 
That  field  to  glean  his  hands  have  furrowed  o'er  ; 
Fill  by  its  gifts  the  long,  though  useful,  space, 
That  into  different  ranks  divides  our  race. 


Where  canst  thou  else  more  strong  example  find, 
Than  in  the  fields,  to  rouse  the  generous  mind  ? 
There,  all  around  by  mutual  kindness  live  ; 
The  beasts  that  graze  the  field  its  fatness  give. 
Yon  tree,  that  moisture  from  the  soil  receives, 
Gives  to  the  mother  earth  its  dying  leaves  ; 
The  mountains  pour  the  torrent  o'er  the  lands, 
That  cools  the  air  ;  the  air  in  dew  expands. 
All  gives  and  takes,  all  serves,  and  all  enjoys  ! 
Man's  heart  alone  the  harmony  destroys  ! 


Observe  yon  heir,  that  rues  the  treacherous  die, 
Run  o'er  his  forests  with  exacting  eye  ; 
Without  a  tear  his  rich  domains  betray, 
And,  like  a  burthen,  cast  his  gold  away. 
Thy  gold  a  burthen  ?  —  Impudence  of  wealth  ! 
Why,  then,  does  Famine  sap  yon  infant's  health  ? 


Why,  then,  yon  widowed  dame,  with  pittance  scant  ? 
Yon  dowerless  maid,  or  sire  that  dies  for  want? 

WEALTH  MADE   A  BLESSING.  —  THE  WISE  EMPLOYER. 

0  !  had  it  pleased  \he  Tvill  of  bounteous  Heaven 
To  me  some  subject^hamlet  to  have  given, 
Full  happy  then,  and  worthy  to  be  so. 
Around  my  dome  should  plants  and  flow'rets  grow  ; 
The  richest  fruits  should  deck  the  teeming  soil, 
But  most  should  human  faces  round  me  smile. 
Never  should  Famine's  pale  and  haggard  mien 
Send  dismal  gloom  athwart  the  happy  scene. 
But  man  should  toil  :  the  ploughshare  and  the  spade, 
And  all  the  implements  of  rustic  trade, 
With  sure  reward  should  wait  the  industrious  hand, 
And  labor  banish  misery  from  the  land. 

Nor  that  suffice  :  let  sickness,  age,  and  pain, 
With  thee  a  sure  and  ready  succor  gain  : 
Select  the  smallest  of  thy  chambers  vast. 
Adorned  with  order,  neat  and  decent  taste  ; 
Let  it,  with  various  med'cines  amply  stored, 
To  want  diseased  a  constant  aid  afford. 
Sloth,  that  from  town-fatigue  his  visit  pays, 
Your  carpet,  mirrors,  and  saloon,  may  praise  ; 
But  this  retreat,  to  goodness  set  aparC^ 
Is  sacred  only  to  the  feeling  heart. 

CHILDREN  TACGHT   CHARITY. 

Oft  with  thy  bounties,  too,  thy  presence  show, 
And  thus  enhance  the  blessings  you  bestow  ; 
And  let  thy  children  there,  with  timid  air, 
To  timid  want  the  secret  offering  bear  : 
But  most  thy  daughter,  wearing  on  her  face 
The  first  of  beauties,  Virtue's  modest  grace, 
Should  to  the  wretched  like  an  angel  shine, 
And  pay  her  first-fruit  vows  at  Bounty's  shrine. 
Thy  offspring  thus,  with  whom  thy  features  grow, 
Thy  mind  and  manners  shall  in  image  show  : 
Their  richest  portion  your  example  gives  ; 
And,  reared  by  you,  their  infant  virtue  lives. 
Ye  worldly  men,  disgust  that  dearly  buy, 
These  pleasures  contemplate  with  jealous  eye. 


The  lowliest  clown,  beneath  the  cottage  straw. 
By  Fancy's  aid,  to  town  and  state  gives  law. 
Fed  by  no  error,  or  illusive  pride, 
I  ne'er  aspire  for  nations  to  decide  : 
Content  with  happiness  in  humble  state, 
Let  me  the  peaceful  village  regulate  ; 
And,  while  I  feel  the  fancied  empire  mine, 
Not  to  myself  alone  the  task  confine  : 
But  every  power  that  forms  the  scant  domain 
With  equal  efforts  shall  my  sway  maintain. 
Ye,  for  whose  help  I  write  the  village-law. 
Instead  of  rules  a  portrait  let  me  draw. 


Seest  thou  you  parsonage-house,  of  modest  site  ? 
'here  lives  the  man  of  God  :  in  holy  rite 


SUMMER  —  AUGUST. 


He  bids  the  village  prayers  to  heaven  arise, 
And  opens  all  the  trciisuro  of  the  skies  ; 
Ho  comforts  want,  Iwill.iw?  Ilir  iiiiirrinse  '""'i 
And  over  fruiti  uii.l  ll-u.i-  l,i.  M, -in-s  spread  ; 

He  teaches  good,  i.  o  nr.  m,. tlio  womb, 

Guides  him  throu^'li  lilV'.  ainl  i..ll..ws  to  the  tomb. 


Forbear  to  choose,  for  this  sublimer  post. 
The  man  in  vile  intrigue  and  avarice  lost, 
Who,  elsewhere  stern,  indulgent  to  himself. 
Deserts  a  humble  cure  for  abject  pelf  ; 
Whose  manners  base  Religion's  chair  defile. 
Who  to  the  day  adapts  his  courtly  style. 

THE  FilTEFCL  PiSTOR. 

The  faithful  pastor,  to  his  parish  dear, 
Is  like  yon  elm,  that  many  a  rolling  year, 
Beneath  its  shade's  hereditary  reign. 
Has  heard  the  gambols  of  the  rustic  train  ; 
Whose  branches  green,  that  over  time  prevail. 
Have  seen  the  children  rise,  the  father  fail : 
If  counsel  sage  or  bounty  he  dispense. 
He 's  to  his  flock  another  providence. 
What  secret  want  escapes  his  searching  aid? 
God  only  knows  the  happy  he  has  made. 
In  those  retreats  where  want,  disease,  and  pain. 
Dismay,  and  death,  their  dreadful  sway  maintain. 
Docs  he  appear?  lo  !  Terror  takes  his  flight, 
And  Death  and  Horror  lose  the  power  to  fright. 
Esteemed  by  wealth,  and  by  the  wretched  blest. 
He  hinders  guilt  by  aiding  the  distrest  ; 
And  rivals  oft,  with  fiercest  hate  that  bum. 
Meet  at  his  table,  and  in  peace  return. 

WBALTH  SHOULD   CHRRISn   RBLIGIOK. — THE  VILLAGE  PASTOR. 

Respect  his  toils  ;  and  let  your  generous  care 
His  modest  house,  devoid  of  pomp,  prepare. 
Within,  by  virtue's  richest  treasure  graced  ; 
Without,  adorned  with  neat  and  simplest  taste. 
Partake  with  him  the  produce  of  thy  grounds  ; 
And  be  his  altar  with  thy  offerings  crowned. 
In  holy  league  for  mutual  good  combined. 
With  his  instructions  be  thy  actions  joined. 
Not  Rome,  triumphant  o'er  the  world  that  rose, 
A  nobler  scene  could  to  the  sight  disclose. 
Than  does  the  village,  by  its  reverend  guide 
And  virtuous  sage  relieved  and  edified  ! 
The  sage's  bounty  and  the  pastor's  prayer 
Drive  from  the  cottage  misery  and  despair. 


Resides  there  not  a  second  power  here, 
"Whose  looks  the  rustic  long  has  learned  to  fear? 
Descend,  my  muse,  nor  yet  debate  thy  strain. 
And  paint  the  pedant  of  the  village  train. 
Nor  that  suffice,  but  let  thy  prudent  lay 
Attach  due  honor  to  his  useful  sway. 
He  comes  at  length  in  consequential  state. 
And  self-importance  marks  his  solemn  gait. 
Read,  write,  and  count,  't  is  certain  ho  can  do  ; 


Instruct  at  school,  and  sing  at  ehnpol  too  ; 
Foresee  the  changing  moon  and  tempest  dread. 
And  e'en  in  Latin  once  some  progress  made  : 
In  learned  disputes  still  firm  and  valiant  found. 
Though  vanquished,  still  ho  acorns  to  quit  the  ground ; 
Whilst,  wisely  used  to  gather  time  and  strength. 
His  crabbed  words  prolong  their  laggard  length. 
The  rustics  gaze  around,  and  scarce  suppose 
That  one  poor  brain  could  carry  all  ho  knows. 
But  in  his  school,  to  each  neglect  severe. 
So  much  to  him  is  learning's  progress  dear, 
Comes  he  ?  upon  his  smooth  or  rutlied  brow 
His  infant  tribe  their  destiny  may  know. 
He  nods,  they  part  ;  again,  and  they  assemble  : 
Smile,  if  he  laughs  ;  and  if  he  frowns,  they  tremble. 
He  soothes  or  menaces,  as  best  befits. 
And  now  chastises,  or  he  now  acquits. 
E'en  when  away,  his  wary  subjects  fear. 
Lest  the  unseen  bird  should  whisper  in  his  ear 
Who  laughs  or  talks,  or  slumbers  o'er  his  book. 
Or  from  what  hand  the  ball  his  visage  struck. 


Nor  distant  far  the  birch  is  seen  to  rise  — 
The  birch,  that  heeds  not  their  imploring  cries. 
If  chance  the  breeze  its  boughs  should  lightly  shake. 
With  pale  affright  tho  puny  urchins  quake. 
Thus,  gentle  Chanonat,  beside  thy  bed,    [dread  ;  — 
I  've  touched  that  tree,  my  childhood's  friend  and 
That  willow-tree,  whose  tributary  spray 
Armed  my  stern  pedant  with  his  sceptred  sway. 

Such  is  the  master  of  the  village-school  : 
Be  it  thy  eare  to  dignify  his  rule. 
The  wise  man  learns  each  rank  to  appreciate  ; 
But  fools  alone  despise  the  humbler  state. 
In  spite  of  pride,  in  office,  great  or  low, 
Be  modest  one,  and  one  importance  know. 
Be  by  himself  his  post  an  honor  deemed  : 
He  must  esteem  himself  to  be  esteemed. 

CH  HAS  niS   CHARACTKniSTICS  ;    CATO. 


What  pleasing  sights  does  yonder  group  create  ! 
Their  infant  sports,  their  contest,  and  debate. 
Man  loves  to  see,  as  ripened  wisdom  grows. 
Its  fruits  enrich  the  soil  from  whence  it  rose. 
But  who  can  view,  nor  secret  pleasure  know. 
Life  yet  in  bud,  and  manhood  on  the  blow? 
'T  is  then  that  man 's  himself  :  no  artful  guise 
Spreads  o'er  his  young  desire  its  treacherous  dyes. 
One,  smarting  still  from  chastisement  severe, 
Docile  and  mild,  forgets  the  short-lived  tear  j 
Stung  by  the  affront,  a  smile  his  anger  charms. 
And  to  returning  love  his  bosom  warms. 
A  second,  firm  alike  in  hate  or  love. 
No  prayers  appease,  and  no  caresses  move  : 
Silent  he  stands,  with  stern  and  downcast  eyes. 
And  every  proffered  gift  with  scorn  denies. 
E'en  so  in  Cato's  infant  years  we  find 
The  haughty  firmness  of  his  manly  mind. 


270 


RURAL    POETRY. 


Amidst  their  pastimes,  let  tliine  eye  explore 
The  sports  where  instinct  first  begins  to  soar  ; 
Where  various  talents  in  assemblage  found, 
One  turns  the  historian  of  the  country  round. 
A  second  Euclid  on  the  dusty  soil 
Draws  squares  and  circles,  which  the  winds  despoil ; 
With  charcoal  pencil  here  a  Rubens  stands  ; 
Or  infant  Chevert  ranks  his  warrior  bands  : 
On  yonder  side,  with  meditating  air, 
A  rival  Boileau,  Pascal,  or  Moliere. 
Ho  now  content  through  wheeling  rounds  to  urge 
The  spinning  box,  that  groans  beneath  the  scourge, 
In  future  day,  perhaps,  with  critic  zeal, 
Shall  bid  our  erring  bards  his  lashes  feel  ! 
Another,  too,  with  Mole,  Preville's  skill, 
Of  fop  or  clown  the  mimic  part  may  fill. 
A  Pope  or  Locke  but  wait  the  fostering  hand 
Of  some  kind  friend,  their  genius  to  expand  :  — 
As  yonder  flower,  expecting  to  be  born. 
The  solar  ray,  or  dewy  tear  of  morn. 
He  now  delights,  nor  tliinks  of  future  fame, 
To  see  the  pebble,  which  his  fingers  aim. 
Skim  on  the  wave,  by  turns  descend  and  rise  ; 
Or  mark  his  kite,  that  flutters  near  the  skies. 


The  germ  of  genius  let  your  care  pursue, 
Should  some  good  chance  present  it  to  your  view. 
Reared  and  protected  by  your  kindly  aid. 
The  rustic  plant  shall  spread  its  rising  shade  ; 
On  you  at  length  its  choicest  fruits  bestow  : 
Sweeter  to  him  that  made  the  sapling  grow. 

GHOST-STORIES   PERNICIOUS  TO   CHILDHOOD. 

Nor  prejudice,  nor  superstitious  dread. 
Amongst  the  children  of  thy  care  should  spread. 
Nor  distant  far  the  time,  when  all  around 
With  midnight  sprites  each  village  did  abound  : 
Each  castle  near  its  ghost  or  goblin  knew. 
And  every  hamlet  had  its  sorcerer  too  ; 
When  babbling  age,  with  long  and  dreary  tale. 
Broke  the  soft  quiet  of  her  nursling  pale  : 
But  most,  when  near  the  nightly  taper's  gloom 
The  hour  of  evening  bade  the  village  come,  — 
Some  story  sad,  of  midnight  ghosts  that  spoke, 
Still  close  and  closer  drew  the  frightened  folk. 
Let  none  these  fictions  to  thy  charge  rehearse, 
Offspring  of  Prejudice,  and  Error's  nurse  : 
But  rather  tell  them  how  the  reaper's  care 
Leaves  for  the  gleaner's  want  the  scattered  ear  ; 
Of  pious  duties,  and  the  secret  hand 
That  feeds  the  orphan,  blasts  the  murderous  band. 


While  thus  thy  bounty  bids  the  village  live, 
Doctrine  to  youth,  to  age  assistance  give  ; 
Nor  that  be  all  ;  but  let  some  harmless  joy 
The  vacant  hour  on  festivals  employ. 
Scarce  can  the  muse  believe  that  barbarous  pride 


Would  have  these  comforts  to  the  poor  denied  ; 

These  days,  say  they,  with  barren  leisure  joined, 

By  useless  pleasure  are  from  toil  purloined. 

Thus  would  their  kindness  to  the  poor  dispense 

Excess  of  labor  for  their  recompense  ! 

Why  shouldst  thou  grieve  that  the  laborious  hind 

On  solemn  days  some  relaxation  find  ? 

Why  damp  his  music,  or  the  rustic  lay. 

Or  grudge  the  village-maid  her  neat  array  ? 

Lot  them,  at  least,  in  recompense  for  pain, 

Some  share  of  life  and  happiness  obtain. 

Their  simple  mirth,  encouraged  still  by  thee. 
Even  now  in  Fancy's  perspective  I  see. 
Grant  me,  some  power,  a  share  of  Teniers'  skill, 
To  paint  the  pleasures  which  the  circle  fill ! 


Two  veterans  here  relate  with  proud  delight 
Their  past  amours,  or  actions  in  the  fight  ; 
One  tells  his  rank,  or  in  what  bloody  fray 
Himself  and  Saxe  alone  had  gained  the  day  ! 

SWINGING. 

Whilst  Egle  near,  suspended  in  the  air. 
Looks  from  the  swinging  cord  with  dizzy  fear  : 
The  frolic  zephyr  through  her  garment  blows. 
That  modesty  is  anxious  to  compose. 

BALL-PLAT. 

On  yonder  circle  green,  the  reeling  bowl 
Pursues  its  rival  to  the  distant  go.al ! 
The  skilful  umpire,  kneeling  o'er  the  place. 
Measures  the  distance,  and  decides  the  space. 
There,  too,  the  elastic  racquet's  aid  denied. 
The  bandied  ball  is  tost  from  side  to  side. 
Two  active  rivals  here  contend  for  fame  ; 
They  start  ;  a  shout  proclaims  the  victor's  nami 


On  yonder  side,  launched  on  with  sudden  force. 
The  rolling  ball  attacks  in  rapid  course 
The  wooden  cones,  arranged  along  the  plain. 
That  falling  oft  as  often  rise  again. 
Sometknes,  with  eye  that  marks  each  interval. 
The  wary  player  meditates  their  fall  : 
Long  time  he  threatens  ere  the  ball  is  thrown  ; 
At  length  determines,  and  the  nine  are  down. 


Here  skilful  archers  draw  the  bending  yew. 
And  for  their  mark  the  trembling  pigeon  view. 
The  first  but  glances  on  the  fluttering  wing  ; 
A  second  takes  his  aim,  and  cuts  the  string  ; 
But  vain  the  pigeon's  flight  ;  with  rapid  eye 
A  third  o'ertakes  him  soaring  to  the  sky  ;        [boat. 
Wheeling   through  air,  his    blood-stained  pinions 
And  bring  the  arrow  to  the  victor's  feet. 

THE  RUSTIC  DANCE. 

Near  yonder  church,  beneath  the  elm-tree's  shade. 
The  village  youth  their  meeting-place  have  made  : 


SUMMER  —  AUaUST. 


271 


The  fiddlo  sounds  ;  the  rustic  train  advance 
Through  all  the  measures  of  the  mazy  dance, 
Whilst  many  a  heart  betrays  the  furtive  heave, 
And  frolic  Love  preludes  to  Hymen  grave  ; 
Each  tries  to  show  his  vigor  or  his  gra«e, 
And  sparkling  pleasure  lights  up  every  face. 
Their  sports  are  harmless,  and  their  joys  they  pay. 
Since  e'en  repose  drives  idleness  away. 

PCBLIC  DESEPACT0B3. 

Ye,  by  whose  gift  these  short  enjoyments  live, 
Te  taste  the  rapture  that  your  bounties  give  : 
Blest,  ye  unite  upon  the  happy  spot 
The  rich  and  poor,  the  castle  and  the  cot ; 
New  pleasures  ye  create,  and  comfort  pain  ; 
Of  social  life  ye  nearer  draw  the  chain  ; 
And,  pleased  with  all,  of  no  regret  afraid,     [made. 
With  God  pronounce,  That 's  good  which  I   have 


'IrRil  — the  author.  Culture,  wonders  of.  Manners  va- 
rious. AuecUote.  Modish  culture  ridiculous.  Imitation 
of  foreign  manners  servile.  Exotics  to  be  encouraged. 
Beasts  that  degenerate  in  strange  climates.  Country 
scenes,  pleasures  of.  Author's  wishes  disappointed. 
Kocks  blown  up.  Artful  soils.  Oemenos,  description  of. 
Waters,  benefits  arising  flrom.  Lima,  description  of. 
Languedoc,  canal  of.  Achelous,  allegory  of.  Holland,  la- 
bors of.  Ji^geria :  episode. 


DLESSISGS  or  KCBAI.  1 


-  CmL  WAB.  —  VIRGIL'S    BTOAL 
rs  BBSTOKED. 

Thrice  blest  the  man  from  public  storms  aloof, 
That  loves  tho  shelter  of  his  cottage-roof  ; 
In  sweet  retirement  shuns  tho  general  view, 
Improves  his  garden,  arts,  and  virtue  too. 
Thus,  when  the  stern  Triumvir's  blood-stainod  hand 
Spread  dreadful  ruin  o'er  the  Roman  land. 
The  Mantuan  bard,  while  party  billows  rolled. 
His  sylvan  loves  to  ravished  Echo  told. 
Who  then  had  dared  with  war's  tumultuous  sound 
Tho  peaceful  dwelling  of  his  muse  surround  7 
When  Rome,  at  length  respiring  from  her  toils, 
Beneath  a  milder  reign  forgot  her  broils. 
The  world's  great  master  saw  him,  at  his  feet, 
His  field  paternal  from  his  gift  entreat  ; 
Soon,  soon  again  from  courtly  scones  removed, 
By  Pan  and  every  rural  god  beloved. 
Near  the  bright  lake  with  silver  swans  o'erspread. 
Ho  trod  the  verdure  of  the  Mantuan  mead. 
Here  'midst  tho  peaceful  groves  and  wandering  herd 
Soft  o'er  the  reed  his  tuneful  voice  was  heard. 
While  with  the  music  of  his  dulcet  song 
To  rural  bliss  he  drew  tho  mind  along. 

THE  APTHOR'S  RinUL  CHOICE. 

Like  him,  alas  !  of  birthright  land  bereaved, 
I  leave  to  God  the  little  I  received  ; 
Like  him,  to  groves  from  civil  discord  flown, 
I  shun  the  tumult  of  the  frantic  town. 
Pleased  if  my  Muse,  that  loves  the  sylvan  strain. 
Instruct  the  labor  of  th'  industrious  swain. 


Yo  then,  who  fain,  profaning  his  retreat. 
Would  change  tho  poet  to  the  man  of  state, 
Forbear  tho  progress  of  your  ill-timed  views. 
Nor  break  tho  leisure  of  my  tranciuil  Muse. 
Rather,  like  Ca;sar  to  tho  Mantuan  bard. 
With  duo  respect  his  follower  reward. 
Poor  and  unknown,  of  freedom  let  me  dream, 
Lulled  by  the  sounding  lyre  or  bubbling  stream. 

POETRY    ANO     FARMING.  —  TRirMPHS    Of    AGRlCCLTrRlL 

No  more  my  Muse,  confined  to  Virgil's  trace, 
Gives  Roman  lessons  to  the  Gallic  race, 
But,  boldly  daring  in  herself  confide. 
Her  footstep  ventures  on  a  way  untried. 
In  native  strains  her  much-loved  art  to  sing. 
And  deck  the  ploughshare  with  the  flowers  of  Spring. 
No  more  in  hackneyed  numbers  shall  bo  found 
Tho  vulgar  methods  to  enrich  tho  ground  ; 
No  more  I  tell  beneath  what  prosperous  sign 
To  plant  the  sapling,  or  to  wed  tho  vine  ; 
Where  olives  thrive,  or  in  what  happy  soil 
Ceres  may  flourish,  or  Pomona  smile. 

WONOEBS  OF  CCLTIVATIOS. 

Since  countless  wonders  Culture  now  displays, 
I  leave  her  labors,  and  those  wonders  praise  ; 
Her  efforts  vast,  the  bounty  of  her  hand. 
Her  potent  causes,  and  effects  as  grand  ; 
No  more  the  simple  power  our  fathers  knew 
She  deigns  each  ancient  maxim  to  pursue  ; 
Like  some  enchantre!^.s,  with  her  magic  wand. 
In  treasures  new  >\>v  link--  tlir  MiiiliiiL'  himl  ; 
Subdues  the  ru.-k,  .md  •  I'iiIm-  iIh'  iih 
Fattens  the  suil,  mii'I  i;nr-  it>  uil-priiii;  ;;r;ief  ; 
Frees  from  their  chain  the  l<)Ilg-iInIlri^uned  tides. 
And  streams  astonished  to  each  other  guides  : 
Her  magic  power,  triumphant  over  times. 
Together  blends  or  seasons,  worlds,  or  climes. 


niSTOBV   . 

When  primal  man  first  tilled  tho  fruitless  soil. 
No  plans  were  known  to  fertilize  his  toil  : 
Without  distinction,  or  on  mount  or  plain. 
His  careless  hand  dispersed  tho  useful  grain  : 
Till  taught  at  length,  by  Time's  instructing  aid, 
Each  trco  its  country  knew  ;  each  soil  its  seed. 
Go  further,  thou,  and  dare,  with  bolder  view 
Tho  ground  correcting.  Nature's  self  subdue. 

UANCBISO.  —  LIHISO.  —  MAELISO,  ETC. 

Du  Hamel's  rival,  to  thyself  assure 
Tho  fruitful  virtues  of  tho  rich  manure.. 
A  speedy  nurture  do  thy  fields  demand  ? 
The  lime  and  marl  are  ready  to  thy  hand  : 
Or  ashes  now,  or  what  thy  dove-house  yields. 
Let  cautious  Prudence  strew  along  thy  fields  ; 
Tho  fertile  litter  of  thy  cattle's  range 
From  ordure  vile  to  richest  juice  shall  change. 

jnXISO  OP  SOILS.— Cn-TCRE  COINS  OOLn. 

Here  wouldst  thou  feed  the  hunger  of  thy  lam 
Blend  the  fat  clay  amidst  the  cutting  sand  j 


272 


RURAL    POETRY.- 


Or  that  the  plough  the  stubborn  loom  may  bend, 
The  sand  alternate  should  its  succor  lend. 
Ye  fools,  that  brooding  o'er  a  fancied  prize, 
Expect  from  ehymic  toil  that  gold  will  rise, 
Drive  such  chimeras  from  your  empty  mind  ; 
In  culture's  furrow  ye  must  treasure  find. 
The  earth  thy  crucible,  Sol's  potent  heat 
Shall  warm  thy  furnace,  and  thy  toils  complete  ; 
AVithin  the  bosom  of  the  teeming  ground 
The  real  gold  of  alchemy  is  found. 

THE  SCCCKSSFDL  FAEMER.  —  THE  WITCHCRAFT  OP  SPADE  ASI 

A  toilsome  swain,  that  taught  the  fattened  field, 
With  grateful  kindness,  double  crops  to  yield. 
Skilled  in  the  fruitful  art  of  Albion's  isle, 
Fallowed,  concocted,  and  composed  the  soil  : 
New  meadows  rose  beneath  his  careful  hand. 
And  richest  sainfoin  blossomed  o'er  his  land  ; 
His  new-born  flow'rets  bloomed  with  double  crown, 
And  Autumn's  season  blushed  with  fruits  unknown. 
No  rest  he  knew,  till,  by  his  labor  tired, 
Th'  exhausted  soil  some  interval  required. 
An  envious  neighbor  marked  his  rising  store. 
Charged  him  with  witdi. 1:111,  ,,,.1  (..  iu.Ununt  bore. 
He  there  displays,  insti  :i.i     :  .     ,      ,:,ims 

His  rakes,  his  harrow,  am:  l.i.  1  ,,.,i    .,;  1,,.  ■. 
'  Behold  ! '  cries  he,  •  tbo  only  mis  1  use  ! ' 
He  spoke,  and  well-deserved  applause  ensues. 
His  potent  skill,  that  late  the  earth  subdued. 
Alike  triumphant  over  envy  stood. 

PURSUE  APPROVED   METHODS  IN   FARMING ROZIER. 

Follow  his  secret  ;  let  thy  skilful  hand. 
Correcting  Nature,  change  th'  improving  land. 
That  rural  wealth  with  added  store  may  shine. 
To  ancient  use  thy  own  instructions  join  ; 
Nor  lured  by  novelty  or  servile  mode. 
On  useless  essays  be  thy  time  bestowed. 
Let  the  proud  upstart  rail  with  idle  breath 
Against  the  rules  our  forefathers  bequeath  ; 
To  him  the  .system  leave,  by  Rozier  planned. 
Fertile  on  paper,  in  the  closet  grand  : 
To  modish  swains  their  new-found  arts  allow. 
Their  neat  utensils,  and  their  tasty  plough. 
Their  farm  in  miniature,  and  secrets  vain 
The  Mercury  '  loves,  and  Ceres  must  disdain  ; 
Leaving  to  them  their  self-created  rules. 
Respect  the  practice  of  our  ancient  schools. 


riNGUISH  BETWEEN  : 


HPEOVEMENTS. 


Yet  shun  extremes,  nor  let  thy  servile  care 
Too  close  a  copy  of  our  fathers  bear  ; 
Give  new  resources  to  the  rustic  art. 
Try  other  schemes,  and  other  views  impart. 
AVho  knows  what  meed  thy  labor  may  await, 
What  fruits  unknown  thy  conquests  may  create  ! 
Of  old,  the  rose  on  lowly  bramble  sprung. 
While  high  in  air  the  ruddy  apple  hung  ! 
Now,  strange  reverse  !  the  rose-tree  climbs  the  skiei 
While  scarce  from  earth  our  apple-trees  arise  ! 
1  A  French  newspaper  so  called. 


What  various  flowers,  in  richest  colors  gay, 
With  double  crown  their  proud  festoons  display. 
More  wouldst  thou  do  ?     Sent  from  their  distant 
Give  foreign  conaorta  to  thy  native  race  :       [place, 

PATRIOTISM  SHOULD  VALUE  NATIVE  PRODUCTS   AND    FASHIONS. 

But  shun  the  man,  whose  proud  disgust  and  scorn 
Detest  those  treasures  which  at  home  are  born  ; 
Who  feels  no  joy,  though,  spreading  to  the  air, 
His  pompous  trees  their  verdant  branches  rear, 
Unless  from  Afric's  soil  their  rise  they  boast. 
From  India's  deserts  or  Columbia's  coast. 
When  Paris  late,  with  wishes  still  misplaced, 
Of  rival  London  caught  the  reigning  taste. 
Our  town  and  court,  our  houses  and  the  scene. 
Each  paid  its  tribute  to  the  humor  mean  ; 
Inventors  once  to  clumsy  copies  sunk, 
Our  clubs  with  punch  and  politics  were  drunk  ; 
Beneath  the  awkward  jockey  horses  groaned. 
And  each  his  whiskey,  tea,  and  vapors  owned  ; 
While  proud  Versailles  the  public  rage  partook, 
Our  banished  arts  their  native  rights  forsook. 

Between  our  garden  and  the  English  park, 
I'm  still  suspended  when  their  scenes  I  mark  : 
Not  that  my  muse  the  latter  would  suppress  ; 
She  loves  its  practice,  but  proscribes  excess. 
Struck  with  the  beauty  of  our  Gallic  trees, 
Spite  of  their  antique  forms,  that  still  can  please, 
The  skilful  farmer  from  his  verdant  woods 
Nor  oak  or  beeches  or  the  elm  excludes. 
But  if  some  foreign  tree,  of  noble  size. 
With  boughs  majestic  should  adorn  the  skies. 
Our  forest  natives,  with  attention  meet 
And  hospitable  care,  the  stranger  greet ;        [make, 
Pleased  'mongst    themselves   his   future   dwelling 
Not  for  his  scarceness,  but  his  beauty's  sake  ; 
If  haply  profit  too  should  join  with  grace. 
To  civic  honors  they  admit  his  race. 
From  Alpine  heights  the  cytisus  is  seen  ; 
Thus  o'er  our  streams  do  eastern  willows  lean 
In  pensive  guise  ;   whose  grief-inspiring  shade 
Love  has  to  Melancholy  sacred  made  : 
The  stately  poplars  o'er  our  fields  that  grow 
Admit  their  brethren  from  the  distant  Po  ; 
No  more  the  cedar  to  the  turban  bends  ; 
For  us  the  imperial  tree  from  Lebanon  descends. 

PLANTING     OF     FOREST     TREES.  —  BACH     TREE     RECALLS     ITS 

Cheered  by  the  prospect  of  your  vassal  trees. 
How  shall  your  walks  amidst  the  country  please  ! 
Through  them  thy  thought,  that  wanders  from  its 
To  distant  climates  shall  in  safety  roam.        [home. 
Yon  verdant  pines,  that  midst  the  Winter  smile. 
Offspring  of  Scotia  or  Virginia's  soil, 
The  world's  extremes  within  their  branches  joined. 
To  either  hemisphere  convey  thy  mind  : 
The  thuyau '  gives  you  China's  fruitful  lands. 
And  where  Judaia's  '  tree  its  bloom  expands 

1  Like  our  arbor-vitas.  2  The  Judas-tree. 


SUMMER  —  AUGUST. 


273 


Of  purplo  huo,  to  Fancy's  eye  it  shows 
Tlio  fertile  banlis  where  hnllowcd  Jordan  flows. 
Wliile  daily  thus  you  soil  and  climate  change, 
O'er  rude  or  polished  scenes  alike  you  range  ; 
Each  plant  you  see  presents  a  country  new, 
And  every  thought  affords  a  voyage  too. 

KDCOATIOS  OF  TBBBS  ASD  OF  CniLDRES  C0MP4RBD. 

Thrico  blest  the  man,  whom  subject  woods  sur- 

Or  when  with  foreign  trees  ho  decks  his  ground, 
Or  when  his  skill  or  industry  improves 
The  native  beauty  of  his  country  groves. 
Each  tree  a  child,  your  aid  their  weakness  rears, 
Directs  their  youth,  and  tends  their  drooping  years: 
Their  different  bents  you  mark  with  studious  eye  ; 
Their  laws  you  give  ;  their  manners  you  supply  : 
Correcting  thus  their  tiow'rets,  fruits,  and  leaves. 
Your  potent  hand  Creation's  work  achieves. 


I  OF  ANIMALS. 


If  equal  care  thy  bestial  troop  should  find. 
New  strength  and  beauty  shall  adorn  their  kind. 
Attend  their  offspring,  and  their  dams  select  ; 
The  marks  of  breed  encourage  or  reject ; 
To  those  who  bless  thee  with  their  native  stores. 
Adjoin  a  different  race  from  different  shores. 
But  to  the  spot  adapt  thy  careful  toil ; 
Nor  force  the  stranger  to  desert  his  soil. 
That  sullen  still,  as  if  to  mock  thy  pain. 
Denies  to  couple  with  his  kindred  train  ; 
Or  else,  descending  from  his  primal  race. 
Forgets  the  Uncage  which  he  ought  to  trace. 
Yon  Indian  fowl,  whose  beauties,  once  so  gay. 
But  ill  the  horrors  of  his  cage  repay, 
Yields  to  the  bird,  that,  warbling  midst  our  grove 
Nestles  with  us,  and  woos  his  sylvan  loves. 


Moved  from  the  precinct  of  his  native  plains, 
With  us  the  tiger  still  his  bride  disdains  : 
The  lion,  too,  with  blood  of  boiling  heat, 
Loathes  the  caresses  of  his  tawny  mate. 
Transport  our  dogs  to  Afric's  sultry  coast. 
Changing  alike,  their  voice  and  marks  are  lost. 
Our  dames  in  Asia  keep  their  milk  suppressed. 
And  trust  their  infant  to  an  Indian  breast. 


Adopt  those  tribes  alone  whose  yielding  bent 
Is  with  your  climate  and  your  fields  content : 
Deserting  thus  Helvetia's  rocky  heights. 
The  wanton  heifer  with  our  bull  unites  ; 
Tlie  venturous  kid  that  climbs  the  mountain's  breast 
Clings  to  our  cliffs,  and  leaves  his  native  east ; 
While  richest  flocks,  from  Spain  or  Afric's  shore. 
Train  near  the  British  ram  their  fleecy  store. 
Here  through  our  forest  neighs  the  Barb'ry  steed. 
Or  Albion's  race-mare  bounds  along  the  mead  ; 
Their  offspring  near,  that  frolic  o'er  the  grass. 
By  turns  pursue,  by  turns  each  other  pass. 


With  mutual  challenge  lead  the  rival  chase. 
And  weave  the  mazes  of  their  sportive  race. 

THE  QllET,  noPKFrL  UPB  OP  THE  RRTUllfD   AOniCrLTTRIST. 

Ye  blissful  sighta  !  ye  landscapes  ever  gay  ! 
What  scene  with  yours  shall  equal  charms  display  ? 
0  !  if  my  latter  days  by  bounteous  Ileaven 
Free  to  my  own  disposal  had  been  given, 
Next  to  the  solace  of  my  peaceful  muse 
Delightful  culture  should  my  life  amuse. 
Is  there  a  sweeter  toil,  where  calm,  yet  still  employed, 
Each  modest  wish  is  by  the  sago  enjoyed  ; 
Around  his  gardens  and  his  waving  grain. 
His  bending  orchards  and  his  fleecy  train  ; 
Where'er  his  wandering  footsteps  he  shall  guide. 
Still  brightreyed  Hope  is  smiling  at  his  side. 
He  marks  the  vine-shoot  cling  around  its  stay, 
Or  for  the  fruit  that  ripens  on  the  day. 
Or  budding  flow'rets,  struggling  to  be  born. 
He  courts  the  clouds  of  eve,  or  dew  of  morn, 
Or  noon-day  mists  ;  while,  as  their  treasures  ope, 
His  doubts  and  fears  give  added  gust  to  hope. 
While  gifts  or  promises  around  him  pour, 
He  sows  or  waits,  collects  or  counts  his  store. 

THE  ACrnOtt'S  aCRAL  WTSDES. 


How  ilciir  my  flow'rets,  and  my  cooling  shade  ! 
What  liittening  flocks  along  my  pasture  strayed  ! 
All  laughed  around  mo,  and  my  fancy  dreams 
O'orflowed  with  fields  of  corn  and  milky  streams  ! 


Short-lived  chimeras  !  impotent  and  vain  ! 
The  broils  of  state,  that  o'er  my  country  reign. 
Have  left  mo  nothing  but  my  sylvan  reed. 
Adieu,  my  flocks,  ray  fruits,  and  flowery  mead  1 
Ye  {proves  of  Pindus,  shades  forever  green, 
Trans|i(irt  me  now  to  your  poetic  scene  ! 
If  I'ntf  forbids  to  cultivate  the  plains. 
To  them  at  least  I  consecrate  my  strains  : 
Each  rustic  god  his  prosperous  aid  supplies. 
The  mountains  listen,  and  the  wood  replies. 


NATURAL  DISADVANTAGES  TO  BE  CONQrERED  BV  ART.  — TOE 

Like  me,  enamored  of  the  sylvan  art, 
Of  sylvan  honors  wouldst  thou  claim  thy  part. 
Let  not  thy  efforts  seek  a  worthless  meed  ; 
The  fields  to  combat  and  to  conquest  lead. 
Sccst  thou  yon  barren  hill,  that,  southward  turned, 
Feels  its  bare  rock  by  raging  Phcebus  burned  ! 
Haste  to  its  aid  ;  and  let  thy  useful  toil 
From  sterile  cliffs  create  a  fruitful  soil. 
Wide  o'er  its  vanquished  steep  to  plant  the  vine. 
Mars,  lend  thy  thunder  to  the  god  of  wine  ! 


35 


274 


RURAL    POETRY. DELILLE. 


The  martial  process  bids  tlie  mountain  shake, 
Burnt  to  its  entrails  ;  while  in  tliunilers  break 
Its  bursting  sides  ;    tniii  I i  Hnn   iialur  l.r.l, 

The  splintere.l  mrk-  il„  ,,     m.  I  ,    ium,    |.i.:,.|; 
But  soon  the  ^\>nt.  w  idi  .  In  .  i !  nl  \  m.  \  ,i  i  ^N  .  r,,\v 
Smiles  from  tlle  1m  ^w  i\  Ihi  -■  >l  ,11-  l,,l,.ie  had  Iruw 

And  sweetest  nr>  I. M  ,  n- -  innt  reeeiveU, — 

Sweeter  to  thee  ;i- li\  ili\  i^il  :tiliie\-ed, — 
Shall  bid  thy  trie 
With  orgies  gay  1 


On  yonder  side,  a  lose  and  moving  land, 
Swept  by  the  waves,  and  at  the  winds'  command, 
Shows  to  the  saddening  view  a  barren  tract  ; 
Yet  e'eu  from  this  thou  tribute  mayst  exact, 
If,  bold  corrector  of  the  meagre  coast, 
Thy  art  o'er  Nature  may  its  conquest  boast. 
Thus  Malta's  soil  has  early  learnt  to  smile 
With  verdure  borrowed  from  another  isle  : 
Its  rock,  renowned  for  deeds  of  bold  emprise. 
That  sees  afar  the  smokes  of  Mtaa,  rise, 
Received  its  soil  from  fertile  Enna's  plains  ; 
So  smiles  Sicilia  through  her  rich  domains. 
The  distant  ground,  that  seas  incessant  lave. 
Loosed  from  its  hold  and  floating  o'er  the  wave. 
Clung  to  thecliff;  when,  lo  !  the  barren  earth. 
Which  scarce  sufficed  to  give  the  rosemary  birth, 
By  dint  of  art,  upon  its  burning  side 
Produced  the  fig  and  melon's  juicy  pride  ; 
Or  ambered  raisins,  that  perfume  the  soene  ; 
Or  orange-groves,  with  boughs  forever  green. 
There  laurels  only  without  culture  grow. 
Reflected  gayly  from  the  lake  below. 
The  rock,  so  long  by  summer's  heat  consumed. 
At  length  its  autumn  and  its  spring  assumed. 


Dare,  if  thou  canst,  this  prosperous  toil  pursue  ! 
Enrich  the  cliffs,  where  never  verdure  grew, 
With  lowland  sr.il  ;   ?n  shall  a  fruitful  stock 
Conceal  t!ie  -:idii.--  ui'  llie  naked  rock  ; 

But  ivlirn  thr  Hind, i  seas  e.\ert  their  rage, 

Let  Inwd.iiilt  \\;d]>  rjje  (head  attack  assuage. 
0  !  hiugliing  ticmenos,'  with  pleasures  crowned, 
So  from  thy  sides  the  vine-tree  nods  around.; 
The  flg  and  olive,  amorous  of  thy  land. 
Their  richest  verdure  o'er  the  vale  expand. 
Their  borrowed  earth,  procured  by  costly  toil. 
Displays  the  produce  of  a  virgin  soil. 
Happy  the  man,  that  in  thy  blooming  vale, 
With  softer  breath  where  blows  the  wintry  gale. 
Beneath  thy  orange  shades  enjoys  the  day. 
When  vermeil  skies  emit  the  solar  ray, 
Inhales  their  sweets,  and,  like  their  verdant  bowers. 
In  Winter's  bosom  mocks  the  freezing  hours  ! 


The  noble  Art,  that  animates  my  strain 
Its  fame  confines  not  to  manure  the  plain, 
I  A  beautiful  valley  of  Provence. 


But  bids,  to  call  its  treasures  into  use, 
Wave,  wind,  and  flame,  their  jioteut  aid  adduce. 
Of  steel,  of  brass,  the  er.ii.iie  -1  11  :i.  iinves, 
And  hemp  or  wool  tu  \  1   :    1  ;  .  n  es. 

Far  from  the  upland-  - 1     1  ( ,        ,,iil    .     I..w, 
Ascend  with  me  the  mounUin .,  iuf;;;ed  brow  : 
Dreadful  abode  !  whence  dashing  torrents  p<^r. 
Where  rolls  the  thunder,  and  the  whirlwind's  roar. 

Ye  mounts,  that,  oft  by  contemplation  souglit, 
Have  driven  the  brightest  valleys  from  my  thought. 
Still  let  me  see  those  rocks  with  grandeur  crowned, 
And  hear  the  falling  flood's  impetuous  sound  ! 
0  !  who  shall  place  me  where  the  darksome  shade 
The  secret  pathway  has  impervious  made  ! 


,    LABOR,   AND   SKILL,    PUT  TO   USE  THE  FORCES   OF 
NATCRE.  —  MAN0FACTDRES. 

The  time  is  fled,  when  from  the  mountain's  height 
I  wooed  fair  Science  to  my  longing  sight. 
Contented  now  to  teach  the  industrious  swain, 
I  call  on  Skill,  Necessity,  and  Pain  : 
I  bid  him  stop  the  flood's  tumultuous  tide. 
That  rolls  its  vagrant  course  from  side  to  side  ; 
In  channels  deep  the  conquered  waves  to  bind. 
That,  now  divided,  now  together  joined. 
May  raise  the  lever,  circulate  the  wheel. 
Divide  the  silk,  or  tame  the  hardy  steel. 
Here  the  roii-|]  tmivot  f.iiiiis,  with  docile  aid. 
The  fleece  ..1  I'l.lr-  ,„   i;,dl,.iia\s  blade; 
There,  lauiirlnd  l.ke  li-litnuig,  o'er  the  surgy  deep. 
Destined  for  distant  seas,  the  vessels  sleep  : 
While  here  Annonay  sees  for  Didot's  skill 
The  sheet  prepared  his  future  lines  m.ay  fill. 
The  country  teems  with  life  ;   the  echoes  round 
The  forge,  the  factory,  and  the  waves,  resound  ; 
Its  rocks  subdued,  by  man  sublimely  graced,  [waste. 
The   mountain   smooths  its  brow,  and  laughs    the 


Each  stream  or  streamlet,  round  thy  lands  tha 
Some  salutary  aid  should  still  bestow.  [flow 

The  rustic  gods,  and  Dryads,  in  their  turn. 
Derive  their  treasures  from  the  Naiad's  urn.  — 
Most  in  those  climates,  where  the  burning  god 
Darts  to  the  bottom  of  the  dying  sod  ; 
Where  scarce  the  seasons  for  the  soil  prepare 
A  scanty  dew-drop  from  the  thirsty  air. 


Not  distant  far  a  running  stream  is  found. 
That  lurks  behind  the  mountain's  jealous  mound. 
Quick  o'er  the  hill  a  nobler  conquest  dare  ; 
Lo  !  to  the  spot  thy  pioneers  repair  ! 
The  mountain  crumbles  from  the  frequent  stroke  ; 
Whilst,  by  themselves  an  easy  passage  broke, 
The  long-armed  barrows,  groaning  as  they  reel. 
In  active  movement  ply  their  single  wheel ; 
Return  and  go  :  still  filled  and  emptied  still. 
They  bear  the  ruins  of  the  falling  hill. 
At  length  it  yields  ;  and  through  its  vaulted  side 
Another  channel  for  the  wave 's  supplied. 


SUMMER  —  AUGUST. 


211 


Tho  astonished  Naiad,  in  her  now-found  bod, 
To  feats  of  wonder  sees  her  waters  led,  [tides. 

While  spreading  wide,  and  branched  in  different 
I    Each  separate  stream  a  new  Paotolus  glides. 
The  Hood,  exulting  iu  her  fresh  domain, 
Where'er  it  flows,  bids  verdure  rise  again. 
And,  sAttrcc  of  coolness,  plenty,  and  of  fame. 
Soon  pays  the  price  of  your  victorious  claim. 

CONQCESTS   OF   ART   OVER   NATURE   IX   PERC.  —  IRRIGATION'. 

In  Lima's  valleys,  where  tho  orb  of  day 
Downward  and  near  directs  his  potent  ray. 
Where,  morn  and  cv'n,  the  champaign  and  tho  valo 
Alternate  catch  tho  sea  or  mountain  gale, 
W^ith  art  inferior,  and  with  less  expense, 
Man  knows  his  watery  riches  to  dispense. 
And,  as  their  source  he  opens  or  restrains. 
Hastes  or  retards  the  harvest  of  his  gains. 
Close  to  tho  blushing  fruit  new  blossoms  opej 
Trees  give  and  promise  ;  men  receive  and  hope. 
Ilcre  from  the  knife  the  obedient  vine-shoot  grows. 
While  there  with  golden  grapes  the  vineyard  glows. 
What  though  the  drops  of  heaven  are  still  denied, 
Man  forms  his  seasons  from  the  river's  tide. 
Delightful  scenes,  'midst  skies  without  a  cloud, 
That  owe  no  treasures  to  the  tempest  loud  ! 
Such  is  tho  force  of  Art,  when  mortals  dare 
To  vanquish  nature  and  correct  the  air  ! 

CASAtLISO   POB  DRAISIKO,    IRRIGATIOM,   AXD  TRAXSPORT. 

Canst  thou  not  carry  from  yon  marshy  ground 
The  stagnant  water  to  the  channel's  bound  ; 
And,  giving  Cores  unexpected  store. 
Show  heaven  the  fields  it  never  saw  before  ? 
When  thrown  at  hazard,  from  its  bubbling  source, 
The  vagrant  tide  pursues  a  useless  course. 
Confined  at  length  within  a  settled  bod, 
Through  lengthening  channels  be  the  waters  spread  ; 
Soon  shalt  thou  see,  upon  the  docile  tide. 
Above,  below,  the  stately  vessel  glide  : 
To  different  countries  shall  it  waft  your  stores. 
With  foreign  fruits  enrich  its  native  shores. 
Each  want  or  interest,  that  connects  mankind, 
Through  it  a  ready  intercourse  shall  find. 
B}'  distant  lands  one  common  commerce  found. 
Earth,  air,  and  sea,  the  Author's  praise  resound. 


High  in  this  art  Riquet  sublimely  stands. 
Who,  on  the  labor  of  monastic  hands. 
Though  Rome  from  error  had  obtained  the  praise, 
Still  greater  wonders  by  his  skill  could  raise  ; 
O'er  each  obstruction  rose  his  daring  mind. 
And  of  two  seas  the  distant  billows  joined. 
Not  Egypt's  lakes,  or  Nile  with  wonders  crOTvned, 
E'er  told  such  marvels  to  the  countries  round  ! 

THE  CANAL  OF  LAXOt'KDOC  DESCRIBED. 

Somo  magic  art  presents  the  wondering  eye 
Streams  abuvc  bridges,  vessels  near  the  sky  ; 
Roads  beneath  hills,  and  rooks  to  vaults  thatchangc,  I 


Where  countless  streams  in  darksome  caverns  range. 
In  gloomy  ways  tho  wandering  vessels  glide, 
.And  seoin  to  stem  tho  Acherontic  tide. 
.At  length,  by  slow  degrees  an  opening  found, 
.Sudden  they  see  Elysium  laugh  arounH, 
'Midst  fruitful  orchards,  meads  with  blossoms  bright, 
.And  iln/.zling  colors  from  tho  horiion's  light.  , 

At  fir^t  tile  waves,  that  view  tho  stoepy  height,       ' 
Recoil  with  terror  from  the  threatening  sight ; 
But  soon  from  spaco  to  space,  from  all  restrained. 
Levelled  with  art,  or  else  with  art  sustained, 
-As  from  the  mountain  to  tho  vale  they  bend. 
From  fall  to  fall,  in  safety  they  descend  ; 
Then  winding  gently  through  tho  enamelled  mead. 
The  stately  vessel  to  the  ocean  lead. 
Great  masterpiece,  where  Nature,  foiled  by  Art, 
Joins  the  two  seas,  that  keep  two  worlds  apart ! 


But  lest  these  waters,  breaking  from  their  bed. 
With  force  destructive  o'er  your  fields  should  spread. 
Taught  by  example  drawn  from  earliest  age. 
Learn  to  suppress  their  desolating  rage. 
Seek'st  thou  tho  means  ?     In  emblematic  guise 
Ingenious  Ovid  well  those  means  supplies. 


STORV  OP  TUB   RIVER    ACIIELOUS  . 


n8Hcin.E3;   the  ser- 


Stern  Aclii^l..,,-,  I,in-n,.,  n-,,,,  hi-  1. .,,,„. is, 
Swept  henl.s  anil  i.ilil.    i:    ■     i      :     ,     .     :. 1 1  grounds, 
Beneath  his  ua\i   on,',:,  ,,  i,  ^-rain, 

.And  razed  wli>>l..>  hainl'  i    i:   ;ii  li.'  ii  jiaLuu  plain  ; 
With  dreadful  rage  unpeopled  cities  vast, 
.And  changed  the  country  to  a  gloomy  waste. 
Aleidcs  camu,  and,  burning  to  subdue 
The  iMllnuini;  \va\.-,  liiiuself  among  them  threw  : 
Stciniurri  i,y  l)i.  II'  ivais  arm  their  tumults  cease, 
An<I  1"'i1mil:  \WiiiI[.""1>  too  subside  in  peace. 
Indigiiaut  at  liKs  .'Uauic,  the  vanquished  flood. 
Clothed  iu  a  sei-pout's  form,  before  him  stood  : 
Hissing  and  swollen,  with  many  an  opening  fold, 
Alun-  tho  tioniblin-  .«and  his  bulk  he  rolled. 
lliil.  -    II..    ]"i'.i\'.|,  .Aleraena's  valiant  son 
■■^'i''  I  _    I     I    .'ripe,  and  chained  him  down: 

'fill,  !  I   .    I    I  I'..  I  in  tho  potent  grasp, 

llij  >l.Mii-  I. .1.1-  tiiiiL  tlicir  latest  gasp. 
The  god  e.\ults  ;  '  What !  could  thy  rashness  hope 
With  me  in  deeds  of  hardihood  to  cope  ? 
Iladst  thou  forgot,  that,  in  my  cradle  laid. 
Two  vanquished  snakes  my  infant  force  displayed  ? ' 
The  river,  furious  with  redoubled  shame, 
Still  boldly  dares  to  vindicate  his  fame, 
And  rushes  on  the  god  :  but  now  no  more 
His  scaly  volumes  wind  along  the  shore. 
A  lordly  bull,  with  forehead  dark  and  storn, 
Tho  trembling  bank  his  heels  indignant  spurn. 
His  head  is  tossed  in  air  ;   lighten  his  eyes  ; 
He  roars,  and  thunder  bellows  to  tho  skies  : 
The  god  undaunted  sees  the  war  arise. 
With  active  fury  on  the  foe  he  flies. 
And  prostrate  throws  ;  each  vi.'orous  knee  imprest 
Full  on  his  panting  nook,  and  nervous  chest ; 


276 


RURAL  POETRY. 


Triumphant  o'er  him  from  his  brow  he  tears 
One  bending  horn,  and  as  a  trophy  bears. 
When  now  the  Dryads,  and  the  sylvan  train. 
Their  wrongs  avenged,  and  safe  their  green  domain. 
With  grateful  gifts  the  weary  god  surround. 
With  festoons  shaded,  and  with  garlands  crowned  ; 
Heap  their  glad  favors  in  the  smiling  horn, 
With  fruits  enrich  it,  and  with  flowers  adorn. 


Delightful  tale  !  whose  allegoric  charm 
Alike  the  painter  and  the  bard  shall  warm  ! 
Mark,  in  the  serpent,  and  his  mazy  fold, 
The  winding  streams,  in  various  circles  rolled. 
The  roaring  bull,  with  imitative  sound, 
Describes  the  billows  dashing  to  the  mound. 
His  bending  horns  the  branching  streamlets  show  ; 
The  one  Alcides  ravished  from  his  brow, 
That  richest  fruits  and  blushing  flow'rets  heap  — 
That  marks  the  recompense  which  mortals  reap 
From  streams  subdued,  in  emblematic  guise. 
The  joys  of  plenty  to  mankind  supplies. 


CONQUESTS  OVER  THE  SEA  IS  HOLLAND.  —  DIB 
PASTlTtES. 

Does  this  surprise  ?     The  bold  Batavian  see. 
With  potent  toil,  enchain  the  subject  sea. 
Deep  in  the  bosom  of  the  ocean  sunk, 
A  barrier  sure,  the  oak  presents  his  trunk  ; 
No  more  his  boughs,  that  proudly  waved  on  high, 
The  spring  embellish,  or  the  storm  defy  ; 
For,  destined  now  a  different  power  to  brave. 
He  breaks  the  fury  of  the  rushing  wave. 
Yon  side,  a  rushy  fence,  that  bends  along, 
By  art  made  potent,  and  in  weakness  strong. 
Where  the  rough  surge  its  dreadful  fury  sends. 
Eludes  its  rage,  resisting  as  it  bends. 
From  hence  the  conquered  soil,  and  fertile  plain. 
Offspring  of  Art,  emerging  from  the  main  ; 
Near  flowery  meads,  with  grazing  flocks  around. 
The  traveller,  passing  by  the  rampart's  bound. 
Astonished,  listens,  roaring  o'er  his  head. 
The  stormy  billows,  and  the  tempest  dread. 
Hence  o'er  the  land,  where  toil  forgets  repose. 
Nature  is  Art,  and  Art  enchantment  grows. 

STREAMS  TO   BE  CURBED   BT   ART. 

Thy  scant  domains  may  no  such  wonders  show, 
Y'et  they,  e'en  they,  their  miracles  may  know. 
Exert  thy  skill,  and  learn  by  hardy  force 
To  reap  advantage  from  the  river's  course. 
Whether  its  current,  warring  with  thy  land. 
Eat  through  its  borders,  and  consume  the  strand  ; 
Or  whether  now,  by  lawless  freedom  led. 
The  flying  stream  forget  its  native  bed. 
And,  wildly  ravaging  the  neighbor-field, 
To  you  the  booty  of  his  warfare  yield,  — 
Receive  its  presents,  and  its  bank  protect. 
The  usurping  billows  in  their  course  direct ; 
Rule  o'er  the  willing  or  the  rebel  wave. 
Thy  tributary  now,  and  now  thy  slave. 


Oft  has  the  land,  of  loose  and  fragile  mould, 
Disparting  sudden  from  its  clay-formed  hold, 
Launched  on  the  waters,  which  in  triumph  bore 
The  floating  burden  to  the  neighboring  shore. 
The  new  possessor,  gifted  by  the  main. 
At  sunrise  finds  a  late-acquired  domain. 
Whilst  the  sad  owner  sees  his  lands  retire. 
His  kindred  land,  bequeathed  from  sire  to  sire. 


Soft  be  the  strain  that  sings  .Nigeria's  woes, 
-Egeria  fair,  whose  bliss  from  sorrow  rose. 
'Midst  Scotia's  mountains,  on  a  spreading  lake, 
Where  moving  isles  the  rising  billows  break, 
A  scanty  farm  her  hoary  sire  possessed. 
Raised  o'er  the  waves,  and  floating  on  their  breast. 
Thus,  like  a  flow'ret  on  the  ocean  thrown. 
The  Grecian  bard  the  wandering  isle  *  has  shown. 
Where  erst  Latona  found  a  resting-place, 
The  hallowed  cradle  of  her  godlike  race. 
Capricious  work  of  hazard  and  the  surf. 
Of  boughs  by  age  entwined,  or  mossy  turf. 
Whilst  roots  and  falling  leaves  their  succor 
By  slow  degrees  jEgeria's  island  grew. 
Around  were  seen  the  willow  and  the  reed  ; 
No  herds  majestic  did  its  pastures  feed. 
Nor  sheep  nor  heifer  bounded  o'er  the  mead  : 
Some  scattered  kids,  that  o'er  the  island  strayed. 
The  sole  possession  of  J?geria  made. 
Small  though  the  wealth  her  subjects  could  assure, 
How  little  forms  the  riches  of  the  poor  ! 
Oft  would  her  father  cling  to  her  embrace. 
And  say,  '  My  child,  that  bearest  thy  mother's  face, 
The  island,  kids,  and  meadow,  that  I  see, 
Long  has  my  heart  in  dowry  given  thee.' 


threw, 


On  the  adverse  shore,  of  woods  and  mead  possessed, 
Dolon  had  long  jEgeria's  charms  confessed  ; 
But,  for  another  destined  by  lier  «irp. 
His  thwarting  will  h:v\  >l:niii-.l  thr  i  i^^ing  fire  : 
Yet  potent  love,  with  i-.r-.i ,  rin-  -l>ill, 
Their  woes  to  soften,  «:i-  iimi-ninii-  -till  ; 
And  oft  the  billows  to  each  other's  shore 
Or  fruits  or  flowers  in  mutual  presents  bore  ; 
Oft  too  would  Dolon,  launching  on  the  tide. 
His  light-oared  vessel  to  the  island  guide, 
By  Love  directed  ;  for,  in  every  date. 
Love  amidst  isles  has  flxed  his  favorite  seat. 
What  though  not  hero  was  seen  the  magic  land, 
Emerging  sudden  from  Armida's  wand, 
A  softer  charm  our  youthful  lovers  bound  ; 
To  see  and  love,  were  all  the  spells  they  owned  ; 
And  if  condemned  of  absence  to  complain. 
Though  pleasure  fled,  yet  hope  would  still  remain. 

THE  NAIAD,  DORIS,  AND  THE  OOD  EOLDS. 

But  Love  determined,  to  their  passion  kind, 

To  join  their  hands  whose  hearts  before  he  joined. 

1  Deloa,  or  Octygia,  in  the  centre  of  the  Cyclades. 


277    I 


Amongst  the  Naiads,  which  those  isles  adore, 
Beauty's  first  priio  tlio  lovely  Doris  bore. 
No  brighter  treasure  did  the  silver  waves 
Hide  in  the  bottom  of  their  crystal  caves. 
'Midst  aiuro  tides  her  tresses  shone  with  gold, 
For  her  the  stream  in  smoother  murmurs  rolled, 
Proud  of  its  charge,  that,  'mongst  the  nymphs  ad- 
With  softer  strains  Palomon's  shell  inspired,  [mired. 
Nor  never  yet,  reclined  on  Thetis'  breast, 
Was  fairer  Naiad  by  the  waves  caressed. 
The  god  whose  power  the  winds  impetuous  own 
Had  vainly  wooed  her  to  his  stormy  throne  ; 
But  still  she  shrunk  before  the  godhead's  force, 
Whose  every  sigh  was  as  the  tempest  hoarse. 
E.'cperience  knows,  that,  in  the  walks  of  love, 
Few  boisterous  spirits  shall  affection  move. 


But  Cupid  now  to  Eolus  repairs, 
Entangk'l  'hr].\y  in  In-  uily  .snares, 
And,  'List.,,.  I^.lu-  ,     i-j-ria  fair, 
And  D. .1.111.  I.  I.-  I  M>.   I  I.  itlK'il  the  mutual  prayer. 
Some  (itlKT  -w;iiii  .l-ni-inl-  ttie  promised  maid  ; 
Then  join  with  me  the  lovely  pair  to  aid. 
■Hgeria's  island,  by  the  tempest  tossed, 
Drive  o'er  the  lake,  and  fix  on  Dolon's  const. 
Then  shall  their  hands  in  happy  wedlock  join, 
And,  to  reward  thee,  Doris  shall  be  thine. 
Hut,  far  removed  from  thy  tempestuous  reign, 
ller  charming  grotto  let  her  still  retain. 
Where,  sheltered  safely  from  the  north  wind's  beat. 
The  western  gale  may  fan  her  soft  retreat.* 
Thus  Cupid  spoke,  and  roused  the  godhead's  heart. 
That  bliss  to  haston  where  his  own  had  part. 
One  dreadful  morn,  the  winds'  tempestuous  shock 
Bent  on  the  isle,  which  swelling  billows  rook  ; 
At  length  it  yields,  before  the  tempest  driven, 
With  force  unequalled,  that  deforms  the  heaven. 
See  sad  vEgcria  on  the  bank  remain, 
With  tears  recall  her  fugitive  domain. 
And  fears  unjust  a  while  to  Dolon's  view. 
Lest  with  her  dower  she  lose  her  lover  too. 
Afflicted  maid  !  thy  causeless  dread  forbear  ; 
For  Love  and  Fortune,  to  each  other  dear. 
From  mutual  blindness  mutual  succor  lend, 
And  guide  thy  island  to  a  prosperous  end. 

*OBRIi'S  FLOiTl.NO  ISLAND   LODGES  ON  DOLOS'S  FARM. 

Through  many  a  course  it  verges  to  the  shore, 
Where  pensive  Dolon  hears  the  tempest  roar. 
Long  time  in  mute  astonishment  he  sees 
The  moving  i.sland,  and  the  floating  trees  ; 
But  what  new  wonder  o'er  his  senses  moves. 
When,  nearer  borne,  he  views  the  isle  he  loves  ! 
His  anxious  eye  pursues  the  swimming  wreck. 
Dreads  lest  the  wave  or  rock  its  progress  check. 
Long  at  the  mercy  of  the  wind  and  tides. 
At  length  in  safety  to  the  shore  it  rides. 
And  fixes  there  ;  and  now,  with  eager  pace. 
How  Dolon  hurries  o'er  the  much-loved  place  ! 


Ho  seeks  the  silent  grot  and  secret  gnive, 

Where  no  profaner  eye  had  traced  their  love. 

Has  tho  wild  wave's  impetuous  fury  spared 

The  flowers  he  watered,  and  tho  trees  ho  reared  ? 

Still  shall  he  find,  of  love  the  tender  mark. 

Their  names  united  on  the  wounded  bark  ? 

Each  well-known  scene  his  soul's  emotion  moves. 

That  equal  care  and  eiiual  terror  proves, 

With  yon  sad  friend,  who,  from  the  howling  storm. 

Of  some  loved  friend  surveys  the  shipwrecked  form. 


DAPPr  ISSt'B  op  TUK  ] 


.  OF  DOLOX  AND  AGBaiA 


Scarce  does  tho  tempest  into  peace  subside, 
Ere  eager  Dolon  launches  on  the  tide. 
And  near  tho  spot  where  stood  the  isle  before 
He  finds  J5gcria  weeping  on  the  shore, 
In  grief  more  lovely  :  still  her  isle  she  sought. 
That,  once  hor  portion,  now  but  sorrow  brought. 
See  ardent  Dolon,  kneeling  at  their  feet. 
Each  tender  parent  with  his  tears  entreat': 
*  0  !  grieve  no  more  ;  inexorable  Fate, 
In  taking  yours,  has  given  you  my  estate  ; 
Then  come  with  me.'     And  o'er  the  watery  plain 
His  bark  conveys  them  to  their  joint  domain. 
At  first  the  sudden  change  their  sight  deceived  : 
But  scarce  ^Egeria  had  the  spot  perceived, 
'  And,  lo  !  our  isle.'    '  Yes,'  cries  the  grateful  swain, 
'  Moved  by  the  storm.  Love  gives  it  you  again. 
Though  great  the  sorrow  thou  wast  doomed  to  feel. 
Great  as  it  was,  my  bliss  is  greater  still ! 
So  may  the  favoring  gods,  our  shores  that  joined. 
Our  hands  and  hearts  in  blissful  Hymen  bind  ! ' 
Each  weeping  parent  joins  tho  assenting  voice, 
.Sgeria's  bluslies  imlicate  her  clioicc. 
Stii:  flv.M  th..  .-!■■.  t..  li..|..ii.i..-llydoar, 
It,<|,ri.lni.-  i...ii.,.    ..,..|  ,.i.|.... I, .!■.■..  wuar. 

Sustained  by  art,  against  its  sleepy  side 
With  feeble  fury  breaks  the  roaring  tide  ; 
Thus, 'midst  the  waves,  the  wandering  isle  was  bound, 
Where  Bliss  a  refuge.  Love  a  Delos  found  ! 


CANTO    III. 


Nature,  different  views  of.  The  deluKC.  Plants,  relics  ( 
Kivcrs,  course  of  choked.  Hurricane,  effects  of.  Vc 
canoes.  Cities,  subterraneous.  Sea,  its  wonders,  pr 
tluctions  of.  Kffecla  of.  Batltlng  places.  Mountain 
variously  formed.  Jura  and  Monlanveru,  description  i 
Avalanche,  description  of  one.  Botany,  study  of.  Be 
aiiisu,  party  of.  Subject  continued.  Natural  curiositii 
cabinet  of.  Birds,  beasts,  etc.  Insects.  Order  recon 
mended.   ObjecU,  choice  of.    Author's  cat,  < 


THB  SOIX  ELB%*ATED  BY  A  VIEW  OF  NATCRB. 

I  love  tho  man,  that,  noble  in  his  views, 
Tho  culture  of  his  land  and  soul  pursues  ; 
Unlike  the  vulgar  wretch,  whoso  darksome  mind, 
By  error  shrouded,  and  to  Nature  blind, 
Still  vainly  tries  to  lift  tho  grovelling  sight. 
Through  all  his  works,  to  God's  celestial  height. 


278 


RURAL    POETRY. — DELILLE. 


TULGAK  lONORASCE,   ITS   DISiDViSTAGES. 

Vainly  for  him,  in  landscapes  wide  displayed, 
Contrasted  Iiarmony  of  light  and  shade  ! 
He  knows  not  how,  in  secret  channels  fed. 
From  root  to  trunk  the  wandering  sap  is  led  ; 
Thence  through  the  boughs  its  liquid  virtue  sends. 
Till  in  the  leaves  its  raising  effort  ends. 
He  heeds  not  whence  the  crystal  waters  rise, 
Or  the  rich  tints  of  Nature's  varied  dyes  : 
And,  still  a  stranger  to  his  trees  and  flowers, 
Knows   not  their   name,   their   lineage,   and   their 
Sad  Philomela  mourns  her  callow  young,     [powers. 
Spoiled  by  his  boorish  hand,  —  and  Spring,  its  song. 


The  Sage  alone,  who  studies  Nature's  laws, 
Sinoerest  pleasures  from  the  country  draws, 
And,  while  the  Arts  his  friendly  aid  receive, 
For  him,  and  him  alone,  does  Nature  live. 
From  cares  important,  that  your  hours  employ. 
The  fertile  source  of  all  domestic  joy, 
Breath'st  thou  awhile?  with  learning's  richest  store 
Your  leisure  soothe,  and  make  enjoyment  more. 
Three  reigns  distinct  their  mysteries  display, 
And  call  their  lord  his  subjects  to  survey  : 
With  me  advance,  where  Nature's  gifts  are  seen. 
With  me  arise,  with  mo  enjoy  the  scene. 


What  varied  beauties  shine  upon  her  face  ! 
Here  all  is  beauty,  harmony,  and  grace  ! 
Here  the  thick  verdure  of  the  freshened  grass. 
Where  bubbling  streams  in  soothing  murmurs  pass  ! 
There  uplands  slope,  or  woods  majestic  wave  ! 
Here  the  soft  shelter  of  the  mossy  cave  ! 
There  dreadful  rents,  that  yawn  upon  the  land. 
Bear  the  rude  mark  of  Time's  destructive  hand  ! 
Here  sterile  sands,  that  whirlwinds  scatter  wide  ! 
Here  the  rough  torrent  rolls  its  rebel  tide  ! 
Or  wild-grown  moss,  and  heath,  and  rugged  thorn. 
Show  the  sad  image  of  a  soil  forlorn  ! 
All  ill  or  good  !  a  blessing  or  a  scourge  1 
Rut  shouldst  thou  dare  thy  bold  inquiry  urge. 
And  deeply  search  the  causes  and  effect. 
Let  not  that  doubtful  wit  thy  zeal  direct. 
That  now  affirms  disorder  rules  the  ball. 
And  now  that  harmony  presides  in  all  I 
Of  real  genius  wouldst  thou  knowledge  gain, 
The  sect  of  Buffon  shall  thy  doubts  explain  ! 

BDFFON'S   COSMOGONY.  —  EFFECTS  OF   THE  DELUGE. 

Of  old,  the  deluge,  in  its  dreadful  course. 
Loosing  the  waves,  left  man  without  resource  ! 
In  one  vast  ocean  bade  the  flood  expand 
The  rains  of  heaven  and  rivers  of  the  land  ! 
Where  mountains  stood,  a  level  champaign  spread  ! 
And  where  the  vales,  the  mountain  reared  its  head  ! 
Beneath  one  tomb  two  continents  it  hurled. 
Scattering  the  ruins  of  the  ravaged  world  !  [break ; 
Raised  lands  o'er  waves  ;    o'er  land  bade   waters 


While  second  chaos  rolled  upon  the  wreck  ! 
Hence,  buried  deep,  those  heaps  of  blackened  wood. 
Teeming  with  fire  ;  the  red  volcano's  food  ! 
Hence  secret  layers,  within  their  earthy  bed, 
Bear  one  world's  rilins'on  the  other's  spread. 


By  milder  process  to  each  other  bound. 
In  different  parts  are  different  layers  found  ! 
The  waves,  that  lead  along  the  winding  shore 
To  distant  seas  their  tributary  store, 
Have  varied  matter  carried  with  their  tide. 
That  ne'er  by  Nature  had  been  yet  allied  : 
E.ach  weighty  substance  found  a  sudden  grave. 
Whilst  others  lightly  hung  upon  the  wave  ; 
Till,  from  the  stream  to  heavier  matter  grown. 
They  to  the  first  deposit  joined  their  own  ; 
The  gathering  slime,  upon  their  surface  spread. 
Raised  layer  on  layer,  and  added  bed  to  bed. 
While  shrubs,  unbroken  by  the  dashing  flood. 
Stamped  perfect  forms  upon  the  gathered  mud. 


Thrown  amongst  us,  or  by  the  raging  tide 
Of  rolling  lake,  or  stream,  or  ocean  wide. 
What  though  these  relics  to  the  sight  display 
Plants  amongst  us  that  never  saw  the  day. 
Their  forms  unaltered,  and  their  beds  profound, 
That  stopped  the  billows  as  they  beat  around  ; 
Or  oft  two  lay'rs,  that  o'er  each  other  rest. 
With  the  same  branches  upon  each  impressed, 
Convince  the  sage  ;  whose  nice  discernment  sees 
A  cause  in  all,  that  works  by  slow  degrees. 
Incurious  he  to  draw  their  distant  source 
From  the  wild  ravage  of  the  deluge,  course  ; 
Effects  consistent  his  researches  trace 
In  Nature's  walk,  and  Time's  progressive  pace. 

RUl.V  LAPSED    BT  THE    OUTBfRSTING  OF   LAKES. 

Remark  yon  hamlet,  that,  in  mouldering  wrecks. 
Some  dire  disaster  mournfully  bespeaks  ! 
What  evils  caused  it,  let  our  zeal  inquire. 
Or  from  the  place  itself  or  village  sire. 
Within  the  hollow  of  the  rooky  steep 
The  source  of  future  streams  lay  buried  deep  ; 
The  assiduous  waters,  slowly  filtering  through. 
Aided  by  time,  their  reservoirs  o'erthrew. 
Sudden  the  hills,  with  dreadful  noise  that  broke, 
Fill  up  the  river,  and  its  basin  choke  : 
While,  thrown  with  fury  from  their  native  bounds, 
The  waters  rise  in  mass,  and  break  their  mounds  ; 
With  scattered  fragments  of  the  rook  and  wood, 
They  sweep  whole  cities  in  the  furious  flood  ! 
Within  the  concave  of  yon  hollowed  space, 
Still  may  the  eye  its  dreadful  ravage  trace. 
Where  oft  the  hermit,  o'er  the  ruins  bent. 
In  lengthened  tale  relates  the  dire  event. 


VARYING   APPEARANCE   OF   SOILS. 

Poured  from  the  summit  of  yon  darksome  brow. 
Rushed  sudden  torrents  on  the  vale  below  ! 


8DMMBR  —  AUGUST. 


279 


Tho  wild  eruption  of  tho  roaring  tide 
Funned  other  lakes,  and  other  dtrtiain»  supplied. 
Seest  thou  yon  mount,  against  whose  barren  sides 
The  bleak  north-east  eternal  warfare  guides  7 
Tho  weeping  sky,  detaching  with  tho  rain 
Its  loosened  soil,  conveyed  it  to  tho  plain, 
And  left  its  summits,  towering  to  tho  air. 
Despoiled  of  riehos,  and  of  verdure  bare  ! 
Fur  from  tho  prospect  of  these  naked  rocks, 
Whoso  gloomy  scene  th'  afflicted  eyesight  shocks, 
Turn  wo  our  footsteps  to  the  fields  below, 
Each  varied  soil  remarking  as  wo  go. 
Seo  on  those  hills  that  culture  never  knew. 
Where  first  tho  gods  its  simple  substance  threw, 
Tho  virgin  earth  its  purencss  still  retain, 
Though  changed  its  kind,  as  verging  to  tho  plain. 
Each  varied  turn  let  observation's  view, 
From  shade  to  shade,  from  vein  to  vein,  pursue. 

-ITS  EFFECTS. 


But  see  the  hurricane  his  flight  prepare  !      [air; 
*Midst  darksome  clouds  he  wings  his  speed  through 
With  tempest,  night,  and  thunder,  in  bis  train. 
Sweeps  towns  and  forests  from  the  ravaged  plain  ; 
Drives  back  the  river  to  its  trembling  bed, 
And  lifts  tho  ocean  to  tho  mountain's  head  ; 
Hence  fields  o'er  fields,  by  force  resistless,  ranged  ! 
Hence  streams  and  hills  their  first  position  changed  ! 
Th'  afflicted  earth,  bereft  of  fruit  and  flowers, 
In  woods  of  sorrow  mourns  her  gayer  hours. 


Tho  impetuous  fire  shall  equal  fury  pour, 
When  .(Etna's  torrents  and  its  tempest  roar  ! 
The  pregnant  earth,  within  whose  womb  is  fed 
Tho  black  bitumen,  and  the  sulphured  bed. 
Fires,  air,  and  tide,  and  from  its  darksome  caves 
O'er  its  own  oflapring  sheds  the  boiling  waves. 
Too  striking  emblem  of  the  furious  heat 
That  fires  the  heart,  when  warring  passions  meet. 
When,  bursting  sudden  from  the  inmost  soul, 
O'er  life's  fair  produce  they  destruction  roll  ! 
Yon  calcined  rock,  and  yonder  blackened  ground. 
Too  well  announce  where  raged,  the  plains  around. 
Volcanic  flames  —  though  now  their  rage  is  dead. 
And  Cerr-s  .-inil.s,  ;i!i.I  I'lora's  blossoms  spread. 
Of  yon.l.  I  -1.  .  I-,  nli.-r  -ides  each  other  face, 
Thou^'li  .1.1    lj;i-  |.i-i.  ..i...  still  retains  the  trace. 
Tho  la\;i  li'T'-  if-  liiry  t..rrcnt  poured! 
On  yonder  bed  the  rushing  billows  roared  ! 
Till,  further  on,  the  tide's  expansive  force 
Exhausted  stood,  and  sudden  checked  its  course.         I 
What  potent  streams  this  dire  misfortune  dried  !        1 
What  mountains  sunk  !  what  wretched  mortals  died! 


The  imperfect  tale  has  reached  these  later  years 
From  times  of  old,  and  gives  us  all  their  fears  ! 
Hero  shall  the  farmer,  on  some  future  day, 
Uliere  towns  immersed  beneath  the  torrent  lay, 
Strike  on  the  ruins  with  his  driving  share, 


The  gulf  discover,  and  its  secrets  bare. 
With  silent  awe  th'  astonished  eye  shall  scan 
^his  buried  monument  of  arts  and  man  ; 
Of  antiijuo  domes  the  unaccustomed  sight, 
The  circus,  palace,  and  the  temple's  height  ; 
Tho  schools  or  porches,  where  the  sage  of  old 
To  listening  crowds  the  moral  lesson  told  ! 
Where  human  figures  every  dwelling  fill. 
Their  looks  unaltered,  as  if  breathing  still  : 
Light  forms  !  thai  now  would  crumble  at  a  breath. 
Fixed  in  the  posture  as  surprised  by  deatli  ! 
Some  anxious  boar  their  children  or  their  gold  ; 
And  some  their  works,  their  richest  treasure,  hold  ; 
Von  pious  man  his  guardian  god  defends  ; 
Yon  duteous  son  beneath  his  parent  bends. 
One  lifts  tho  goblet  ;  who,  with  garland  crowned. 
His  latest  hour,  his  latest  banquet  found. 


Glory  to  Buffon  !  who,  to  guide  tho  sage, 
Raised  seven  beacons  o'er  the  sea  of  ago  ! 
Tho  world's  historian,  in  his  eS'orts  grand. 
He  drew  its  changes  with  a  master  hand  ; 
Yet  scarcely  moving  from  his  loved  retreat, 
lie  judged  the  globe  from  Montbar's  shady  seat. 
Like  potent  kings  he  sought  his  envoy's  aid, 
And  on  their  faith  he  Nature's  work  displayed. 

LIMAGNA.  —  ITS  EXTINCT  VOLCANOES. 

0,  had  his  footsteps  trod  Limngna's  ground. 
My  native  soil,  with  gladsome  pleasure  crowned. 
That  TiTn,.'>  iri.l..  nnnal-  t..  tho  sight  unicll, 

Wl,:,t  n,|.tin.-  ,r■^,   ],..\  ..,..• I  ..nhiss.ml  ! 

TI..T..  Ihl....  v..|.:m M...  n|...|,  the  view, 

Di.-tirii.|  llii-u-  1....I-,  .li-lin.'t  Ih.-ir  currents  too  ; 
111 'Ir.  i.llul  iiL.ik-,  til.- yawning  lands  display 
Tlir  .  ..iiiitl.  --  \(  ;ii-  tliat  since  have  rolled  away  ! 
Willi..  -..III.   Ii..  I.iuivil  in  the  sea  profound. 
Some  gained  the  seat  where  ocean  dashed  around. 
The  first  from  side  to  side  its  torrents  shed  ; 
The  next  in  waves  of  fire  its  fury  spread. 
In  yon  deep  trenches,  deeper  still  from  tirao, 
Where  other  days  present  their  scenes  sublime, 
Those  dreadful  fires,  in  difl'erent  ages  lost. 
Seas  o'er  volcanoes,  or  beneath  them  tossed  ; 
There  primal  chaos  to  the  mind  is  brought. 
And  endless  oges  weigh  upon  the  thought. 


Yet  ere  we  quit  the  mountain  and  the  plain, 
Of  broken  marble  take  the  lightest  grain  ; 
In  rich  memorial  from  its  veins  are  shown 
Tho  varied  ages  that  its  form  has  known  ; 
Raised  from  deposits  of  the  living  world, 
By  Ruin's  self  'twas  into  being  hurled. 
To  shape  its  form,  cemented  by  the  tide, 
What  races  fell,  what  generations  died  ! 
How  long  tho  sea  upon  its  substonce  pressed  ! 
How  oft  the  waves  have  rolled  it  in  their  breast ! 
Of  old,  descending  to  his  steepy  bed, 
The  ocean  left  it  on  tho  mountain's  head  ; 


RURAL   POETRY. 


Again  the  tempest  to  the  ocean  bore. 
Again  the  ocean  threw  it  on  the  shore, 
In  change  succeeding  change  ;  thus  worn  by  age, 
It  stood  the  billows'  and  the  whirlwinds'  rage. 
The  rise  of  worlds  withiu  this  marble  read  ; 
This  marble  was  a  rock  ;  the  rock  a  seed, 
Offspring  of  time,  of  sea,  of  air,  and  land, 
Modest  coeval  of  these  mountains  grand  ! 


What  fertile  source  of  study  and  of  joy,     [ploy. 
With  thoughts  unnumbered,  would  your  time  em- 
Should  the  vast  ocean,  from  his  rich  domain. 
Still  nearer  show  the  wonders  of  his  reign  ! 
Tremendous  sea  !  what  mortal  at  thy  sight 
Feels  not  his  bosom  seized  with  awful  fright? 
My  infant  eyes  were  struck  with  early  dread, 
When  first  I  saw  thy  boundless  surface  spread  ! 
How  man  and  art  thy  varied  scenes  enrich  ! 
There  human  genius  reached  its  noblest  pitch ; 
Made  countless  vessels,  hanging  on  the  main, 
Of  states  and  worlds  the  medium  and  the  chain. 
Deep  as  the  sea  itself,  thy  thoughts  demand 
The  hidden  wrecks  of  many  a  warlike  land  ; 
Whole  streets  immersed  within  the  briny  grave, 
And  troops  and  treasures  buried  in  the  wave. 


Or  with  LinnEeus,  plunging  to  his  bed, 
Mark  where  the  groves  of  reed  and  fucus  spread, 
By  us  unseen,  till  by  the  tempest  thrown, 
That  for  the  seas  another  Flora  own  ; 
The  sponge,  the  coral,  and  the  polype's  nest. 
Strange  work  of  seas  and  insects  in  their  breast. 
What  streams  from  hence  derive  their  secret  source. 
What  floods  renowned  achieve  their  mighty  course. 
Sometimes  thine  eye  those  monsters  shall  pursue. 
Like  distant  rocks,  that  rise  upon  the  view  ; 


Or  now  thy  thoughts,  with  Buffon's  aid,  explain 
The  many  changes  of  its  noisy  reign  ; 
Its  grand  events  ;   its  tides,  that  rise  or  fall. 
As  on  its  axle  turns  the  rolling  ball  ; 
Those  dread  volcanoes,  that,  from  earth's  abodes, 
Of  old  defied  the  thunder  of  the  gods  ; 
Or  those,  whose  ardent  fires,  profoundly  placed 
Beneath  the  bottom  of  his  briny  waste, 
Some  future  day,  the  burning  rock  shall  urge, 
In  smoky  ruins,  o'er  the  foaming  surge.  — 
Remark  yon  capes,  that  o'er  the  tide  impend. 
Those  gulfs,  whose  shores  the  waves  alternate  rend  ; 
Those  mountains,  buried  in  the  ocean  vast. 
The  Alps  of  future  or  of  ages  past, 
Whilst  hill  and  valley,  smiling  to  the  eye, 
Must  in  their  turn  beneath  the  waters  lie. 
Thus  earth  and  sea,  in  endless  changes  hurled, 
Seem  each  to  claim  the  ruin  of  the  world. 
Thus  bites  the  anchor,  where  the  cattle  fed, 
And  rolls  the  chariot,  where  the  sail  was  spread  ; 


Worn  by  the  ravage  of  the  breaking  tide, 
The  world  its  age  in  Time's  abyss  would  hide. 

WATEB-COCRSES. —  HACKNEYED   STRAINS. 

Turned  from  the  Sea,  whose  billows  ever  move. 
Thine  eye  the  river  and  the  stream  shall  love  ; 
Not  those  our  witlings  sing  in  numbers  cold, 
Whose  hackneyed  strains  have  made  the  Naiads  old; 
Turn  we  to  those,  whose  docile  waves  prepare 
Effects  distinguished,  or  sume  wonder  rare  ; 
Or  trace  the  river  to  its  distant  source, 
Or  through  its  mazes  mark  its  changing  course. 
As  winding  on,  and  spread  from  side  to  side, 
Inward  or  salient  angles  mark  its  tide. 


The  stream,  the  well,  the  fountains,  shall  I  sing, 
That  soft  relief  to  sorrowing  sickness  bring? 
Amongst  whose  scenes  appears  a  mingled  train, 
In  joy  and  grief,  in  pleasure  and  in  pain, 
That,  when  the  spring  resumes  its  verdant  sway, 
True  to  the  time,  their  annual  visit  pay. 
Here  limping  sires  each  other's  ailments  soothe, 
And  here  exults  the  giddy  train  of  youth  ; 
The  old  splenetic,  and  the  vapored  fair, 
To  the  same  spot  in  mingled  crowds  repair  ; 
Anna  renews  the  blushes  of  her  cheeks, 
While  healing  for  his  wound  the  warrior  seeks  ; 
The  glutton  here  for  past  indulgence  pays  ; 
Each  on  the  shrine  of  Health  his  offering  lays. 
Their  ills,  whose  burden  long  their  servants  bore 
And  friends,  here  seek  relief,  but  pity  more. 
At  morning  creeps  the  melancholy  throng, 
At  night  is  heard  the  banquet  and  the  song  ; 
Here  thousand  joys  'midst  thousand  sorrows  dwell, 
Like  glad  Elysium,  in  the  midst  of  hell. 


These  scenes  forsaking,  and  their  noisy  train, 
Once  more  return  we  to  your  green  domain  ; 
High  to  its  magic  palace  let  us  trace 
The  watery  source  that  feeds  the  river's  space. 
Where  yonder  mounts,  that  long  have  ruled  your 
Romantic  scenes,  sublimer  prospects  yield.      [field, 
O'er  their  vast  rocks,  that  scattered  rise  in  air, 
Methinks  that  Genius  bids  the  Arts  repair  ; 
Where,  to  the  painter  thousand  tints  displayed. 
Afford  him  flood  of  light  or  mass  of  shade  ; 
AVhenoe  to  the  bard  sublimer  strains  arise. 
And  where  the  sage  pure  Nature's  law  descries  ; 
Bear  to  the  freeborn  man  and  bird  of  Jove, 
Their  brow  has  seen  whole  ages  round  it  move, 
No 


Here  learn  to  scan 
Th'  eternal  God  through  all  his  mighty  plan, 
Where  Time's  wide  annals,  opened  to  the  view. 
Display  the  mountains  from  the  waves  that  grew  ; 
Those,  that  by  sudden  fires  in  air  were  thrown, 
Or  primal  mounts,  that  with  the  world  have  grown : 


SUMMER —  AUGUST. 


281 


'  OAiisiTrns  OP  mocstaiss. 


Thoir  beds  so  various,  and  their  spiry  top, 
Their  horijontal  form,  and  sides  that  slupo, 
Mysterious  work  of  ages  and  of  chance  ! 
Sonietiuics  thine  oyo  shall  trace,  with  curious  glance, 
Tho  rude-formed  circles  of  the  hanging  rook, 
The  black  basaltcs,  tho  volcano's  shock, 
Tho  granite,  fashioned  by  tho  assiduous  tide, 
Whole  beds  of  schist  and  marble's  veiny  prido  ; 
Pierce  to  their  centre,  drive  into  their  breast. 
Whore  God,  and  Man,  and  Nature,  stand  impressed. 


NATrRE'S 

Tho  goddess  n<.w,  -uiidst  sniil.s  of  gladness  seen, 

Withti.i"r,-  ,,n,|  >,,. \..].^  ,\,.   h:,|,,,y  scene  ; 

Xow  linM  ,i-.(  I .  .1..  ii     ;     I  ,  •    .  I'v  ^race. 

Of  aneici ,1.     -I  .    1  :-      .    ,     ,    ,    UAvcl 

There,  :us  ;i,,l,.uiua  t..  ii,,c  ui...u  il.v  day. 
In  modest  streams  tho  riv'let  steals  away  j 
Here  the  loud  cataract  foams  adown  tho  steep  ; 
Hero  zephyrs  softly  kiss,  or  north  winds  sweep. 
Hero  orchards  smile,  volcanoes  yawn  along, 
Echoe.>i  tho  thunder,  or  the  shepherd's  song  ; 
Hero  fertile  vales  with  gladsome  verdure  crowned  ; 
There  richest  produce  waves  along  the  ground  ; 
Hero  naked  rocks,  like  skeletons  that  show. 
Spring  at  their  feet,  and  Winter  on  thoir  brow. 

MOOTS  JCBA  AXD  MOSTANVEBTS  DESCRIBED. 

Hail,  pompous  Jura  !    hail,  Montanverts  dread  ! 
^Vhere  ice  and  snow  in  heaps  enormous  spread  ; 
Where  Winter's  fane,  that  dazzling  columns  raise. 
Like  changing  prisms,  a  thousand  tints  displays. 
It«  rugged  sides,  with  azure  dies  that  glow, 
Defy  the  sun  from  whence  its  colors  flow. 
Rich  gold  or  purple  o'er  the  mass  is  shown. 
While  Winter,  seated  on  his  icy  throne, 
Exults  to  see  the  God  who  lights  tho  morn 
Shine  on  his  palace,  and  his  court  adorn. 
Amidst  these  wonders,  strowcd  by  Nature's  hand, 
These  striking  pictures,  and  these  prospects  grand, 
Still  o'er  the  scene  imagination  glows. 
Nor  flags  the  thought,  nor  docs  the  eye  repose. 


Woe  to  tho  mortal  who  with  hardy  tread 
Shall  tempt  the  horrors  of  these  mountains  dread  ; 
Unless  the  lire-fraught  tube  has  tried  the  heap 
Of  gloomy  frosts  tliat  hang  upon  tho  steej). 
What  grand  effects  arise  from  causes  light ! 
The  bird,  oft  perched  upon  tho  mountain's  height. 
Loosens  a  grain  of  snow  ;  whose  pigmy  ball. 
New  force  acquiring  in  ita  rapid  fall, 
Sees  gathering  snows  around  its  circle  cling, 
And  every  move  an  added  burden  bring. 
Trembles  the  air,  when  now,  with  dreadful  roar. 
Of  many  a  winter  past  the  gathered  store, 
Bounding  from  hill  to  hill,  from  rock  to  rock, 
Earth's  inmost  bosom  trembling  at  the  shock. 
Destroys  whole  hamlets,  sweeps  away  tho  wood. 
Nor  leaves  the  trace  whore  once  the  oity  stood. 

36  ~ 


Around  these  falling  Alps  dread  whirlwinds  rise, 
.*truck  by  whoso  distant  blast  the  traveller  dies. 
Thus  mighty  states,  oppressed  with  growing  ills. 
That  slowly  gather  till  thoir  measure  fills. 
Sink  down  at  length,  in  long-expected  doom  ! 
Tyro,  Thebes,  are  lost  ;  in  vain  we  look  for  llomc. 
0  native  Franco  !  tho  scono  of  many  a  woe, 
How  do  thy  suff'crings  bid  mine  eyes  o'erflow  ! 

Cfl-TIVATIOS  OP  TREES.  —  ORAFTINO SAP. 

Fatigued  at  length  to  tread  this  horrid  scene. 
Descend  once  more  upon  tho  oharapaign  green  ; 

Near  tho  bii-ht  streani,  .il.mK  the  laughing  vale, 
WIkt.'  -Inuli-  ;iim1  I)  nil-  ih.ir  Hi iiif,'led swccta exhalo, 
Orlli.Hri^,,!  ri.i-,  nip  .-  Li  ciirhrs  proudly  bend, 

T'"-ii" 'ii;li  M  III  i.l>M,i,i,  li Ii.iirent  race  extend  ; 

Thrun^li  tliLm  wliat  mu  i..,t  ilu  yuur  fields  present ! 
Observe  their  varied  colors,  form,  and  bent  ; 
Their  loves  and  marriage  ;  how  the  grafted  shoot 
Corrects  the  wildnoss  of  tho  forest  root ; 
Amends  its  fruits,  bids  loaded  branches  rise. 
And  to  your  trees  a  race  unknown  supplies  ! 
Mark  too  tho  sap,  that,  ere  its  process  ends, 
In  course  alternate  rises  or  descends  ; 
In  active  virtue,  how  its  liquid  power 
Creates  the  wood,  tho  loaf,  the  fruit,  and  flower. 


riii-  vjri.,iL-  i,.        ,  I  ,,i        iiiiii'ss  deck  the  plain. 
When-  -riiri''  tli-    1  .,1  ,,  |i.iii_iiiy  glance  will  deign. 
Do  they  no  profit,  wj  attraction,  show  ? 
The  God  who  formed  the  world  made  them  to  grow. 
Their  powers  mysterious  let  thy  knowledge  silt, 
Their  useful  poisons,  and  their  healing  gift. 
Where'er  they  rise,  no  part  of  earth  is  lost, 
Since  e'en  the  desert  may  its  beauty  boast. 
0  !  may  thy  footsteps  still  with  plciisure  trace 
The  fragrant  dwelling  of  this  bumble  race  ; 
Whether  you  tread  Chantiliys  woody  pride. 
Rich  Mendon's  brow,  or  Marli's  flowery  side. 

BOTANIZING  WITH  PRIESDS.  —  jr3.-«EC. 


I  these  visits  more  delightful  make 
Let  some  choice  friends  the  pleasing  task  partake. 
With  ready  zeal  they  at  thy  call  unite, 
Enhance  thy  joys,  and  moke  thy  labor  light. 
But 't  is  not  here  tho  sound  of  sylvan  war, 
Tho  horn  and  trumjiet  echoing  from  afar  ! 
Graze  on,  ye  herds,  amidst  your  peaceful  shade. 
Nor  you,  ye  feathered  songsters,  bo  dismayed  ; 
They  hurt  not  you  :  in  innocent  pursuit. 
They  search  the  varied  plant,  or  tree,  or  root  ; 
From  wood  or  mead,  from  mountain  and  from  plain 
The  herbal  waits  its  present  to  obtain. 
The  morning  air,  tho  freshness  of  the  day. 
Calls  Flora's  students  to  their  task  away. 
While  Jussieu  leads  them,  eager  to  explain 
Each  part  that  forms  tho  vegetable  reign  : 
Sometimes  of  blended  plants  thoy  form  with  art 
A  specious  whole,  from  many  a  borrowed  part  ; 


282 


RURAL    POETRY.  DBLILLE. 


With  smiling  goodness  he  the  work  receives, 

And  to  each  plant  its  borrowed  fragment  gives. 

In  these  researches  emulous  to  shine, 

O'er  every  flower  with  ardor  they  incline, 

The  petal,  stamen,  and  the  pistil,  trace 

Of  common  blossoms  or  of  uiiktu.uii  unr  ; 

The  first  well  pleased  you  iii;ii  k  nitli  -jiiiirtul  sight, 

And  view  the  last  through  li"|"-  liruM.I,iii-  light: 

The  one  an  ancient  friend,  whusc  laci'  ,\uu  luvc  ; 

A  stranger  one,  you  must  in  future  prove. 


DELIGHTS  OF  THE  BOTANI; 

What  sudden  pleasure,  when  some  object  rare, 
Confined  peculiar  to  one  soil  and  air, 
More  precious  far  from  expectation  grown. 
By  some  blessed  turn  upon  the  sight  is  thrown  ! 
The  pervanche  so,  with  us  that  never  grew, 
Its  long-sought  blossom  gave  to  Rousseau's  view  ; 
He  marks  the  treasure  with  an  eager  glance  ! 
'  Great  God  !  the  pervanche  ! '  and  his  hands  advance, 
Sudden  to  seize  the  prey  :  not  more  delight 
Feels  the  fond  lover  at  his  mistress'  sight. 

Now  nature  calls  ;  and  see  the  rustic  meal. 
New  force  that  gives,  suspend  a  while  their  zeal. 
Near  the  cool  bank  that  winding  streamlets  lave, 
Lo  !  Bacchus  fresh'ning  in  the  Naiad's  wave  ! 
The  trees  a  ceiling  ;   songs  the  birds  afford  ; 
The  horizon  pictures  ;   and  the  sod  their  board  : 
The  cherry  rich,  the  strawberry  of  the  woods. 
With  search  successful  that  their  care  pursued, 
The  egg,  and  aprieot  of  yellow  die. 
And  milky  bowl,  the  frugal  moal  supply  ; 
While,  roused  to  hunger  I.y  f.,,^  |.l.  ;i  In  ■  ij-k, 
Their  taste  no  aid  from  .M<  .      i  k. 

Their  songs  to  Cybelo  aijil  I  i 

With  endless  youth  and  .■!,. II.       -  m  ..  .inv,i.-d! 
Thosi-  iiiithiii,'-  l.:i\  111-,  liiiiiM  -I  i-\  I  ii-iii-ii-  i.reath. 

By  Vfrilli.U    l,,-li...,i,    lii.i.    ri,|i.i.,lhil    1,1, III, 111. 

They  U,|l.,n:,.,l,  i,fi:ill-  tl,.,  Im.u.i.II,  .-s  .-„uicc, 
The  world's  great  secrets,  and  of  Nature's  course. 

THE   HERBABIl'M.— NATUBAL  mSTOBT.  —  ISSTISCT. 

At  length  they  rise,  and  o'er  the  fields  anew 
From  wood  to  mead  or  hill  their  search  pursue  ; 
At  night  the  hei-hal,  on  its  ready  leaves. 
Each  conquered  plant  triumphantly  receives. 
Yet  to  these  humbler  tribes  has  prudent  Heaven 
Imperfect  life  and  narrowed  instinct  given. 
The  brute  creation,  nearer  to  our  own. 
Less  strangers  too,  with  happier  ease  are  known. 
Whether  as  subjects  or  as  foes  they  live, 
Or  with  their  friendship  their  attendance  give, 
Their  tribes  unnumbered  trace  with  curious  eye, 
Whether  in  woods  or  darksome  dens  they  lie  ; 
The  light-winged  guests,  that  in  your  branches  perch, 
Or  peaceful  life,  in  fold  or  hamlet,  search  ; 
Those  that  attack,  or  wait  the  sylvan  fight. 
Those  beneath  earth,  or  on  the  mountain's  height. 
And  while  thy  search  their  arts  and  manners  sees, 
*  A  famous  restaurateur  of  Paris. 


Mark  well  the  small  and  delicate  degrees, 

Where  changing  instinct,  through  each  living  link. 

Or  towers  to  man,  or  to  the  plant  shall  sink. 

With  added  gust  such'  pleasures  wouldst  thou  taste. 
In  one  small  circle  be  these  objects  placed  ; 
Three  adverse  reigns,  astonished  to  unite. 
At  once  shall  give  their  subjects  to  thy  sight  : 
AMiere  all  their  own  repository  find, 
Ranged  in  departments,  or  in  classes  joined  ; 
The  world  and  nature,  in  abridgment  shown, 
Of  endless  pleasure  make  the  source  thy  own. 

THE  COLLECTIOS  OF  A  CABINET  OF  MISEBiLS. 

But  check  the  progress  of  thy  vasty  toil  ; 
First  choose  thy  objects  from  thy  native  soil. 
Where,  daily  seen,  they  own  thee  for  their  lord. 
And,  born  with  thee,  shall  greater  joy  afford  : 
Of  varied  mines,  in  earth's  recesses  spread, 
Take  the  bitumen  from  its  native  bed  ; 
Each  soil,  and  salt ;  the  stone,  whose  form  contains 
A  secret  fire,  that  preys  upon  its  veins  ; 
Each  colored  metal,  and  the  crystal's  pride. 
The  rock's  rich  offspring,  lucid  as  the  tide  ; 
The  clay,  whose  substance  when  the  flames  shall  try, 
For  polished  lustre  with  the  glass  may  vie  ; 
The  hardening  wood,  its  native  form  that  leaves. 
And  from  the  wave  a  stony  coat  receives  ; 
Whether  the  slime  around  its  surface  grow. 
Or  to  its  pores  petrific  moisture  go  : 
In  short,  each  object,  that  derives  its  birth 
From  fire  and  air,  from  water  and  from  earth. 

OF    MOSSES,    ETC.  —  VABEC  ;     LICHEN  J 


More  curious  still,  more  anxious  to  explain 
The  fertile  stores  of  vegetable  reign. 
There  let  nu-  -t,  in  iirinil  unim,  =prc.id. 
The  sea-l".rii  mnv  -Imu  ii-  ,-,,l,ir,-,l  lirml  ; 
The  crecpiii-  li,l„'i.,  tlu.l  r,,r  IViimlly  :iid 
Clings  to  th.,  l,iiik,  b,.nr:ith  the  niikeii  ,4i.ade  ; 
The  potent  agaric,  to  wounds  applied. 
That  stops  the  gushing  of  the  sanguine  tide  ; 
Whose  spongy  substance  to  its  bosom  takes 
The  crackling  spark,  as  from  the  flint  it  breaks. 
With  them  the  nenuphar,  from  humid  site. 
The  bane  of  pleasure,  foe  to  Love's  deliglit ; 
Those  plants  and  boughs,  that  swarming  life  contain. 
The  wondrous  subjects  of  each  rival  reign. 


The  living  world,  that  equal  change  may  know, 
Shall  greater  charms  from  happy  contrast  show  : 
One  spot  shall  throw  upon  the  astonished  eye 
The  royal  eagle,  ami  lli,   |,imii.v  fly  ; 
Those  birds  that  lin,   ili,   ,  ii,  liiu  -m^i.ns  stay  ; 
Tliose  that  ere  wiiitrr  uiiu  Hn  "  H'.-'ld  away  : 
The  shapeless  bear,  tin'  i,i,iiii,k',-  giii,.'eful  height. 
The  slow-paced  turtle,  and  the  squirrel  light : 
The  beast  whose  sides  a  shelly  crust  defends  : 
Or  o'er  whose  back,  in  vaulted  form,  it  bends  : 


SUMMER  —  AUGUST. 


288 


Horo  (lilToront  soalos  tho  fish  and  snake  denote  : 
Hero  tho  rough  hedgehog,  and  tho  rat's  smooth  coat: 
The  fish  whose  small  gondola  stems  the  tide  : 
The  oraiio  that  sails  without  the  magnet's  guide  : 
The  mimie  parrot,  and  tho  ape's  address, 
That  sounds  or  gestures  of  mankind  express  : 
Those  tribes  that  stray  not  from  their  dark  abode, 
And  those  which  ramble  from  their  home  abroad  : 
Tliose  birds  with  oars,  and  fish  with  wings  supplied, 
Tho  doubtful  citizens  of  earth  or  tide. 


Ye  countless  insects  here  shall  refuge  gain, 
You,  tho  last  link  of  Nature's  living  chain  j 
Whether  you  mount  on  wings,  or  humbly  creep. 
Swarm  in  tho  air,  or  wanton  on  the  deep. 

Ucro  then  each  worm,  each  caterpillar  place  ; 
His  son,  gay  upstart,  blushing  at  his  race  ; 
Insects  of  every  rank,  of  every  die. 
That  dwell  in  marshes,  or  in  Oow'rcts  lie  ; 
Or  those  that,  digging  for  a  secret  dome. 
Deep  in  the  budding  leaf  have  fixed  their  home  ; 
The  fruit-tree's  foe  j  or  worm,  more  murderous  still. 
Whose  living  folds  the  human  bosom  fill  ; 
The  spider,  too,  whose  webs  our  wall  o'erspread  ; 
The  fly  that  builds,  or  spins  tho  fine-drawn  thread  ; 
Those  in  whose  golden  web  their  tomb  is  wove  ; 
Those  that  in  secret  light  the  torch  of  love  ; 
The  fly  whose  life  throughout  the  year  extends. 
Or  given  at  morning  with  tho  evening  ends  ; 

WOSDBRFCL  CONTRIVANCES  BESTOWED  OS  INSECTS. 

Come,  all  ye  tribes  that  through  tho  world  are 
strewed. 
Whose  endless  race  is  without  end  renewed  ; 
In  all  the  lustre  of  your  riches  dressed,  [crest, 

Your  flowers,  your  pearls,  your  rubies,  and  youi 
Those  guardian  sheaths,  those  horny  cases,  bring 
That  shield  the  texture  of  your  fine-wrought  wing  ; 
Those  mirrors,  prisms,  with  labored  beauty  graced, 
Y'our  well-formed  eyes  by  skilful  Nature  placed  ; 
Some  thickly  sown  their  microscopes  display. 
While  some,  like  telescopes,  extend  the  ray. 
Show  me  the  distaff,  auger,  and  tho  dart. 
Arms  for  your  combat,  or  the  tools  of  art  ; 
Those  wary  horns,  that,  branching  o'er  tho  eye, 
With  careful  feet  the  doubtful  pathway  try  ; 
Y'our  drums  and  clarions  nearer  let  me  know. 
That  speak  whene'er  with  rage  or  love  you  glow  ; 
Or  leading  heroes  to  the  embattled  ground, 
To  charge,  to  danger,  and  to  conquest,  sound  ; 
Each  secret  spring,  each  organ,  let  me  trace, 
That  mock  the  proudest  arts  of  human  race  ; 
Completest  toil  !  from  endless  source  that  rose. 
Each  worth  a  world  ;  for  each  tho  Godhead  shows. 


Thy  zeal  to  gain  what  Nature  s  walk  bestows. 
At  each  new  conquest  still  more  ardent  grows. 
A  plant  or  stone  that  meets  the  searching  eye, 
A  smiling  flow'ret,  or  some  long-sought  fly, 
Now  clnirms  shall  give  ;  and  now,  by  fancy's  aid. 
Each  class,  each  province,  to  the  mind  portrayed. 
That  long  the  new-found  treasure  to  receive, 
Througii  all  her  works  shall  Nature's  image  give. 
Tho  eye,  the  thought,  shall  rove  in  endless  change 
With  busy  fancy  ever  on  tho  range  ; 
E'en  when  the  wintry  frosts  thy  steps  retain. 
Eager  she  hastens  to  the  well-known  plain  ; 
O'er  mead  and  wood  she  wings  her  rapid  flight, 
Till,  rising  sudden  on  her  watchful  sight. 
Some  pebble  rare,  or  shrub,  or  blushing  flower. 
Chains  her  attention,  and  suspends  her  power. 


COLLECTIONS 


IBAL     niSTORT     FORM 


And  when  compelled  thy  loved  retreat  t<>  leave. 
What  added  pleasure  shall  the  country  give. 
When  every  landscape  to  the  mind  is  brought 
By  fund  remembrance  and  illusive  thought  ! 
Here  tho  rough  billows,  as  they  ebbed  or  flowed, 
Some  fucus  rare  or  unknown  shell  bestowed  ; 
There  from  the  bosom  of  the  teeming  ground 
The  fragment  rare  of  some  rich  mine  was  found  ; 
Or  there  some  insect  spread  the  fluttering  wing. 
Or,  yet  unseen,  the  gaudy  child  of  Spring, 
Some  painted  butterfly,  with  eager  haste, 
Seized  on  some  flower,  was  in  your  closet  placed. 
That,  to  his  kindred  joined,  filled  up  the  space 
That  vacant  stood,  and  made  complete  his  race. 


Where-.i  t!,    u  .    .    i    i    .   n    ,.  i..,,  shall  go  ; 

Yrtn„tl,r„    In, ,.11,,^  .,.,.    ,in4  t.u,l.  Lc.toW  : 
],rt    li:i|.|.\    n|,l,r   I  !,|..|i,;h    \..U1'  cluSUtS  roigU  ; 

llui  iiM-i  'liniilil  ti<;iiiii--.  - 1  inple  Still  and  plain, 

ThrcMigh  every  class  anil  every  canton  live. 
Each  bird  and  beast,  with  careful  eye,  observe  ; 
Let  each  his  posture  and  his  air  preserve, 
Ilis  look  and  mien  ;  perched  on  the  branchy  height, 
'I'he  bird  should  seem  to  meditate  his  flight ; 
The  weasel  show  me,  with  his  roguish  face, 
Ilis  lengthened  body,  and  of  narrow  space  ; 
Tho  fox,  with  downward  look  and  wily  air, 
Some  secret  ambush  in  his  thoughts  should  bear. 
To  nature  thus  new  beauty  shalt  thou  give. 
That  after  death  shall  even  seem  to  live. 


Three  reigns  distinct  shall  thus  confess  thy  sway, 
Where  new-found  tribes  for  daily  entrance  pray. 


Those  monstrous  sights  that  nature  violate 
Leave  to  tho  closets  of  the  rich  and  great  ; 
The  misshaped  foetus  ;   forms  with  double  head 
Those  bones  gigantic  ;  and  the  abortion  dread. 
Betwixt  nonentity  and  being  bred  : 
The  mummy,  too,  in  nature's  guise  that  laid 
Disputes  with  Death  tho  conquest  ho  has  made. 


284 


RURAL    POETRY. 


Hadst  thou  some  favorite  bird,  some  dog  beloved, 
Through   all  your  griefs  that   has  his  friendship 

proved '! 
0  !  ne'er  consign  him  to  earth's  darksome  womb 
With  rites  that  mock  the  honors  of  the  tomb  ; 
This  simple  refuge  to  his  relics  give  ; 
In  your  Elysium  graceful  let  him  live  ! 

THE  author's  cat  ;    CELEBRATED    BY   LA    FONTAINE. 

There  would  I  see  him,  with  thy  form,  displayed, 
Thou  whom  La  t'ontaine's  song  had  deathless  made, 
Felina,  dear,  that,  single  to  thy  race. 
Showed  the  dog's  fondness  with  thy  native  grace  ; 
Whose  wiles  or  pride,  with  tender  softness  joilJod, 
Lost  the  self-love  imputed  to  thy  kind  ; 
There  would  I  see  thee,  as  before  I  've  seen, 
With  downy  covering,  and  with  graceful  mien. 
Affecting  absence,  or  pretending  sleep. 
Watching  the  fly,  or  on  the  rat  to  leap. 
Whose  deadly  tooth  shall  never  author  spare, 
But  gnaw  alike  Du  Bartas  ^  or  Voltaire  ; 
Or  as  I  've  seen  thee,  with  persuasive  art, 
Purr  round  my  dinner,  and  demand  thy  part ; 
With  vaulted  back,  and  tail  that  waved  aloft, 
Bring  to  my  soothing  hand  thy  ermine  soft ; 
Or  else  disturb,  with  thousand  wanton  bounds. 
The  hand  and  pen  from  which  thy  praise  redounds. 


Beauties  of  the  country.  Hints  to  the  poets  of  nature. 
Horace.  City  poets,  affectation  of.  Minuteness  of  de- 
scription ridiculous.  Nature,  ditTvi-ent  scL-ni*s  of.  South 
America.  Africa,  horrors  ..|  Wu,-  ,  i,,  ,,  (i,..  ,,  ,|, 
Landscai)e,  man  the  life  of.  i: 
tion  of.     Beasts,  qualitfes  .it.    II  I    ,,  \   , 

visiting  his  uative  country.  I'.n  ,  .1.  .,  i  ij.n,,,,  .,i  <  m,-,' . 
of.  Country,  author's  wisli  fur.  IVtH  Uiii-ctioiis  to 
Virgil,  address  to.    Conclusion. 

ViaiODS   CHARMS  OP   THE  LANDSCAPE. 

Yes  !  the  rich  aspect  of  the  flood  and  fields 
An  endless  source  of  briglitest  landscape  yields  ; 
I  joy  to  see  the  skies,  in  azure  pride, 
Keflected  gayly  in  the  azure  tide  ; 
The  crystal  waves  in  lucid  sheets  expand, 
Or  wind  in  streamlets  through  the  grassy  land  ; 
The  darksome  foliage  of  the  wood  profound  ; 
The  corn  that  sheds  a  yellow  gleam  around  ; 
The  valley  green,  with  smiling  produce  gay, 
The  deepened  concave  of  its  form  display  ; 
Those  hills  that  lift  their  summit  to  the  skies, 
While  at  their  feet  a  boundless  champaign  lies  ; 
As  round  the  world  the  sun  majestic  goes. 
And  o'er  each  scene  a  golden  coloring  throws. 

BLESSEDNESS   OF   THE    RURAL    POET.  —  I.VSIPIDITV   OF    IMITA- 

Blessed  is  the  man,  whose  soul  enjoys  the  sight ; 
But  he  more  blessed  who  sings  the  prospect  bright. 
The  scattered  charms  of  forest  and  of  mead 
Attend  the  summons  of  his  tuneful  reed, 
^  A  French  poet,  statesman,  and  captain  ;  now  forgotten. 


■  DELILLE. 

And  gather  in  his  song  ;  whose  rival  art 
With  Nature's  self  shall  equal  joy  impart. 
Begone,  ye  puny  bards,  whose  irksome  lay 
T\Tiat  oft  was  better  ^aid  again  must  say  ! 
Insipid  rhymers  !  has  your  hackneyed  strain 
Not  yet  culled  all  the  sweets  of  Flora's  reign  ? 
Still  must  we  hear  the  bounding  of  your  sheep? 
Still  to  the  murmurs  of  your  streamlet  sleep? 
Still  must  the  wanton  zephyr  kiss  the  rose. 
Whose  opening  buds  their  blushing  tints  disclose  ? 
When  shall  the  echo  of  your  numbers  cease, 
And  let  the  sylvan  echo  sleep  in  peace  ? 
So  poor  the  strains,  that  Nature's  charms  rehearse  ! 

THE  RtJRAL   POBTRT  OF   HORACE   EDLOGIZED. 

0  !  how  does  Horace,  in  appropriate  verse. 
And  varied  numbers  teeming  with  delight. 
Describe  the  poplar  and  the  pine-tree's  height. 
Beneath  whose  pale  and  darksome  boughs  entwined, 
A  hospitable  shade  the  swain  shall  find, 
And  quaffing  sit ;  while  bubbling  at  his  side 
The  rolling  streamlet  winds  its  rapid  tide  ! 
Nature  with  him  in  endless  bloom  behold  ! 
Thy  song,  scarce  born,  as  Nature's  self  is  old  ! 


To  paint  the  country,  it  must  first  be  loved  ; 
Our  city  poets,  by  its  charms  unmoved, 
Whose  courtly  muse  has  rarely  left  the  town. 
Paint  what  they  've  never  loved,  nor  ever  known  : 

0  !  ne'er  did  they,  'midst  soft  retreats,  inhale 
Eve's  gclitl  air,  or  morning's  dewy  gale  ! 
'■'■■I'l  l"if  llii'ii-  >I0IL^  and  every  lino  betrays 

1  li'   'in  -liiiiil  ih-miised  in  sylvan  lays. 

^^  ii!i  hui>li  liaiiil,  in  richest  words,  they  spread 
llie  crystal  streamlet  and  the  enamelled  mead  ! 
Unless  Aurora  shine  an  opal  throne, 
No  morning  beam  upon  the  East  is  shown  ! 
Sapphires  and  purple  must  her  dress  compose. 
And  every  flower  she  sheds  a  diamond  grows  ! 
They  call  on  Tyre,  Potosi,  to  supply 
The  jonquil's  color,  or  the  rose's  dye  ; 
And  Nature,  best  in  simple  garb  arrayed. 
Must  groan  in  loads  of  silver  and  brocade  ; 
While  pearls  and  rubies  o'er  her  dress  are  placed, 
Their  hand  disfigures  what  it  should  have  graced  ! 

ANECDOTE  OF  ZEDXIS  AND  THE  PAINTER. 

Painters  and  bards,  by  kindred  ties  allied. 
Let  Zeuxis'  words  your  several  efforts  guide  : 
An  upstart  painter,  emulous  of  fame. 
Would  once  portray  the  laughter-loving  dame. 
With  fruitless  zeal  ;   no  happy  lines  e.'ipressed 
The  fleshy  roundness  of  the  well-formed  breast ; 
The  bust  harmonious  and  voluptuous  arms. 
Her  lovely  features  and  her  graceful  charms  ; 
But  gold  and  jewels  shone  with  lavish  cost. 
And  Venus  lay  in  loads  of  drapery  lost. 
'  Rash  fool,  forbear,'  the  impatient  Zeuxis  said  ; 
'  Instead  of  beauty,  thou  hast  wealth  portrayed.' 


SUMMER  —  AUGUST. 


285 


UlNCTK  POKTS  SATIRIZED. 

Yc  tastoloss  barda  !  to  you  the  worlds  belong  : 
That  wliioh  you  lovo  alone  should  grace  your  song  : 
Yet  still  descend  not,  in  your  moan  pursuit, 
Tliose  biirds  to  imitate,  whoso  care  miiiuto 
Prefers  Linna<u3  to  the  Mantuan  awain, 
And  gives  to  trifling  beauties  lavish  pain  ; 
That  to  tho  microscope  their  object  bring, 
And  waste  their  pencils  on  an  insect's  wing. 
So  novice  artists,  that  with  labored  care, 
In  female  charms,  describe  the  nails  and  hair. 
Leave  brighter  beauties  by  their  art  untraccd. 
To  paint  a  mole,  beneath  the  bosom  placed. 

RURAL  POETS  SUOPLD  GIVE  BRBADTII  TO  TUKIR  PICTFRKS. 

Enlarge  thy  style  :  if  o'or  by  morning's  light, 

Withghlll.'ri'Xt.H.l-l    r tin      , tiNi--    ll.i-ht, 

Thint-  ryr   \,A<   «,i,mI.  i-I       '  '■'  i     ",  — 

Whuri-  > 1-  an,  -1 1   <      .        I Iiuw; 

Where  uiil:n,a-  -l^i-,  -i  ,i:J'""-  ''"'    >■>>   "  :~<^"'h 
Or  flocks  unnumbered  whiten  all  the  pluiii  ;  — 
Or  traced  tho  limits  of  th'  horizon  blue, 
Or  circling  hills,  that  fly  before  the  view  ; 
Such  bo  your  model  :  let  your  talents  give 
These  mingled  beauties  through  your  song  to  live. 


Tho  practised  painter  may,  with  skilful  art. 
Bid  striking  objects  from  the  back-ground  start. 
Wouldst  thou  for  nature  all  thy  efforts  use, 
Let  not  a  random  view  these  objects  choose  : 
Let  untaught  fools,  in  fancied  skill,  declare 
That  nature  still  is  regularly  fair  ! 
Yon  trees  majestic,  tapering  to  tho  skies. 
Let  them  (I  grant)  beneath  your  pencil  rise  : 
Hut  yonder  oak,  whose  trunk  so  wildly  bends, 
.^nd  o'er  the  dcscrt-rook  its  arms  extends  ; 
Whose  boughs  fantastic,  and  of  foliage  rude. 
And  shapeless  mass  with  verdure  thinly  strewed, 
Their  rougher  beauty  to  the  sight  display, 
lias  equal  claim  to  live  amidst  your  lay. 

APOSTROPHE  TO  SATCRB. — HER  rSTntING  VARIKTV. 

0,  Nature  !  power  sublime,  yet  lovely  still. 
That  e'en  her  horrors  can  with  beauty  fill  ; 
That  now  the  bosom  melts  to  soft  delight, 
Now,  changed  her  aspect,  shivers  with  affright ; 
Now,  young  ami  K"y.  sho  treads  tho  laughing  vale, 
Her  .•i|in;i,liiiL'  L-;ii  iii.iit^  fluttering  to  the  galo, 
While  li'iii  ::i'ii  111-  f  he  dewy  colors  flow. 
And  flc.u.  ,~  iiml  ilhh-  liiueath  her  footsteps  grow  ; 
The  morning  sunheains  from  her  smile  arise  ; 
And  in  her  breath  the  balmy  zephyr  sighs  ; 
The  tuneful  song,  that  bids  the  wood  rejoice. 
And  murmuring  streamlet,  are  her  changing  voice; 
Now,  o'or  some  wild  enthroned,  'midst  mountains 
Whore  wintry  stores  in  icy  heaps  appear,       [drear. 
With  antique  pines  her  towering  brow  is  crowned. 
That  in  the  whirlwind  clash  with  awful  sound, 
Whilst  round  her  sides  tho  foamy  torrent  streams. 
And  in  her  eye  the  fiery  lightning  gleams. 


Her  voice,  in  thunders  or  volcanoes  dread, 
bids  tho  earth  tremble  to  its  loweat  bed  ! 

DlFriClLTT  Of  BBSDBRISO  JC8T1CE  TO  THE  BEAITIES  OP 

Ah  !  who  shall  seize,  in  all  their  varied  light. 
The  changing  beauty  of  her  prospects  bright? 
Or  paint  her  works,  with  pomp  sublimely  crowned, 
From  the  high  mountain  to  tho  vale  profound  ; 
From  the  proud  woods,  whoso  heads  the  sky  assail. 
To  tho  low  violet  that  loves  the  dale  ! 

TROPICAL    SCBSERV.  —  THE    AMAZOX,    OROSOCO,     AND 
LA    PLATA.— THE  ANDES. 

Now  let  thy  muse,  where  grander  scenes  invite, 
O'or  tho  wide  ocean  wing  her  daring  flight 
To  other  climes,  beneath  whoso  fervid  airs 
A  richer  garb  each  circling  season  wears  ; 
'Midst  the  bright  lustre  of  this  ardent  zone, 
Let  Amazon  and  Oronociue  be  shown, 
Tho  mount's  bold  suns,  that  rival  ocean's  wave. 
As  half  the  universe  they  proudly  lave,       [hurled. 
And  drain  those  summits,  wliencc  their  stream  is 
The  vastest  heights,  that  tower  above  the  world  ! 
And  near  who.se  sides,  in  brightest  verdure  dressed, 
liirds,  out  of  number,  bathe  the  downy  breast. 

■HE  GREAT  RIVERS  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA  AXD 


Now,  slow  and  deep,  in  state  majestic  spread, 
Calm  glides  the  water  o'er  its  silent  bed  ! 
Now  rush  the  billows  through  each  trembling  shore, 
Fatiguing  echo  with  the  dreadful  roar  ! 
Their  weight  enormous,  and  their  thundering  sound. 
Seems    hurled   from   heaven,   not   rolling   on   the 

l»;M,,t  II       I ',  tlieir  various  birds  and  flowers, 

Wli         1,1    1 11,1  <  in  gay  luxuriance  showers  ; 

Tl,-   I'  i  1 I  I  — 1,1  iif  the  boundless  wood, 

t;i(,omy  as  night,  lliat  since  the  world  has  stood  ; 
Those  trees  and  fields,  that  law  nor  master  own  ; 
Those   orchards    bright,    that    grew    from  chance 

United  flocks,  and  corn  that  ne'er  was  sown  ! 
Paint  all  the  wonders  of  this  distant  land. 
Where  Nature  towers,  majestically  grand  ! 
Compared  to  which,  our  Apennine  's  a  hill  ; 
Our  forests,  copse  ;  our  Danube,  but  a  rill  ! 

NATURAL  FEATURES  OF  AFRICA. — SANDS.  —  SERPENTS. — 

Now  turn  thy  numbers  from  these  fertile  lands, 
.■\nd  paint  the  mournful  space  of  Afric  sands  ! 
Where  arid  fields,  that  never  verdure  knew. 
Or  drank  of  limpid  stream  or  falling  dew, 
Burnt  to  the  quick,  forever  thirst  in  vain, 
And  fruitful  life  seems  exiled  from  the  plain  ! 
Let  the  hot  sky  and  burning  soil  conspire 
T  illume  your  pictures,  and  your  numbers  fire  : 
Let  the  dread  hydra,  hissing  through  your  song, 
In  furrows  roll  his  scaly  rings  along  ; 
Or  frightful  dragon  raise  his  crested  head,  [spread; 
While    swelling   vanom    through   his   veins    shall 


RURAL    POETRY.- 


Andli-ht  his  cnl.ir,  ;,t  t!T  ,,ili  "I  .lay  : 

Nijwk-t  llir  liniii.' i"M"l '■  '"'ai- 

Theuiillll.;.!  .-;n,.lalnhl-l    !':,■    -I.,  i  kri.wl  air  ; 
Roused  by  the  swct-iJiug  sti.iii],  i..t  tigers  fell 
And  keen  hyenas  join  the  dismal  yell, 
Or  the  proud  lion,  in  his  awful  roar, 
Through  echoing  woods  his  lordly  fury  pour. 


Thence  guide  the  Muse  where  earth's  last  confine 
lies,  [rise, 

Where  winter  dwells,  and  where  the  north-winds 
And  pour  incessant  from  their  stormy  seat 
The  fleecy  snow-fall  and  the  cutting  sleet, 
Or  balls  congealed  that  drive  with  rattling  sound, 
And  fall  on  earth,  and  from  the  earth  rebound. 
The  slty's  cold  horror  let  the  Muse  detail. 
Till  f;ini-v  -!iii.l'lrr  nt  the  freezing  tale. 

Yete\<n' I     t  ;r  i;race  appears, 

WhevL  \\ I y  [lalace  rears  ; 

Whose  l.iniii-lail  -I'll    ,  III  richest  colors  bright, 
Those  prisuis  display,  tliat  dazzle  on  the  sight, 
In  thousand  changing  hues  reflected  play. 
And  break  the  splendor  of  the  solar  ray  ; 
Where  from  the  r.i.li^  thf  i.i.O.-  depend, 
And  moving  lustre-  will,  iln    i-im-i  ne  bend  ; 
Where  glittering  rn:i(.  i  he  1 1  enil.l  in^-  reeds  surround, 

UilZ/.lill-    r\|,;.ll-r    '     nil. ill    Hiln.r   ilrSrl'twidC 

Their   ra|,..|    .:i,     ll., ,.   ,-|    l.;i;-l:iii,|   guidC, 

While  -liiliiii;  ll,4hlly,  a-  the   i  ii  nil. 'el's  fly, 

Their  floating  i-eins  m  loose  disorder  lie. 


THE   TEMPERATE   ZONE 

From  these  dread  prospects  let  the  Muse  a 

Flyt.,  that  .h.a,.r-|,„t,lirr  nan.,,  plain. 

And  trllllielatr  l,i>  ,  /,  .  lihai  ainliy  the  skios 
There  let  her  sin^'  uui  iulmiIuus,  shrubs,  and 
The  tuneful  thicket  and  the  murmuring  floo( 
Our  blushing  fruits,  that  softer  colors  grace. 
Our  humbler  flocks,  and  Flora's  modest  race 
And,  poor  of  plumage,  but  of  richest  voice, 
Again  let  Philomel  our  woods  rejoice. 


Suffice  it  not  to  paint  the  scenes  you  view  ; 
As  well  as  paint  them,  you  must  interest  too. 
Oft  be  spectators  in  your  pictures  seen, 
And  frequent  actors  tread  your  sylvan  scene. 
Let  man  see  man  in  every  line  you  trace  ; 
The  world's  chief  honor  is  the  human  race. 
Deprived  of  man,  the  first  and  best  abode 
Is  a  lone  temple,  that  demands  its  God. 
But  life  and  culture,  movement  and  delight. 


And  Am 
Onynn.i 
Place  Ihui. 


Let  dancing  swains  the  flowery  valley  tread. 
And  bathing  nymphs  adorn  the  river's  bed. 
That  trembling  still,  and  flUed  with  vain  alarms. 
Scarce  to  the  wave  will  thrust  their  secret  charms  ; 
At  every  noise  they  start  with  wild  afi'right, 
Blush  at  themselves,  and  dread  each  other's  sight. 
Some  Faun  be  near,  that  eyes  the  lucid  tide, 
And  rashly  draws  the  leafy  fence  aside. 


Should  man  be  wanting  to  thy  rustic  strain, 
Supply  his  absence  with  the  bestial  train  ; 
Whether  through  woods,  in  savage  pride,  they  roam. 
Or,  with  mankind,  prefer  the  peaceful  home  ; 
Those  that  a-  y  lerai-  fii.  n  1-  i.r  slaves  attend, 

That  rise  r.l i  , i-ive  bend  ; 

That  cowan  1-  I   .  i    ■    mhardydeed; 

Whose  wool  ana\  ■  ii-  ni  uhc-r  milk  may  feed. 
If  those  which  Berghcm's  laugliing  scenes  disclose. 
Or  from  the  tints  of  Wouverman  arose, 
Can  interest  give  ;   shall  not  the  poet's  lyre 
T..  e.|iial  uariiilli  and  .■.inal  -kill  aspire? 
Pnu.l  llnai  a-  H.ll  ;    -111..-  i.a.ly  at  thy  voice, 

Th,.  -yU all.  -.  Ill  ixhaii-lless  choice. 

But  wait  the  tuueh  uf  thy  prulific  hand, 

To  spring  to  life,  and  animate  the  land. 

If  chance  the  leaves  should  quiver  in  the  breeze, 

Trembling  like  them,  the  starting  roebuck  flees, 

As  lightning  prompt,  and  quicker  than  the  eye  ; 

In  peaceful  state  the  cattle  grazing  nigh, 

Swell  the  rich  udder,  pendent  to  the  ground. 

While  close  beside  their  sportive  offspring  bound. 

But  further  on,  if  chance  the  echoing  horn, 

Or  female  neigh,  along  the  gale  be  borne, 

The  impatient  courser  leaps  the  lofty  mound. 

Whose  thorny  barrier  skirts  his  pasture  round  ; 

In  all  the  pride  of  beauty  and  of  blood, 

lie  seeks  the  coolness  of  the  well-known  flood  ; 

Or,  gay  and  wanton,  leaves  the  plain  behind, 

And  snuEfs  the  females  in  the  passing  wind  ; 

Scarce  do  his  feet  the  tender  herbage  graze  ; 

His  mane,  uplifted,  undulating  plays  ; 

Love,  youth,  and  pride,  each  graceful  movement  fill; 

Ills  beating  steps  resound  to  Fancy  still  ! 

HOW     TO     MAKE     ANIMALS      MOST      INTERESTING.  —  BOFFOS'S 

Still  greater  interest  would  thy  efforts  show  ? 
Let  every  beast  with  human  passions  glow  ; 
Give  them  our  hopes,  our  pleasure,  and  our  pain. 
And  one  link  nearer  draw  the  social  chain. 
In  vain  would  Buffon,  jealous  of  their  fame. 
Still  inconsistent,  bear  the  aspiring  claim  ; 
Would  vainly  see  them,  as  a  fair  machine. 
Whose  grosser  life  is  moved  by  springs  unseen  ; 
For  in  his  pa^e,  that  Nature's  sons  inspire, 
Ea  ill  ;;aiii-  a  in.iih.ii  of  Promethean  fire. 
\\  Lai  I.  Mil   ll'  .'  liiii  nt  in  the  dog  ho  shows  ! 
A\  111, I  il"  ili    [Hi   lie  on  the  ox  bestows  ! 
Wliil'j  n  us'jd  tii  il'-'iy,  proud  of  what  he  bears. 


SDMMER  —  AUGUST. 


287 


The  stcL-d  with  man  the  prido  of  conquest  shares, 
Each  beast  by  him  in  native  rights  enthroned, 
Its  90|)orat«  law  ond  separate  manner  owned. 
Did  not  the  muse,  that  sung  in  earliest  ago, 
Leave  rieli  examples  for  the  future  sage  ? 
She  who  of  old,  through  all  her  pieturod  plan. 
To  gods  raised  mortals,  and  the  beast  to  man. 
See  generous  chiefs,  in  lIomei'*8  deathless  song, 
Harangue  their  coursers  in  th'  embattled  throng  ; 
Onoo  more  Ulysses'  dog  his  master  eyes. 
And,  moving  sight !  he  lieks  his  feet  and  dies. 

INTBREST   OIVBS  TO   ANIUALS    BV    LlCBKTirS   AND   VIBGIL.  - 
TUB  COMPANIONLBSS   STKBtt.  —  THE   TWO   Bl'LLS. 

Too  eloquent  Lucretius,  how  thy  song, 
And  thine,  0  Virgil,  lead  the  mind  along  ! 
How,  when  ye  celebrate  the  bestial  train. 
Ye  bid  it  yield  to  pleasure  or  to  pain  ! 
Now  with  the  hind  soft  pity's  tear  1  shed, 
And  loose  the  steer,  that  weeps  his  comrade  dead  : 
Two  chiefs,  whose  rule  the  circling  herds  obey. 
Now  rush  with  fury  to  the  dreadful  fray  ; 
No  more  like  bulls  appearing  to  the  sight. 
But  haughty  kings,  whom  rival  views  excite, 
.^rmed  for  their  Helen  and  imperial  state. 
Urged  by  ambition,  and  inflamed  with  hate. 
Their  foreheads  stern  with  Jireful  fury  clash, 
And  the  full  dewlaps  on  each  other  lash  ; 
While  mingled  notes  of  love  and  vengeance  pour. 
Heaven's  concave  echoes  with  the  sullen  roar  ; 
The  gazing  herds  in  awful  silence  stay, 
Till  conquest  tell  them  which  they  must  obey. 


Turn  from  this  view  of  warfare  and  affright, 
Where  softer  scenes  to  softer  thoughts  invite. 
Yon  mournful  heifer  scarce  has  learned  to  boast 
A  mother's  fondness,  ere  her  offspring 's  lost. 
Through  all  the  mazes  of  the  darksome  grove 
Her  voice  demands  this  early  pledge  of  love  ; 
Her  plaintive  cries  from  liill  and  rock  rebound  ; 
He  only  utters  no  responsive  sound. 
No  more  the  cooling  shade  or  waters  sped. 
In  soothing  murmurs,  o'er  their  pebbled  bed  ; 
No  more  the  shrub,  embathod  in  morning  rain, 
Or  freshened  grass,  where  dewdrops  still  remain. 
Can  tempt  her  now  ;  her  footsteps  still  explore 
The  well-known  fold,  or  trace  the  forest  o'er  ; 
Again  o'er  each  she  strays  with  plaintive  moan. 
Again  returns,  despairing  and  alone. 
Where  beats  the  heart  so  hardened  as  to  view 
Her  tender  sorrow,  and  not  feel  it  too? 


Even  to  the  tree,  the  water,  and  the  flower. 
The  poet's  art,  in  self-<reated  power, 
A  feigned  existence,  fancied  soul,  may  give. 
Where  all  concurs  to  make  th'  illusion  live. 
See  round  the  sod  those  waters  fondly  twine. 
Those  boughs  eiubraco,  and  yonder  circling  vino 
Its  amorous  folds  around  the  elm-troo  coil. 


And  shun  the  contact  of  a  hostile  soil. 

Let  the  fond  instinct  of  the  plant  or  tide 

To  flight.)  sublime  your  hardy  fictions  guide  : 

Lit  tlic  young  bud  the  tepid  zephyr  woo, 

.\nd  dread  the  season  when  the  north-winds  blow  ; 

Yon  thirsty  lily,  ere  its  foliage  shrink,         [drink  ; 

Poured  by  thy  hand,  the  wished-fur  stream  should 

To  yonder  tree  its  right  direetion  give. 

While  yet  its  docile  boughs  the  bent  receive  ; 

Or  let  the  trunk  admire  a  grafted  fruit 

Yon  temler  shoot  riilundant  foliage  bears  ; 
Yet  check  the  knife  in  pity  to  his  years. 
Thanks  to  your  skill,  surveyed  in  Fancy's  eye. 
In  every  tree  an  equal  I  descry  ; 
Its  good  or  ill  my  feeling  bosom  tries  ; 
E'en  for  a  plant  my  sorrows  learn  to  rise  ! 

LNTKBEST  OIVEX  TO  SCBSES  BY  TUB  ASSoaATmSS  Of  cniLD- 
MOOD,  BTC. 

Sometimes  these  scenes,  in  native  beauty  bright. 
From  fund  remembrance  gather  new  delight. 
Rich  through  your  strains  each  happy  spot  appears: 
Yet  sliouMst  thou  add,  •  There  rose  my  infant  years; 
There  broke  the  light  upon  my  early  view  ; 
There  first  my  beating  heart  to  pleasure  flew  ;  ' 
How  does  my  soul  the  reenllcction  prize  ! 

Back  to  the  dM mi  11 m,  fmrv  flies. 

When,  twenty  \  n  •    i      i    :tW.ence  passed. 

Again  I  saw  rm   .  ,-     .    <  .(  ia<t. 

Scarce    o'er    Limagna's    plain    had    Jlout-d'or's 
height 
In  the  dim  back-ground  gleamed  upon  my  sight. 
My  heart  beat  quick  :  no  more  my  eye  surveyed 
The  verdant  upland  or  the  lowly  glade  ; 
My  soul  impatient,  that  outstripped  his  speed. 
Accused  the  slowness  of  the  rapid  steed, 
And,  onward  flying,  called  the  dearer  spot 
Near  to  my  heart,  and  ne'er  to  be  forgot : 
At  length  arrived,  wherever  roved  my  eyes. 
Some  fond  remembrance  still  would  love  to  rise. 
There  stood  the  tree,  that  zephyrs  gently  tanned. 
And  swept  my  castles  tract'tl  upnn  the  >aod  ; 
Here,  too,  the  stone  my  iiiiiiii  im-.  i    lin  m.  [anew. 
Skimmed  o'er  the  Ink.  .  ,.     i    i    .    .  i    ,    i   -kimincd 
What  raptured  bliss  tlii^n      ,   ,:    .  ,  ,,,  -l„wed, 

When  first  embracing,  \ilalu  iji>  i,.u  ,  ..pillowed. 
The  hoary  swain  that  staid  my  early  tread, 
The  nurse  whose  milk  my  infant  lips  had  fed. 
And  the  sago  pastor  that  my  childhood  led  ! 
Oft,  too,  I  cried,  '  Ye  scenes,  in  beauty  dressed, 
Where  my  first  years  my  first  desires  expressed. 
That  saw  mo  born,  that  marked  me  as  I  grew. 
Ah !  where  the  pleasures  which  my  childhood  knew  ? ' 


Lot  not  the  pleasing  theme  engross  my  strain  ! 
Come,  then,  yo  painters  of  the  varied  plain. 
Present  those  scenes  that  claim  your  fondest  love, 
And  through  them  all  let  gay  existence  move. 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  DELILLE. 


1  let  contrast's  powerful  aid  be  tri( 
Place  Vice  and  Innocence  on  adverse  side  ; 
To  sights  of  terror  softer  views  oppose, 
And  sylvan  pleasures  to  the  city  woes. 

PARIS.  —  ITS  CONTRASTS.  —  THE  LODVUE  —  PBIDE  AN 


From  yonder  uplands,  on  whose  sloping  side 
The  domes  of  Paris  rise  in  marble  pride, 
While  o'er  its  temples  vast  your  glances  stray, 
And  stately  Louvre,  — shall  your  bosom  say  : 
*  For  thy  amusement,  queen  of  cities  round, 
Are  arts  and  wealth  in  brightest  union  found. 
Celestial  music,  finely-chiselled  forms, 
And  deathless  works,  that  native  genius  warms.' 
Yet  soon  forgetful  of  the  specious  view,  [too  ; 

Thou*l£  add:  'There   pride  and  meanness  flourish 
On  every  side,  and  placed  in  contrast  near, 
The  pangs  of  wealth  and  misery  appear  ; 
AVhilo  countless  crimes,  that  many  a  land  supplies, 
Together  brought,  in  fermentation  rise  : 
Of  glunniy  ini^-n.  disdaining  lawful  love, 
Sec  :.!i<l  l'i--n-t  t(i  \  n-iuus  pleasure  move  ; 
Or  I'll' I.  ,-^' li-iiiui'b  I .  maddening  through  the  soul, 
Sh)iii>  n  III.    -ir,  1.  .,i  mix  the  poisoned  bowl  : 
Here,  tuu.  in  Uiwk.-.^  I.auds,  the  harlot  train,  — 
The  shame  of  Chastity,  and  Hymen's  bane,  — 
In  living  tombs,  where  plaintive  sickness  lies, 
That  cruel  Charity  has  taught  to  rise, 
'Midst  crowded  walls,  that  reek  with  tainted  breath, 
Incessant  swells  the  mournful  list  of  death  : 
Here  hireling  robbers  watch  th'  accomplice  band, 
And  ]in*iiit^  jn-nff  on  public  vice  must  stand  : 
In  dail>.'iiii    'bti-  <'t  ■^unk  and  haggard  eye, 
The  <\-\'-  vAir  ..'HNK  -iri-  tlirows  the  fatal  die  : 
What  nntr|,..|  inlants,  in  the  cradle  left. 
Of  mother's  l..ve,  and  father's  smile  bereft! 
What  secret  woes  are  there  !  what  hidden  guilt ! 
What  tears  are  she'd  !  alas  !  what  blood  is  spilt  ! ' 


From  these  sad  scenes,  that  shuddering  Nature 
Let  sylvan  views  relax  the  sorrowing  eyes.      [flies, 
From  powerful  contrast  more  inviting  grows 
The  shade  and  stream  ;  more  soft  the  zephyr  blows  ; 
The  heart,  that  shrunk,  by  city-woes  oppressed, 
Once  mure  expands  itself  on  Nature's  breast  ! 
Thus  when  to  liousseau,  in  his  much-loved  shade, 
In  distant  view  proud  Paris  stood  displayed  : 
'  City  of  mire,  of  smoke,  and  noisy  pain, 
Where  Vice  ami  ^'i^tllt■  iiiidistin;;uished  reign  ; 
How  blessed  tin.'  man.  w  ln'.  Ii-.m  thy  tumults  free, 

Then  sudden  turned,  his  hiM.iiir  \\;ilk>  In;  si>iiii:lit, 
Nor  broke  the  silence  nf  In-  i-rn-n  ,■  ilimi^lii. 


vhen,  alas  !  shall  he  uliuse  rural  strains 

low  t'  inhabit  and  adorn  the  plains, 

hose  scenes  where  most  he  would  delight? 


0  !  fields  beloved,  when  will  ye  bless  my  sight  ? 
When  may  I  now  my  peaceful  slumbers  take  ; 
Now  with  choice  books  amuse  me  as  I  wake  ; 
Now  deck  with  simple  grace  my  rustic  bowers, 
And  idly  pass  awAy  the  listless  hours  ; 
Drink  sweet  oblivion  of  life's  careful  lot, 
Unknown  to  man,  and  man  by  me  forgot  ? 


Let  countless  figures  shine  throughout  your  song; 
]\lix  gay  with  sad,  the  gentle  with  the  strong  ; 
Still  let  your  tone  its  several  objects  tell  ; 
For  sound  and  sense  together  still  should  dwell. 
In  airy  Hues  let  zephyr  lightly  blow  ; 
If  smooth  the  stream,  smooth  let  thy  numbers  flow  ; 
Hear'st  thou  the  torrent  roaring  from  its  rock  ! 
Let  the  loud  verse  resound  the  thundering  shock  ; 
When  the  slow  oxen  labor  o'er  the  plain, 
At  every  word  should  drag  the  weighty  strain  ; 
When  the  fleet  roebuck  flies  and  (tits  ihr  ;nr, 
The  verse  should  follow  like  tin.'  Ii,L;liiiiiM-'-  -l;irt;. 
Thus  let  your  song,  that  runs  in  nifa-urcd  w>{r. 
Express  each  movement,  and  each  thought  denote. 


DEFECTS   OF  ffiS   SCBJECT. 

Too  blessed  thy  Muse,  if  verdant  wood  or  mead, 
Or  sunny  day,  shall  animate  her  reed  ; 
For,  when  her  lay  some  sylvan  rule  imparts, 
Then  should  she  practise  her  poetic  arts  ; 
If  bare  the  precept,  she  must  grace  supply  ; 
If  sad,  enliven  ;  vulgar,  dignify. 


The  harsher  tone  of  precept  to  unbend, 
Take  space  for  breathing,  and  thy  course  suspend  ; 
To  cheer  thy  reader  on  his  weary  road, 
Join  to  thy  rules  some  well-timed  episode. 
When  Homer  sings  the  labor  of  the  fields, 
A  sweet  example  for  this  rule  he  yields  ; 
Oft  as  the  ox  achieves  the  furrowed  lino, 
Drenched,  by  his  master's  hand,  with  purest  wine, 
His  goaded  sides  forget  the  smarting  pain  ; 
Gayly  he  turns  to  rustic  toils  again. 
Thus  let  thy  muse  with  sweet  digression  stray, 
And  smooth,  with  softened  note,  her  rougher  lay  ; 
This  done,  pursue  thy  course  with  eager  bent, 
And  trace  thy  subject  to  its  last  extent. 

But  why  these  lengthened  counsels  shouldst  thou 
Receive  one  general  lesson  in  their  stead  ;      [need  ? 
Read  Virgil's  song  !     With  what  harmonious  grace 
Hf  calls  to  sylvan  toil  th'  Ausonian  race  ! 
W  InrrV'r  the  rustic  scene  his  pencil  tries, 
'ii  iM   ;.-  the  fields  themselves  his  pictures  rise  ; 
"'I'  IS  nature  still  ;  not  yonder  limpid  stream, 
Where  the  pale  shepherd  sees  his  image  gleam, 
More  truly  gives  us,  from  its  azure  breast. 
The  blossomed  flowers  in  which  its  sides  are  dressed. 


SUMMER — AUGUST. 


Singg  ho  the  swains,  their  concert  or  their  lores, 
The  Golden  Ago  through  every  couplet  moves. 
Read  Virgil,  then  ;  blessed  if  the  stmin  you  love  ! 
IIow  wretched  ho  whom  Virgil  cannot  move  ! 
When  in  soft  sounds,  to  which  the  boaom  yields, 
He  cries,  '  0  happy  sire  !  that  kept  thy  fields  :  * 
My  soul  partakes  the  hoary  shepherd's  lot, 
The  close  ho  planted/ and  his  native  cot ; 
With  him  I  hear  the  murmurs  of  the  dove, 
And  tho  wild-pigeon  cooing  forth  his  lovo  ; 
The  bee,  that  buzzes  o'er  the  florid  plain, 
And  mountain,  vocal  with  the  woodman's  strain, 
And  grove  and  stream  ;  for  ne'er  in  truer  dress 
Did  painter  yet  fair  Nature's  form  express. 
But  what  soft  accents  on  my  cars  are  borne  ? 
'T  is  Gallus'  strains,  his  Lyooris  that  mourn. 
His  absent  Lycoris  !  his  notes  entreat 
The  piercing  ice  to  spare  her  tender  feet ! 


When  first  my  muse  aspired  to  Nature's  praise. 

With  strictest  care  my  ravished  eye  pursued 

Her  changing  scenes  through  mountain,  mead,  or 

Back  to  thy  page  my  rapt  attention  came,    [wood  : 

And  saw  that  thou  and  Nature  were  tho  same  ! 

Forgive  my  muse,  if  emulous  to  raise 

Some  scattered  foliage,  dropping  from  thy  bays. 

Thy  song  she  imitates  with  hardy  zeal, 

And  fail  to  paint  what  Fancy  well  can  feel  ! 

Thy  numbers  first  inspired  her  earliest  flight  ; 

They  gave  no  glory,  but  they  gave  delight. 


Virgil !  my  guide,  and  god  of  pastoral  lays, 

Note.  —  The  allusion  to  the  Princess  Czartorinska,  in 
Canto  I.  of  the  prcccaing  poem,  is  best  explained  by  the 
following  extracts  from  the  elegant  epistles  which  passed 
between  the  princess  and  poet. 

To  M.  PAbb^  DeUUe :  '  Forgive  me,  sir,  ifl  break  in  upon 
your  leisure :  you  must  lay  the  fault  upon  your  reputation 
and  works,  that  a  whole  society  shnuld  address  itself  to  you 
for  the  completion  of  nn  otu'ect  they  have  in  view.  AsseniM  'I 
together  in  a  small  hamlet  where  we  principally  nsi!!-, 
friendship,  inclination,  consanguinity,  and  a  conformit>  <  : 
manners,  bind  us  together;  everything  concurs  to  giv.  u- 
a  hope  that  we  shall  never  be  sepunU'd. 


Is^in^,   u ,..i. 

NutlMU„l.l   ;Lil      :':.       ■    r 

0  would  thr  -.    i      I       : 

Grant  tho  ?mI. 

In  ray  lovcil  ti'M      .m  ■ 
And  live  for  books,  my 


'Uisr 


treat 


j?ry 


poem  of  "  The  < 


factfs  of  ,1  r  ,   I    ,     |,,;  I      ,,n  one  side,  Pope,  Milton, 

Youn;.',  ^  I  -  .  ;  I  .  i;:iritie,  and  Kousseau  ;  on  the 
other,  I'-ti  II  !,,  \i,Hi  II,  ^l■■^;^3ta^io,  Tasso,  and  La  Fon- 
taine ;  on  lilt?  ilin-d,  >l;i(iame  de  Sevigni;,  iMadarae  Ricco- 
boni^  MuUiunc  du  lu  Fayette,  Madame  des  Iluullt-rea,  and 
Sappho  ;  and  on  the  fourth,  Virgil,  Gesner,  Gresset,  and  the 
AbW  Delille.     Each  side  will  be  accompanied  with  trees, 


'Thr 


The  1 


lily,  with  beds  of  violets 
*ide ;  Petrarch,  Anacreon, 
tie }  and  Tasso,  the  laurel. 
■  the  ; 


V'ung, andUacine:  asforthe 
fourth  sui^-.  in..-  s...  i..iy  wm  dioose  for  it  whatever  may  ap- 
pear most  a^rcciiblc  m  tlicir  orchards,  woods,  and  meadows-, 
and  each  inhabitant  will  plant  some  tree  or  shrub  to  per- 
petuate the  memory  of  those  authors  who  have  given  them 
a  taste  for  rural  life,  and  thereby  contributed  to  their  happi- 

*  They  only ' 
their  idea,  and 

at  the  foot  of  the  monument,  ami  the  whole  hamlet,  with 
one  v.>ice,  has  fixed  upon  you  as  its  author.  We  request 
it  as  well  from  your  heart  as  your  ingenuity.  This  homage,. 


of  my  lonely  rock,  [shock, 
rth  with  Discord's  dreadful 
i-'e  and  unconfincd, 


'  We  beg  you, 
sentiments  with  which  we  are, 
Answer.  — '  Mjidame  :  The 


give  credit  to  the  very  distinguished 

you  have  done  me  the 
Constantinople,  whither 


This  is  the  sole 


uliiudc  and  Irunquillit}'  . 
»    I  Uiink  it  will  be  suf- 


'  The  inscription,  as  you  see,  is  written  in  our  language, 
or  rather  in  yours  ;  it  belongs  to  you,  in  right  of  the  graces 
you  add  to  It  j  and  I  may  say,  with  Voltaire, 


(It  is 
'I  imagine  i 


language  in  which  you  daily  convey 


Ilustir   §a(lah  for   .^luiust. 

HOOD'S   "RUTH." 

COLLINS'S   "  FIDELE'S  TOMB." 

She  stood  breast  high  amid  the  corn, 

To  fair  Fidele's  grassy  tomb 

Clasped  by  the  golden  light  of  morn, 

Soft  maids  and  village  hinds  shall  bring 

Like  the  sweetheart  of  the  sun. 

Each  opening  sweet,  of  earliest  bloom, 

Who  many  a  glowing  kiss  had  won. 

And  rifle  all  the  breathing  Spring. 

On  her  cheek  an  autumn  flush 

No  wailing  ghost  shall  dare  appear. 

Deeply  ripened  ;  —such  a  blush 

To  vex  with  shrieks  this  quiet  grove, 

In  the  midst  of  brown  was  born. 

But  shepherd  lads,  assemble  here, 

Like  red  poppies  grown  with  corn. 

And  melting  virgins,  own  their  love. 

Round  her  eyes  her  tresses  fell, 

Nowitl,..va«ilrl,  .iK.Il  hfre  be  seen. 

Which  were  blackest  none  could  tell ; 

N.i  -nl.li,,.  Ir;„l  Hirir  ) , igh tly  crc w  ; 

But  long  lashes  veiled  a  light 

The  lr,i,;,L   i;,v-  .li;,i|  liiiuiit  thc  grccu, 

That  had  else  been  all  too  bright. 

And  .1..-.  thy  ^r,;,j,.  ,vitlj  pearly  dew  : 

And  her  hat,  with  shady  brim, 

The  red-breast  oft  at  evening  hours 

Made  her  tressy  forehead  dim  ;  — 

Shall  kindly  lend  his  little  aid. 

Thus  she  stood  amid  the  stocks, 

fl'ith  hoary  moss,  and  gathered  flowers, 

Praising  God  with  sweetest  looks  :  — 

To  deck  the  ground  where  thou  art  laid.  *  * 

Sure,  I  said.  Heaven  did  not  mean 

Each  lonely  scene  shall  thee  restore. 

Where  I  reap  thou  shouldst  but  glean  ; 

For  thee  the  tear  be  duly  shed  ; 

Lay  thy  sheaf  adown  and  come  — 

Beloved  till  life  can  charm  no  more  ; 

Share  my  harvest  and  my  home. 
BLOOMFIELD'S   "GLEANER'S  SONG." 

And  mourned,  till  pity's  self  be  dead. 

COWPER'S   "  SHRUBBERY." 

Dear  Ellen,  your  tales  are  all  plenteously  stored 
With  the  joys  of  some  bride,  and  the  wealth  of  her 
Of  her  chariots  and  dresses,            [lord  : 

0,  HAPPY  shades  !  to  me  unblest. 
Friendly  to  peace,  but  not  to  me, 

How  ill  the  scene  that  offers  rest, 
And  heart  that  cannot  rest,  agree  ! 

And  worldly  caresses. 

And  servants  that  fly  when  she 's  waited  upon  : 

This  glassy  stream,  that  spreading  pine. 

But  what  can  she  boast  if  she  weds  unbcloved  7 

Those  alders  quivering  to  the  breeze. 

Can  she  e'er  feel  the  joy  that  one  morning  I  proved. 

Might  soothe  a  soul  less  hurt  than  mine, 

When  I  put  on  my  new  gown  and  waited  for  John? 

And  please,  if  anything  could  please. 

These  fields,  my  dear  Ellen,  I  knew  them  of  yore. 

Yet  to  me  they  ne'er  looked  so  enchanting  before  ; 

The  distant  bells  ringing. 

The  birds  round  us  singing. 

But  fixed,  unalterable  care 

Foregoes  not  what  she  feels  within. 
Shows  the  same  sadness  everywhere. 
And  slights  the  season  and  the  scene. 

For  pleasure  is  pure  when  affection  is  won  : 

For  all  that  pleased  in  wood  or  lawn. 

They  told  me  the  troubles  and  cares  of  a  wife  ; 

While  peace  possessed  these  silent  bowers. 

But  I  loved  him  ;  and  that  was  the  pride  of  my  life, 

Her  animating  smile  withdrawn. 

When  I  put  on  my  new  gown  and  waited  for  John. 

Has  lost  its  beauties  and  its  powers. 

He  shouted  and  ran,  as  he  leaped  from  the  stile  ; 

The  saint  or  moralist  should  tread 

And  what  in  my  bosom  was  passing  the  while  ? 

This  moss-grown  alley,  musing  slow  j 

For  love  knows  the  blessing 

They  seek,  like  me,  the  secret  shade, 

Of  ardent  caressing, 

But  not,  like  me,  to  nourish  woe. 

When  virtue  inspires  us  and  doubts  are  all  gone. 

Me  fruitful  scenes  and  prospects  waste 

The  sunshine  of  fortune  you  say  is  divine  ; 

Alike  admonish  not  to  roam  ; 

True  love  and  the  sunshine  of  nature  were  mine. 

These  tell  me  of  enjoyments  past. 

When  I  put  on  my  new  gown  and  waited  for  John. 

And  those  of  sorrows  yet  to  come. 

|lo]ic's    "c'clliniisov 


forest, 


1  SUBJECT   8TATBD  j     ORAXVIL 


Thy  forests,  Windsor  !  and  thy  green  rotrciits, 
At  once  the  monarch's  and  tho  muse's  seats, 
Invite  my  lays.     Bo  present,  sylvan  maids  ! 
Unlock  your  springs,  and  open  all  your  shades. 
Granville  commands  ;  —your  aid,  0  muses,  bring  !— 
What  muso  for  Granville  can  refuse  to  sing  ! 
Tho  groves  of  Eden,  vanished  now  so  long, 
Live  in  description,  and  look  green  in  song  : 
These,  were  my  breast  inspired  with  equal  flame. 
Like  them  in  beauty,  should  be  like  in  fame. 
Here  hills  and  vales,  the  woodland  and  the  plain, 
Uere  earth  and  water,  seem  to  strive  again  ; 
Not,  chaos-like,  together  crushed  and  bruised, 
liut,  as  the  world,  harmoniously  confused  : 
Where  order  in  variety  we  see. 
And  whore,  though  all  things  differ,  all  agree. 
Hero  waving  groves  a  checkered  scene  display, 
And  part  admit  and  part  exclude  the  day  ; 
.■\s  some  coy  nymph  her  lover's  warm  address 
Xor  quite  indulges,  nor  can  quite  repress  : 
There,  interspersed  in  lawns  and  opening  glades. 
Thin  trees  arise  that  shun  each  other's  shades  : 
Here,  in  full  light  th-  r.i-.-t  ,.|-nnc  oxtend  : 
There,  wrapt  in  .  I  K  i  'n    '    liill- ascend. 

Even  the  wild  h.  a ■  n,ni.lc  dyes  ; 

And 'midst  the  a. -r,  I  lunr.nl  i,.  lU  :.rise, 

That,  crowned  with  tuft.'.l  trues  and  fringing  corn. 

Like  verdant  isles,  tho  snblo  waste  adorn. 

Let  India  boast  her  plants,  nor  envy  wo 

The  weeping  amber  or  the  balmy  tree, 

While  by  our  oaks  the  precious  loads  are  borne, 

And  realms  commanded  which  those  trees  adorn. 


Not  proud  Olympus  yields  a  nobler  sight. 
Though  gods  a-ssembled  grace  his  towering  height. 
Than  what  more  humble  mountains  offer  here. 
Where,  in  their  blessings,  all  those  gods  appear. 
See  Pan  with  flocks,  with  fruits  Pomona  crowned  ; 
Here  blushing  Flora  paints  the  enamelled  ground  ; 
Here  Ceres'  gifts  in  waving  prospect  stand. 
And,  nodding,  tempt  the  joyful  reaper's  hand  ; 
Rich  industry  sits  smiling  on  the  plains, 
And  peace  and  plenty  tell,  a  Stuart  reigns. 

WISDSOB  FOREST  CSDKR  THE  SiVAGB  WILLIAMS. 

Not  thus  the  land  appeared  in  ages  past, 
A  dreary  desert,  and  a  gloomy  waste  ; 
To  savage  beasts  and  savage  laws  a  prey  ; 


-VAHiETT  OP  :  And  kings  more  furious  and  severe  than  they  ; 

i  Who  claimed  tho  skies,  dispeopled  air  and  floods, 
]  Tho  lonely  lords  of  empty  wilds  and  woods  : 

Cities  laid  waste,  they  stormed  the  dens  and  cave.i  - 
'   For  wiser  brutes  were  backward  to  be  slaves. 
!  What  could  be  free,  when  lawless  beasts  obeyed, 
'   And  even  the  elements  a  tyrant  swayed  ? 
I   In  vain  kind  seasons  swelled  the  teeming  grain, 
I   Soft  showers  distilled,  and  suns  grew  warm  in  vain 

The  swain  witli  tears  his  frustrate  labor  yields, 
i   And  famished  dies  amidst  his  ripened  fields. 

,    TT«A.\Sr  OF  WILLIAM  I. ;  ni 
MAKE  TUB  SEW   FOREST  ; 

I       What  wonder,  then,  a  beast  or  subject  slain 
Were  equal  crimes  in  a  despotic  reign  ? 
Both,  doomed  alike,  for  sportive  tyrants  bled  ; 

j   But  whilo  the  subject  starved,  the  beast  was  fed. 

!   Proml  Xinirnd  fir-t  the  h|..™ly  chase  began  ; 


barbarous  name, 
he  royal  game. 
uhi-tii.. us  swains; 
:.-<\-  ili.ir  fanes  :' 


The  field.sarenivishe.M,.  m  ih-  i 

From  men  their  cities,  ;iii  I  ti    ni 

The  levelled  towns  with  ur,  i-  li.   ,->,  n-1  o'er  ; 

The  hollow  winds  thiougli  iiuUed  tciui.les  roar  ; 

Round  broken  columns  clasping  ivy  twined  ; 

O'er  heaps  of  ruins  stalked  the  stately  hind  ; 

Tho  fox  obscene  to  gaping  tombs  retires  ; 

And  savage  bowlings  fill  the  sacred  quires. 

Awed  by  his  nobles,  by  his  commons  curst. 

The  oppressor  ruled  tyrannic  where  ho  durst ; 

Stretched  o'er  tho  poor  and  church  his  iron  rod. 

And  served  alike  his  vassals  and  his  God. 

Whom  even  tho  Saxon  spared,  and  bloody  Dane, 

The  wanton  victims  of  his  sport  remain. 
But  see,  the  man  who  spacious  regions  gave 
A  waste  f"r  beasts,  himself  denied  a  grave  ! 
Stretched  on  tho  lawn,  his  second  hope  survey. 
At  once  the  chaser,  and  at  once  the  prey  : 
Lo  !  Uufus,  tugging  at  the  deadly  dart, 
Bleeds  in  the  forest,  like  a  wounded  hart. 


Succeeding  monarchs  heard  the  subjects'  cries, 
Nor  saw  displeased  tho  peaceful  cottage  rise. 
Then  gathering  flocks  on  unknown  mountains  fed  ; 
O'er  sandy  wilds  were  yellow  harvests  spread  ; 

1  Willianf  the  Conqueror,  though  he  had  sixty-eight  royal 
forests,  laid  waste  a  vast  tract  in  Hampshire,  filled  with  vll- 
lagcs  and  churches,  for  the  New  Forest.    « indsor  FonMl 


RURAL    POETRY.- 


The  forests  wondered  at  the  unusual  grain, 
And  secret  transport  touched  the  conscious  swa 
Fair  Liberty,  Britannia's  goddess,  rears 
Her  cheerful  head,  and  loads  the  golden  years. 


Ye  vigorous  swains  !  while  youth  ferments  your 
And  purer  spirits  swell  the  sprightly  flood,    [blood, 
Now  range  the  hills,  the  gameful  woods  beset, 
Wind  the  shrill  horn,  or  spread  the  waving  net 
When  milder  Autumn  Summer's  heat  succeeds. 
And  in  the  new-shorn  field  the  partridge  feeds, 
Before  his  lord  the  ready  spaniel  bounds. 
Panting  with  hope,  he  tries  the  furrowed  grounds  ; 
But  when  the  tainted  gales  the  game  betray, 
Couched  close  he  lies,  and  meditates  the  prey  ; 
Secure,  they  trust  the  unfaithful  field  beset. 
Till,  hovering  o'er  'em,  sweeps  the  swelling  net. 
Thus  (if  small  things  we  may  with  great  compare) 
When  Albion  sends  her  eager  sons  to  war, 
Some  thoughtless  town,  with  ease  and  plenty  blest, 

Sudden  they  sc-i/''  tin- ;iiii:i/r  i,  ililmceless  prize. 

Sec!  fromthr  1  I  ,,  j  |ihcasantsprings, 

And  mounts,  e.xuluiig,  -li  1.  mi.ii.lumt  wings  : 
Short  is  his  joy  ;  he  feels  the  liery  wound. 
Flutters  in  blood,  and  panting  beats  the  ground. 
Ah  !  what  avails  his  glossy  varying  dyes. 
His  purple  crest,  and  scarlet  circled  eyes  ! 
The  vivid  green  his  shining  plumes  unfold. 
His  painted  wings,  and  breast  that  flames  with  gold  ! 

HDNIXNG    THE    HiRE    IS    WINDSOR    FOREST.  —  THE     FOWLER 

Nor  yet,  when  moist  Arcturus  clouds  the  sky. 
The  woods  and  fields  their  pleasing  toils  deny. 
To  plains  with  well-breathed  beagles  we  repair. 
And  trace  the  mazes  of  the  circling  hare  — 
Beasts,  urged  by  us,  their  fellow-beasts  pursue. 
And  learn  of  man  each  other  to  undo  :  — 
With  slaughtering  guns  the  unwearied  fowler  roves, 
AVhen  frosts  have  whitened  all  the  naked  groves. 
Where  doves  in  flocks  the  leafless  trees  o'ershade. 
And  lonely  woodcocks  haunt  the  watery  glade. 
He  lifts  the  tube,  and  levels  with  his  eye  ; 
Straight  a  short  thunder  breaks  the  frozen  sky  : 
Oft,  as  in  airy  rings  they  skim  the  heath. 
The  clamorous  lapwings  feel  the  leaden  death  : 
Oft,  as  the  mounting  larks  their  notes  prepare, 
They  fall,  and  leave  their  little  lives  in  air. 


In  genial  Spring,  beneath  the  quivering  shade. 
Where  cooling  vapors  breathe  along  the  mead. 
The  patient  fisher  takes  his  silent  standi 
Intent,  his  angle  trembling  in  his  hand  : 
With  looks  unmoved,  ho  Imjic.-  tlir  ^fnlv  firrorl. 
And  eyes  the  dancing  Cull         Pi!,  .  1. 

Our  plenteous  streams  :i  ^    : :  i      I  ^ 

The  bright-eyed  perch,  \\\i\,  i-     .  -   Imimi  .Iw. 


The  silver  eel,  in  shining  volumes  rolled, 
The  yellow  carp,  in  scales  bedropped  with  gold. 
Swift  trouts  diversified  with  crimson  stains, 
And  pikes,  the  tyrants  of  the  watery  plains. 


Now  Cancer  glows  with  Phoebus'  fiery  car  : 
The  youth  rush  eager  to  the  sylvan  war. 
Swarm  o'er  the  lawns,  the  forest  walks  surround. 
Rouse  the  fleet  hart,  and  cheer  the  opening  hound. 
The  impatient  courser  pants  in  every  vein, 
And,  pawing,  seems  to  beat  the  distant  plain  : 
Hills,  vales,  and  floods  appear  already  crossed. 
And,  ere  he  starts,  a  thousand  steps  are  lost. 
See  the  bold  youth  strain  up  the  threatening  steep. 
Rush  through  the  thickets,  down  the  valleys  sweep. 
Hang  o'er  their  coursers'  heads  with  eager  speed  ; 
And  earth  rolls  back  beneath  the  flying  steed. 
Let  old  Arcadia  boast  her  ample  plain. 
The  immortal  huntress,  and  her  virgin-train  ; 
Nor  envy,  Windsor,  since  thy  shades  have  seen 
As  bright  a  goddess,  and  as  chaste  a  queen  : 
Whose  care,  like  hers,  protects  the  sylvan  reign  ; 
The  earth's  fair  light,  and  empress  of  the  main. 


Here  too,  't  is  sung,  of  old  Diana  strayed, 
And  Cynthus'  top  forsook  for  Windsor  shade  ; 
Hero  was  she  seen  o'er  airy  wastes  to  rove, 
SrrI,  till.  r\,':\v  -|.riiig,  OT  hauut  the  pathless  grove  ; 

II  lie,  ;ii  iiH  il  with  silver  bows,  in  early  dawn, 

III  I  I  iiKiii'l  \  il -ins  traced  the  dewy  lawn. 
\i'    I    I'i    I.    t;i  rural  nymph  was  famed, 

'ill  ,:  1  ,.11111's  !  the  fair  Lodona  named  — 

1,.    I       I        I         ■    I. 11^'  oblivion  cast, 

TiiL  jlii^^  .-ii.iii  ^iiig,  and  what  she  sings  shall  last. 

Scarce  could  the  goddess  from  her  nyinph  be  known, 

But  by  the  crescent,  and  the  golden  zone. 

Slie  scorned  the  praise  of  beauty,  and  the  care  ; 

A  belt  her  waist,  a  fillet  binds  her  hair  : 

A  painted  quiver  on  her  shoulder  sounds, 

And  with  her  dart  the  flying  deer  she  wounds. 

It  chanced,  as,  eager  of  the  chase,  the  maid 

Beyond  the  forest's  verdant  limits  strayed. 

Pan  saw  and  loved  ;  and,  burning  with  desire. 

Pursued  her  flight ;  her  flight  increased  his  fire. 

PURSDIT  OF  PAN  ;  LODONA  CHANGED  INTO  A  COLD  STREAM. 

Not  half  SO  swift  the  trembling  doves  can  fly. 
When  the  fierce  eagle  cleaves  the  liquid  sky  ; 
Not  half  so  swiftly  the  fierce  eagle  moves,     [doves. 
When  through  the  clouds  he  drives  the  trembling 
As  from  the  god  she  flew  with  furious  pace, 
Or  as  the  god,  more  furious,  urged  the  chase. 
Now  fainting,  sinking,  pale,  the  nymph  appears  ; 
Now,  close  behind,  his  sounding  steps  she  hears  ; 

Anil  niiw  his  slnidow  reached  her  as  she  run. 

ill-    iiiiilMW  Irii-llRMied  by  the  setting  sun  ; 

Ami  II'  i\  111-  -Im  Iter  breath,  with  sultry  air, 

I'liiit-  "11  ihi  nr.  k.  and  fans  her  parting  hair. 


SUMMER  —  AUGUST. 


In  vain  on  father  Thames  she  calls  for  aid, 

Nor  could  Diana  help  her  injured  maid.         [vain  j 

Faint,  breathless,  thus  she  prayed,  nor  prayed  in 

'  Ah  Cynthia  !  ah!  — though  banished  from  thy  train, 

Let  me,  0  let  me,  to  the  shades  repair, 

My  native  shades  —  there  weep,  and  murmur  there.' 

She  said,  and  melting  as  in  tears  she  lay, 

In  a  soft  silver  stream  dissolved  away. 

The  silver  stream  her  virgin  coldness  keeps, 

Forever  murmurs,  and  forever  weeps  ; 

Still  bears  the  name  the  hapless  virgin  bore. 

And  bathes  the  forest  where  she  ranged  before. 

TUB  RIVER    LODONA  (LODDON)  DESCRIBED. 

In  her  chaste  current  oft  the  goddess  lavos. 
And  with  celestial  teni-s  angmcnt*  the  waves. 
Oft  in  her  gloss  tlir  nm-Mij  •',.  |.Im  i.I  .-pies 
The  headlong  mull  111  iMiward  skies  ; 

The  watery  land.-'' ii  i  ni  woods. 

And  absent  trees  th,  1 1  nimi     m  i!ir  (|„ods  ; 
In  the  clear  azure  gleuui  the  flucks  are  seen. 
And  floating  forests  paint  the  waves  with  green  ; 
Through   the   fair   scene    roll   slow  the    lingering 

streams, 
Then  foaming  pour  along,  and  rush  into  the  Thames. 


Thou,  too,  great  father  of  the  British  floods  ! 
M'ith  joyful  pride  survey'st  our  lofty  woods  ; 
Where  towering  oaks  their  growing  honors  rear. 
And  future  navies  on  thy  shores  appear, 
Not  Neptune's  self  from  all  her  streams  receives 
A  wealthier  tribute  than  to  thine  he  gives. 
No  seas  so  rich,  so  gay  no  banks  appear. 
No  lake  so  gentle,  and  no  spring  so  clear  ; 
Nor  Po  so  swells  the  fabling  poet's  lays, 
M'hile  led  along  the  skies  his  current  strays. 
As  thine,  which  visits  Windsor's  famed  abodes. 
To  grace  the  mansion  of  our  earthly  gods  : 
Nor  oil  his  stars  above  a  lustre  show. 
Like  the  bright  beauties  on  thy  banks  below  ; 
Where  Jove,  subdued  by  mortal  passion  still, 
Might  change  Olympus  for  a  nobler  hill. 


—  TUB   UBRB.KLIST,   ASTRO.SOMER,   SCHOLAR,   SAGB. 

Happy  the  man  whom  this  bright  court  approves. 
His  sovereign  favors,  and  his  country  loves  : 
Happy  next  him,  who  to  these  shades  retires. 
Whom  Nature  charms,  and  whom  the  Muse  inspires  : 
Whom  humble  joys  of  home-felt  quiet  please, 
Successive  study,  exercise,  and  ease. 
Ho  gathers  health  from  herbs  the  forest  yields. 
And  of  their  fragrant  physic  spoils  the  fields  : 
With  chcmic  art  exalts  the  mineral  powers, 
And  draws  the  aromatic  souls  of  flowers  : 
Now  marks  the  course  of  rolling  orbs  on  high, 
O'er  figured  worlds  now  travels  with  bis  eye  ; 
Of  ancient  writ  unlocks  the  learned  store. 
Consults  the  dead,  and  lives  past  ages  o'er  : 
Or  wandering  thoughtful  in  the  silent  wood, 


Attends  the  duties  of  the  wise  and  good. 
To  observe  a  mean,  bo  to  himself  a  friend, 
'  To  follow  nature,  and  regard  his  end  ; 
Or  looks  on  heaven  with  more  than  mortal  < 
Bids  his  free  soul  expatiate  in  the  skies. 
Amid  her  kindred  stars  familiar  roam, 
Survey  the  region,  and  confess  her  homo  ! 
Such  was  the  life  great  Scipio  onco  admired 
Thus  Attieus,  and  Trumbal  thus,  retired. 


Ye  sacred  Nine  !  that  all  my  soul  possess, 
M'hose  raptures  fire  mo,  and  whoso  visions  bless. 
Bear  me,  0  bear  me  to  sequestered  scenes, 
The  bowery  mazes,  and  surrounding  greens  ; 
To  Tbames's  banks  which  fragrant  breezes  fill. 
Or  where  ye.  Muses,  sport  on  Cooper's  Hill. — 
On  Cooper's  Hill  eternal  wreaths  shall  grow, 
While  lasts  the  mountain,  or  while  Thames  shall 
I  seem  through  consecrated  walks  to  rove,   [fiow. — 
I  hear  soft  music  die  along  the  grove  : 
Led  by  the  sound,  I  room  from  shade  to  shade, 
By  godlike  poets  venerable  made  : 
Here  his  first  lays  majestic  Denhom  sung  ; 
There  the  last  numbers  flowed  from  Cowley's  tongue. 
0,  early  lost !  what  tears  the  river  shed 
When  the  sad  pomp  along  his  banks  was  led  ! 
His  drooping  swans  on  every  note  expire. 
And  on  his  willows  hung  each  Muse's  lyre. 

Since  fat«  relentless  stopped  their  heavenly  voice. 
No  more  the  forests  ring,  or  groves  rejoice  ; 
Who  now  shall  charm  the  shades  where  Cowley  strung 
His  living  harp,  ond  lofty  Denham  sung  7 

TRIBCTE  TO  GRASVILLE  AND    SCBRET. 

But,  hark !  the  groves  rejoice,  the  forest  rings  ! 
Are  these  revived  7  or  is  it  Granville  sings  7 
'T  is  yours,  my  lord,  to  bless  our  soft  retreats. 
And  call  the  Muses  to  their  ancient  seats  ; 
To  paint  anew  the  flowery  sylvan  scones, 
To  crown  the  forests  with  immortal  greens. 
Make  Windsor  hills  in  lofty  numbers  rise. 
And  lift  her  turrets  nearer  to  the  skies  ; 
To  sing  those  honors  you  deserve  to  wear, 
And  add  new  lustre  to  her  silver  star. 

Hero  noble  Surrey  felt  the  sacred  rage, 
Surrey  —  the  Granville  of  a  former  age  : 
Matchless  his  pen,  victorious  was  his  lance. 
Bold  in  the  lists,  and  graceful  in  the  donee  ; 
In  the  same  shades  the  Cupids  tuned  his  lyre. 
To  the  same  nutes,  of  love  and  soft  desire  : 
Fair  Geraldino,  bright  object  of  his  vow. 
Then  filled  the  groves  as  heavenly  Mira  now. 

UEROES  OF  Wl.VDSOR  CASTLK  ;  EDWARD  ;  UBSBT  i    CHARLES  I. 
—  AN.NE.  —  PEACE. 

0,  wouldst  thou  sing  what  heroes  Windsor  bore, 
What  kings  first  breathed  upon  her  winding  shore  ; 
Or  raise  old  warriors,  whose  adored  remains 
In  weeping  vaults  her  hallowed  earth  contains  ! 


RURAL    POETRY. - 


With  Edward's  acts  adorn  the  shining  page, 

Stretch  his  long  triumphs  down  through  every  age  : 

Draw  monarchs  chained,  and  Crcssi's  glorious  field, 

Tha  lilies  blazing  on  the  regal  sbield  : 

Then,  from  her  roofs  when  Verrio's  colors  fall, 

And  leave  inanimate  the  naked  wall. 

Still  in  thy  song  should  vanquished  France  appear, 

And  bleed  forever  under  Britain's  spear. 

Let  softer  strains  ill-fated  Henry  mourn, 
And  palms  eternal  flourish  round  his  urn. 
Here  o'er  the  Martyr  King  the  marble  weeps, 
And  fast,  beside  him,  once-feared  Edward  sleeps  : 
Whom  not  the  extended  Albion  could  contain, 
From  old  Belerium  to  the  northern  main. 
The  grave  unites  ;   where  e'en  the  great  find  rest. 
And  blended  lie  the  oppressor  and  the  oppressed  ! 

Make  sacred  Charles's  tomb  forever  known  — 
Obscure  the  place,  and  uninscribed  the  stone  :  — 
0,  fact  accursed  !  what  tears  has  Albion  shed  ! 
Heavens,  what  new  wounds  !  —  and  how  her  old 

have  bled  ! 
She  saw  her  sons  with  purple  deaths  expire, 
Her  sacred  domes  involved  in  rolling  fire, 
A  dreadful  series  of  intestine  wars, 
Inglorious  triumphs,  and  dishonest  scars. 
At  length  great  Anna  said,  '  Let  discord  cease  ! ' 
She  said,  the  world  obeyed,  and  all  was  peace  ! 

THE  GLORIES  OF  QUEEN  ANNE'S  KEIGN.  —  THAMES,  ITS  RIVERS  } 
ISIS,   KENNET,  LODDON,   COLE,  WEY,  VANDALIS,   LEE,   MOLE, 


In  that  blest  moment,  from  his  oozy  bed. 
Old  father  Thames  advanced  his  reverend  head  ; 
His  tresses  dropped  with  dews,  and  o'er  the  stream 
His  shining  horns  diffused  a  golden  gleam  ; 
Graved  on  his  urn  appeared  the  moon,  that  guides 
His  swelling  waters  and  alternate  tides  ; 
The  figured  streams  in  waves  of  silver  rolled, 
And  on  her  banks  Augusta  rose  in  gold  ; 
Around  his  throne  the  sea-born  brothers  stood. 
Who  swelled  with  tributary  urns  his  flood  ! 
First,  the  famed  authors  of  his  ancient  name, 
The  winding  Isis  and  the  fruitful  Thame  : 
The  Kennet  swift,  for  silver  eels  renowned  ; 
The  Loddon  slow,  with  verdant  alders  crowned  ; 
Cole,  whose  dark  streams  his  flowery  islands  lave  ; 
And  chalky  Wey,  that  rolls  a  milky  wave  : 
The  blue,  transparent  Vandalis  appears  ; 
The  gulfy  Lee  his  sedgy  tresses  rears  ; 
And  sullen  Mole  that  hides  his  diving  flood  ; 
And  silent  Darent,  stained  with  Danish  blood. 

High  in  the  midst,  upon  his  urn  reclined  — 
His  sea-green  mantle  waving  with  the  wind  — 
The  god  appeared  :  he  turned  his  azure  eyes 
Where  Windsor  domes  and  pompous  turrets  rise  ! 
Then  bowed,  and  spoke  ;  the  winds  forgot  to  roar. 
And  the  hushed  waves  glide  softly  to  the  shore. 


Hall,  sacred  Peace  !  hail,  long-expected  days. 
That  Thames*s  glory  to  the  stars  shall  raise  ! 


Though  Tiber's  streams  immortal  Rome  behold. 
Though    foaming    Hermus    swells   with    tides   of 

gold, 
From  heaven  itself  though  seven-fold  Nilus  flows. 
And  harvests  on  a  hundred  realms  bestows  ; 
These  now  no  more  shall  be  the  Muses'  themes, 
Lost  in  my  fame,  as  in  the  sea  their  streams. 
Let  Volga's  banks  with  iron  squadrons  shine. 
And  groves  of  lances  glitter  on  the  Rhine  ; 
Let  barbarous  Ganges  arm  a  servile  train  ; 
Be  mine  the  blessings  of  a  peaceful  reign  ! 
No  more  my  sons  shall  dye  with  British  blood 
Red  Iber's  sands,  or  lifter's  foaming  flood  : 
Safe  on  my  shore,  each  unmolested  swain 
Shall  tend  the  flocks,  or  reap  the  bearded  grain  ; 
The  shady  empire  shall  retain  no  trace 
Of  war  or  blood,  but  in  the  sylvan  chase  ; 
The  trumpet  sleep,  while  cheerful  horns  are  blown, 
And  arms  employed  on  birds  and  beasts  alone. 
Behold  !  the  ascending  villas  on  my  side 
Project  long  shadows  o'er  the  crystal  tide. 
Behold  !  Augusta's  glittering  spires  increase. 
And  temples  rise,  the  beauteous  works  of  peace. 
I  see,  I  see,  where  two  fair  cities  bend 
Their  ample  bow,  a  new  Whitehall  ascend  ! 
There  mighty  nations  shall  inquire  their  doom. 
The  world's  great  oracle  in  times  to  come  ; 
There  kings  shall  sue,  and  suppliant  states  be  seen 
Once  more  to  bend  before  a  British  queen. 

WlNDSOR-FOREST   OAKS  J   SHIP-BDILDING  ;   TRIDJIPHS  OF   BRIT- 
ISH  NAVIGATION. 

Thy  trees,  fair  Windsor  !  now  shall  leave  their 

And  half  thy  forests  rush  into  the  floods, 
Bear  Britain's  thunder,  and  her  cross  display, 
To  tlie  bright  regions  of  the  rising  day  : 
Tempt  icy  seas,  where  scarce  the  waters  roll, 
Where  clearer  flames  glow  round  the  frozen  pole  : 
Or  under  southern  skies  exalt  their  sails. 
Led  l)y  new  stars,  and  borne  by  spicy  gales  ! 
For  me  the  balm  shall  bleed,  and  amber  flow  ; 
The  coral  redden,  and  the  ruby  glow. 
The  pearly  shell  its  lucid  globe  infold. 
And  Phoebus  warm  the  ripening  ore  to  gold. 
The  time  shall  come,  when,  free  as  seas  or  wind, 
Unbounded  Thames  shall  flow  for  all  mankind  ; 
Whole  nations  enter  with  each  swelling  tide. 
And  seas  but  join  the  regions  they  divide  ; 
Earth's  distant  ends  our  glory  shall  behold, 
And  the  new  world  launch  forth  to  seek  the  old. 


Then  ships  of  uncouth  form  shall  stem  the  tide. 
And  feathered  people  crowd  my  wealthy  side. 
And  naked  youths  and  painted  chiefs  admire 
Our  speech,  our  color,  and  our  strange  attire  ! 
0  stretch  thy  reign,  fair   Peace  !    from    shore    to 


Till 


,  and  slavery  be  i 


SUMMER  —  AUGUST. 


Till  the  freed  Indiana  in  their  native  groves 
Reap  their  own  fruits,  and  woo  their  sablo  loves  ! 
Pom  once  more  a  race  of  kings  behold, 
And  other  Mexicos  be  roofed  with  gold  ! 
Exiled  by  thee  from  earth  to  deepest  hell, 
In  brazen  bonds  shall  barbarous  Discord  dwell : 
Gigantic  Pride,  pale  Terror,  gloomy  Care, 
And  mad  Ambition,  shall  attend  her  there  : 
There  purple  VcnKoance,  bathed  in  gore,  retires, 
Her  wi-ap^.ii-  Miuit.^l,  uml  extinct  her  fires  : 
Theiv  li;ii'  tul  I  n^  y  Im  r  M\vn  snakcs  shall  fool, 
And  INi-  .  iiii-n  IN   uMi  lirr  broken  wheel  : 
Then-  I'ain.^n  r^ar,  IN  lulliun  bite  her  chain, 
And  gasping  Furies  thirst  for  blood  in  vain. 


Hero    ceoBO    thy   flight,    nor    with    unhallowed 
lays 
Touch  the  fair  fame  of  Albion's  golden  days  : 
The  thoughts  of  gods  let  Granville's  verso  recite, 
And  bring  the  scenes  of  opening  fate  to  light : 
My  humble  muse,  in  unambitious  strains. 
Paints  the  green  forej^ts  and  the  flowery  plains, 
Whore  Peace  descending  bids  her  olives  spring, 
And  scatters  ble.s^lings  from  her  dove-like  wing. 
Even  I  more  sweetly  pass  my  careless  days. 
Pleased  in  the  silent  shade  with  empty  praise  ; 
Enough  for  mo,  that  to  the  listening  swains 
First  in  these  fields  I  sung  the  sylvan  strains. 


ul^iissfr's   "^ III] list's    Ijiisbaniiri) 


*  *  TuRV  fallow*  once  ended,  go  strike  by  and  by 
Both  wheat  hind  and  barley,  and  so  let  it  lie  ; 
And  as  ye  have  leisure,  go  compass  the  same. 
When  up  yo  do  lay  it,  more  fruitful  to  frame. 
Get  down  with  thy  brakes,*  ere  an'  showers  do  come, 
That  cattle  the  better  may  pasture  have  some.  *  * 
Pan  saffron  between  the  two  St.  Mary's  days,3 
Or  sot,  or  go  shift  it,  that  knoweth  the  ways.  *  » 
Maids,  mustard-seed  gather,  fore  being  too  ripe, 
And  weather  it  well,  ere  ye  give  it  a  stripe  : 
Then  dress  it  and  lay  it  in  soUer^  up  sweet, 
Lest  foistincss  make  it  for  table  unmeet. 
Good  huswives  in  summer  will  save  their  own  seeds, 
Against  the  next  year,  as  occasion  needs  : 
One  seed  with  another,  to  make  an  exchange, 
With  fellowly  neighborhood,  seemeth  not  strange. 
Make  suer  of  reapers,  get  harvest  in  hand, 
The  corn  that  is  ripe  doth  but  shed  as  it  stand  : 
Bo  thankful  to  Uod,  for  his  benefits  sent. 
And  willing  to  save  it,  with  earnest  intent.  *  * 
Reap  well,  scatter  not,  gather  clean  that  is  shorn, 
Bind  fast,  shock  apace,  have  an  eye  to  thy  corn  ; 
Load  safe,  carry  home,  follow  time  being  fair, 
Gove' just  in  the  barn,  it  is  out  of  despair. 
Tithe  duly  and  truly,  with  hearty  good  will, 
That  (rod  and   his  blessing  may  dwell  with  thee 

still; 
Though  parson  neglectcth  his  duty  for  this, 
Thank  thou  thy  Lord  God,  and  give  every  man  his.** 


1  After  thry-fahowinB  (third  i 
(strike)  the  land,  to  root  up  weeds,  Befoi 
which  would  nourish  them,  is  applied. 

=  Ferns,  or  brakes,  constitute  a  light  flrinn,  in  Norfolk, 
England  ;  if  cut  early,  the  tender  grass  is  allowed  to  spring 
up  for  adtlitionul  feed.  * 

3  July  22  and  Aug.  15.  *  Seller  is  an  upper  room. 


!  (compas), 


The  mowing  of  barley,  if  barley  do  stand. 
Is  cheapest  and  best,  for  to  rid  out  of  hand  : 
Some  mow  it,  and  rake  it,  and  set  it  on  cocks, 
Some  mow  it,  and  bind  it,  and  set  it  on  shocks.  *  * 
Corn '  being  had  do>vn  (any  way  ye  allow), 
Should  wither  as  needcth,  for  burning  in  mow  ; 
Such  skill  appertaineth  to  harvest  man's  art. 
And  taken  in  time  is  a  husbandly  part.  *  * 
If  weather  bo  fair,  and  tidy  thy  grain. 
Make  speedily  carriage,  for  fear  of  a  rain  ; 
For  tempest  and  showers  deceiveth  a  many, 
And  lingering  lubbers  lose  many  a  penny. 
In  going  at  harvest,  learn  skilfully  how 
Each  grain  for  to  lay  by  itself  on  a  mow  : 
Seed-barley,  the  purest,  govc  out  of  the  way  ; 
All  other  nigh  hand,  gove  as  just  as  ye  may. 
Corn  carried,  let  such  as  be  poor  go  and  glean, 
And,  after,  thy  cattle,  to  mouth  it  up  clean  ; 
Then  spare  it  for  rowen  till  Michel  be  past, — 
To  lengthen  thy  dairy,  no  better  thou  hast. 
In  harvest-time,  harvest-folks,  servants  and  all, 
Should  make,  all  together,  good  cheer  in  the  hall  ; 
And  fill  out  the  black  bowl  of  blythe  to  their  song, 
And  let  them  be  merry  all  harvest-time  long. 
Once  ended  thy  harvest,  let  none  be  beguiled. 
Please  such  as  did  help  thee  —  man,  woman,  and 

child  ; 
Thus  doing,  with  alway  such  help  as  they  can, 
Thou  winncst  the  praise  of  the  laboring  man. 
Now  look  up  to  God-ward,  let  tongue  never  ccaso, 
In  thanking  of  Him  for  his  mighty  increase  : 
Accept  my  good  will  —  for  a  proof  go  and  try  ; 
The  better  thou  thrivest,  the  gladder  am  I.  *  • 


llniiucl^  fcssoits  for   liuiiisf. 


BEATTIE'S  "HERMIT." 

At  the  close  of  the  day,  when  the  hamlet  is  still, 

And  mortals  the  sweets  of  forgetfulness  prove. 
When  naught  but  the  torrent  is  heard  on  the  hill. 

And  naught  but  the  nightingale's  song   in  the 
grove  : 
'T  was  thus  by  the  cave  of  the  mounUin  afar. 

While    his   harp    rung    symphonious,    a   hermit 
began  : 
No  more  with  himself  or  with  nature  at  war. 

He  thought  as  a  sage,  though  ho  felt  as  a  man. 

'  Ah  !  why,  all  abandoned  to  darkness  and  woe, 
Why,  lone  Philomela,  that  languishing  fall  ? 

For  Spring  shall  return,  and  a  lover  bestow. 
And  sorrow  no  longer  thy  bosom  inthrall  : 

But  if  pity  inspire  thee,  renew  the  sad  lay, 

Mourn,  sweetest  eomplainer,  man  calls  thee  to 

0  soothe  him  whose  pleasures  like  thine  pass  away: 
Full  quickly  they  pass  —  but  they  never  return. 

*  Now  gliding  remote  on  the  verge  of  the  sky, 

The  moon  half-extinguished  her  crescent  displays  : 
But  lately  I  marked,  when  majestic  on  high 

She  shone,  and  the  planets  were  lost  in  her  blaze. 
Boll  on,  thou  fair  orb,  and  with  gladness  pursue 

The  path  that  conducts  thee  to  splendor  again  ; 
But  man's  faded  glory  what  change  shall  renew  ? 

Ah,  fool  !  to  exult  in  a  glory  so  vain  ! 

*  'T  is  night,  and  the  landscape  is  lovely  no  more  ; 

I  mourn,  but,  ye  woodlands,  I  mourn  not  for  you ; 
For  morn  is  approaching,  your  charms  to  restore, 

Perfumed  with  fresh  fragrance  and  glittering  with 
Nor  yet  for  the  ravage  of  Winter  I  mourn  ;  [dew  : 

Kind  Nature  the  embryo  blossom  will  save. 
But  when  shall  Spring  visit  the  mouldering  urn  ! 

0,  when  shall  it  dawn  on  the  night  of  the  grave  ! ' 

'Twas  thus,  by  the  glare  of  false  science  betrayed, 
That  leads,  to  bewilder  ;   and  dazzles,  to  blind  ; 

My  thoughts  wont  to  roam,  from  shade  onward  to 
Destruction  before  me,  and  sorrow  behind,  [shade^ 

*  0  pity,  great  Father  of  Light,'  then  I  cried, 

'  Thy  creature,  who  fain  would  not  wander  from 

Lo,  humbled  in  dust  I  relinquish  my  pride  :  [Thee; 

From  doubt  and  from  darkness  Thou  only  canst 

And  darkness  and  doubt  are  now  flying  away  ; 

No  longer  I  roam  in  conjecture  forlorn  : 
So  breaks  on  the  traveller,  faint,  and  astray, 


The  bright  and  the  balmy  effulgence  of  morn. 
See  Truth,  Love,  and  Mercy,  in  triumph  descending. 

And  Nature  all  glowing  in  Eden's  first  bloom  ! 
On  the  cold  cheek  of  death  smiles  and  roses  aro 
blending. 

And  beauty  immortal  awakes  from  the  tomb. 


POPE'I 


'UNIVERSAL  ORDER." 


All  are  but  parts  of  one  stupendous  whole, 
Whose  body  nature  is,  and  God  the  soul  ; 
That  changed  through  all,  and  yet  in  all  the  same, 
Great  in  the  earth,  as  in  the  ethereal  frame  ; 
Warms  in  the  sun,  refreshes  in  the  breeze. 
Glows  in  the  stars,  and  blossoms  in  the  trees  ; 
Lives  through  all  life,  extends  through  all  extent  ; 
Spreads  undivided,  operates  unspent ; 
Breathes  in  our  soul,  informs  our  mortal  part, 
As  full,  as  perfect,  in  an  hair  as  heart  ; 
As  full,  as  perfect,  in  vile  man  that  mourns. 
As  the  rapt  seraph  that  adores  and  burns  : 
To  Him  no  high,  no  low,  no  great,  no  small  ; 
He  fills,  He  bounds,  connects,  and  equals  all. 

Cease,  then,  nor  order  imperfection  name  : 
Our  proper  bliss  depends  on  what  we  blame. 
Know  thy  own  point :  this  kind,  this  due  degree 
Of  blindness,  weakness,  Heaven  bestows  on  thee. 
Submit.  —  In  this,  or  any  other  sphere, 
Secure  to  be  as  blest  as  thou  canst  bear  : 
Safe  in  the  hand  of  one  disposing  Power, 
Or  in  the  natal  or  the  mortal  hour. 
All  nature  is  but  art,  unknown  to  thee  ; 
All  chance,  direction,  which  thou  canst  not  see  ; 
All  discord,  harmony  not  understood  ; 
All  partial  evil,  universal  good  : 
And,  spite  of  pride,  in  erring  reason's  spite. 
One  truth  is  clear  —  whatever  is,  is  right. 


GOD   EVERYWHERE. 
I  READ  God's  awful  name  emblazoned  high 
With  golden  letters  on  the  illumined  sky  ; 
Nor  less  the  mystic  characters  I  see 
Wrought  in  each  flower,  inscribed  on  every  ti 
In  every  leaf  that  trembles  to  the  breeze 
I  hear  the  voice  of  God  among  the  trees. 
With  Thee  in  shady  solitudes  I  walk, 
With  Thee  in  busy,  crowded  cities  talk  ; 
In  every  creature  own  thy  forming  power. 
In  each  event  thy  Providence  adore  !     *     * 


m'\i  ; 


AUTUMN-SEi'TEilEER. 


Zh(   (Tbivii   of  tl)c   .Reasons. 


THOMSON'S   "  AUTUMN." 


The  subject  proposed.  Addressert  t"  Mr.  fln«lf>w.  A  pros- 
pect of  the  Belds  ready  for  harvr,i.  i;..||. nwu-i  in  jiraise 
of  industry  niise<l  hy  that  VI  l    nla- 


barbarity. 

of  an  orchard,     nau-iruii.      i  i>|.i.«m 

of  fogs,  frequent  in  the  latttr  i  .li.iu'ea 

dicression,  inquirinij  into  tlu'  ri--  "f  f  luntiuiK  ;lii,1  rivers. 
Birds  of  season  considered,  that  now  shift  their  haliitation. 
Tlie  prodigious  number  of  them  that  cover  the  northern 
and  western  isles  of  Scotland.  Hence  a  view  of  the  coun- 
try.  A  prospect  of  the  discolored,  fading  woods.  After  a 
gentle,  dusky  day,  moonlight  Autumnal  meteors.  Morn- 
ing ;  to  which  succeeds  a  calm,  pure,  sunshiny  day.  such 
as  usually  shuts  up  the  season.  The  harvest  being  gath- 
ered in,  the  country  dissolved  in  joy.  The  whole  concludes 
with  a  panegyric  on  a  philosophical  country  life. 

Tns  ArrcMS  of  the  tear. 
Crowxed  with  the  sicklo  and  the  whcatcn  sheaf, 
While  Autumn,  nodding  o'er  the  yellow  plain, 
Comes  jovial  on  ;   the  Doric  reed  once  more, 
Well-plcascd,  I  tunc.     Whate'er  the  wintry  frost 
Nitrous  prepared  ;  the  various-blossomed  Spring 
Put  in  white  promise  forth  ;  and  summer-suns 
Conooctcd  strong,  rush  boundless  now  i 
Full,  perfect  all,  and  swell  my  gloriou 


"35" 


theme. 


Onslow  !  the  .Muse,  ambitious  of  thy  name. 
To  grace,  in.«pire,  and  dignify  her  song. 
Would  from  the  public  voice  thy  gentle  ear 
A  while  engage.     Thy  noble  cares  she  knows. 
The  patriot  virtues  that  distend  thy  thought, 
Spread  on  thy  front,  and  in  thy  bosran  glow  ; 
While  listening  senates  bang  upon  thy  tongue. 
Devolving  through  the  ma/o  of  eloquence 
A  roll  of  periods,  sweeter  than  her  song. 
But  she  too  pants  for  public  virtue  ;  she. 
Though  weak  of  power,  yet  strong  in  ardent  will. 
Whene'er  her  country  rushes  on  her  heart. 
Assumes  a  bolder  note,  and  fondly  tries 
To  mix  the  patriot's  with  the  poet's  flame. 


When  the  bright  Virgin  gives  the  beauteous  days. 
And  Libra  weighs  in  equal  scales  the  year  ; 
From  Heaven's  high  cope  the  fierce  effulgence  shook 
Of  parting  Summer,  a  sorener  blue, 
AVith  golden  light  enlivened,  wide  invests 
The  happy  world.     Attempered  suns  arise. 
Sweet-beamed,  and  shedding  oft  through  lucid  clouds 


RURAL    POETRY. THOMSON. 


A  pleasing.calm  ;  while  broad,  and  brown,  below 

Extensive  harvests  hang  the  heavy  head. 

Rich,  silent,  deep,  they  stand  ;  fur  not  a  gale 

Rolls  its  light  billows  o'er  the  bending  plain  : 

A  calm  of  plenty  !  till  the  ruffled  air 

Falls  from  its  poise,  and  gives  the  breeze  to  blow. 

Rent  is  the  fleecy  mantle  of  the  sky  ; 

The  clouds  fly  difierent  ;  and  the  sudden  sun 

By  fits  efi'ulgent  gilds  the  illumined  field, 

And  black  by  fits  the  shadows  sweep  along. 

A  gayly-checkered,  heart-expanding  view, 

Far  as  the  circling  eye  can  shoot  around. 

Unbounded  tossing  in  a  flood  of  corn. 


These  are  thy  blessings,  Industry!  rough  power 
Whom  labor  still  attends,  and  sweat,  and  pain  ; 
Yet  the  kind  source  of  every  gentle  art. 
And  all  the  soft  civility  of  life  : 
Raiser  of  humankind  !  by  nature  cast. 
Naked,  and  helpless,  out  amid  the  woods 
And  wilds,  to  rude  inclement  elements  ; 
With  various  seeds  of  art  deep  in  the  mind 
Implanted,  and  profusely  poured  around  * 

Materials  infinite,  but  idle  all. 


Still  unexerted,  in  the  unconscious  breast. 
Slept  the  lethargic  powers  ;  corruption  still. 
Voracious,  swallowed  what  the  liberal  hand 
Of  bounty  scattered  o'er  the  savage  year  : 
And  still  the  sad  barbarian,  roving,  mixed 
With  beasts  of  prey  ;  or  for  his  acorn-meal 
Fought  the  fierce  tusky  boar  ;  a  shivering  wretch  ! 
Aghast,  and  comfortless,  when  the  bleak  north, 
With  Winter  charged,  let  the  mixed  tempest  fly, 
Hail,  rain,  and  snow,  and  bitter  breathing  frost : 
Then  to  the  shelter  of  the  hut  he  fled  ; 
And  the  wild  seasons,  sordid,  pined  away. 


For  home  he  had  not ;  homo  is  the  resort 
Of  love,  of  joy,  of  peace  and  plenty,  where. 
Supporting  and  supported,  polished  friends. 
And  dear  relations,  mingle  into  bliss. 
But  this  the  rugged  savage  never  felt. 
E'en  desolate  in  crowds  ;  and  thus  his  days 
Rolled  heavy,  dark,  and  unenjnyed  along, 
A  waste  of  time  !  till  Tnau-ti y  iiii|.n.adied, 
And  roused  him  I'l  i>im  hi-  mi-ruMf  slnth  ; 
His  faculties  uiilnl'ir. I  ;   )iniiii<.i  nut, 
Where  lavish  Natnrr  tin-  .litnting  hand 
Of  Art  demanded  ;  showed  him  how  to  raise 
His  feeble  force  by  the  mechanic  powers  ; 
To  dig  the  mineral  from  the  vaulted  earth  ; 
On  what  to  turn  the  piercing  rage  of  fire. 
On  what  the  torrent,  and  the  gathered  blast ; 
Gave  the  tall  ancient  forest  to  his  axe  ; 
Taught  him  to  chip  the  wood,  and  hew  the  stone, 


,  by  degrees  the  finished  fabric  rose  ; 

r  tiMiii  ill-  linil's  the  blood-polluted  fur, 

I  \\i;i|'i  1  III  Ml  111  tlie  woolly  vestment  warm, 

II  i_lit  m  -ill  -y  sil)i,  and  flowing  lawn  ; 

:h  w  UukM>mc  \  iauds  filled  his  table,  poured 
J  generous  glass  around,  inspired  to  wake 
J  life-refining  soul  of  decent  wit : 
1-  stopped  at  liarren,  bare  necessity  ; 
I  lil  :il\  ,11.1  ini^  bolder,  led  him  on 

I  mi',  elegance,  and  grace  ; 
1,  I  I    .!:;,::,_  i/i_'ii  ambition  through  his  soul, 
:.ctt-in;i.-,  \Mi.ii-.ui,  glory,  in  his  view, 
i  bade  him  be  the  Lord  of  all  below. 


Then  gathering  men  their  natural  powers  com- 
And  formed  a  public ;  to  the  general  good     [bined, 
Suttniitting,  aiming,  and  conducting  all. 
I'm  liii-  tiir  I'litiii.t-Oouncil  met,  the  full, 
'I'll!   Ill  I  ,  mill  tiiiily  represented  Whole  ; 
Fill  liiis  iluy  iiiiuiiied  the  holy  guardian  laws, 
Uistinguislied  orders,  animated  arts. 
And,  with  joint  force  Oppression  chaining,  set 
Imperial  Justice  at  the  helm,  yet  still 
To  them  accountable  :  nor  slavish  dreamed 
That  toiling  millions  must  resign  their  weal. 
And  all  the  honey  of  their  search,  to  such 
As  for  themselves  alone  themselves  have  raised. 

Hence  every  form  ul CulilMitLil  Itl'e 
In  order  set,  protectnl.  ninl  in.)iiii'i|. 
Into  perfection  wroii.iilii.     1  nitinL'  nil. 
Society  grew  numerou.-^,  hi-h,  polite. 
And  happy.     Nurse  of  art !  the  city  reared 
In  beauteous  pride  her  tower-encircled  head  ; 
And,  stretching  street  on  street,  by  thousands  drew. 
From  twining  woody  haunts,  or  the  tough  yew 
To  bows  strong-straining,  her  aspiring  sous. 


Then  Commerce  brought  into  the  public  walk 
The  busy  merchant  ;  the  big  warehouse  built ; 
Raised  the  strong  crane ;  choked  up  the  loaded  street 
With  foreign  plenty  ;  and  thy  stream,  0  Thames, 
Large,  gentle,  deep,  majestic,  king  of  floods  ! 
Chose  for  his  grand  resort.     On  either  hand. 
Like  a  long  wintry  forest,  groves  of  masts 
Shot  up  their  spires  ;  the  bellying  sheet  between 
Possessed  the  breezy  void  ;  the  sooty  hulk 
Steered  sluggish  on  ;   the  splendid  barge  along 
Rowed,  regular,  to  harmony  ;  around. 
The  boat,  light-skimming,  stretched  its  oary  wings; 
While  deep  the  various  voice  of  fervent  toil     [oak. 
From  bank  to  bank  increased  ;  whence  ribbed  with 
To  bear  the  British  thunder,  black,  and  bold. 
The  roaring  vessel  rushed  into  the  main. 

LrXl-BT  ;   THE   FISE  AETS. 

Then  too  the  pillared  dome,  magnific,  heaved 
Its  ample  roof  ;  and  Luxury  within 
Poured  out  her  glittering  stores  :  the  canvas  smooth, 


AUTUMN  —  SEPTEMBER. 


With  glowing  life  protuliorant,  to  tho  view 
Embodied  rose  ;  tlio  sUituc  seemed  to  breathe, 
And  soften  into  flesh,  beneath  the  touch 
Of  forming  art,  imagination-flushed. 


All  is  tho  gift  of  industry  j  whate'cr 
Exalts,  embellishes,  and  renders  life 
Delightful.     Pensive  Winter,  cheered  by  him. 
Sits  at  tho  soeiul  fire,  and  happy  hears 
Tho  excluded  tempest  idly  rave  along  ; 
His  hardened  fingers  deck  the  gaudy  Spring  ; 


Nor  to  the  autumnal  months  could  thus  transmit 
Those  full,  mature,  immeasurable  stores, 
That,  waving  round,  recall  my  wandering  song. 

THE  REAPERS,  TOITIIS  iSD   MAIDESS  i  TIK  HARVEST. 

Soon  as  the  morning  trembles  o'er  the  sl«y. 
And,  unperccived,  unfolds  the  spreading  day  ; 
Before  the  ripened  field  the  reapers  stand. 
In  fair  array,  each  by  the  lass  he  loves. 
To  bear  the  rougher  part,  and  mitigate 
By  nameless  gentle  ofliccs  her  toil. 
At  once  they  stoop,  and  swell  tho  lusty  sheaves  ; 
While  through  their  cheerful  band  the  rural  tallt, 
Tho  rural  scandal,  and  tho  rural  jest. 
Fly  harmless,  to  deceive  the  tedious  time. 
And  steal  unfelt  the  sultry  hours  away. 
Behind  the  master  walks,  builds  up  the  shocks  ; 
And,  conscious,  glancing  oft  on  every  side 
His  sated  eye,  feels  his  heart  heave  with  joy. 


TUB  CLEASEBS.  — CUABITV  TO  THE  T 

The  gleaners  spread  around,  and  here  and  there. 
Spike  after  spike,  their  scanty  harvest  pick. 
Be  not  too  narrow,  husbandmen  !  but  fling 
From  tho  full  sheaf,  with  charitable  stealth. 
The  liberal  handful.     Think,  0  grateful  think  ! 
How  good  tho  God  of  Harvest  is  to  you  ; 
Who  pours  abundance  o'er  your  flowing  fields  ; 
While  these  unhappy  partners  of  your  kind 
Wide-hover  round  you,  like  the  fowls  of  heaven. 
And  ask  their  humble  dole.     Tho  various  turns 
Of  fortune  ponder  ;  that  your  sons  may  want 
What  now,  with  hard  reluctance,  faint,  yo  give. 

STORY  OP  PALEMOS  AKD  lAVlKIA.-HER  PARE.STAOE  AXD 
CUILDHOOD. 

The  lovely  young  Lavinia  once  had  friends  ; 
And  fortune  smiled,  deceitful,  on  her  birth. 
For,  in  her  helpless  years  deprived  of  all, 
Of  every  stay,  save  Innocence  and  Heaven, 
She  with  her  widowed  mother,  feeble,  old, 
And  poor,  lived  in  a  cottage,  far  retired 
Among  tho  windings  of  a  woody  vale  ; 
By  solitude  and  deep  surrounding  shades. 
But  more  by  bashful  modesty,  concealed. 
Together  thus  they  shunned  the  ornel  scorn 
Which  virtue,  sunk  to  poverty,  would  meet 
From  giddy  passion  and  low-minded  pride  ; 


Almost  on  nature's 

Like  the  gay  birds  that  sung  them  to  repose. 

Content,  and  careless  of  to-morrow's  fare. 

UKR  BEAITY  ctsCBlBED.  —  lOVELlSESS   ISAnoRSED. 

Her  form  was  fresher  than  the  morning  rose, 
When  the  dew  wets  its  leaves  ;  unstained  and  i>ure 
As  is  tlie  lily,  or  the  mountain  snow. 
The  modest  Virtues  mingled  in  her  eyes. 
Still  on  the  ground  dejected,  darting  all 
Their  humid  beams  into  the  blooming  flowers  : 
Or  when  the  mournful  tale  her  mother  told. 
Of  what  her  faithless  fortune  promised  once. 
Thrilled  in  her  thouglit,  they,  like  the  dewy  star 
Of  evening,  shone  in  tears.     A  native  grace 
Sat  fair-proportioned  on  her  polished  limbs. 
Veiled  in  a  simple  robe,  their  best  attire. 
Beyond  the  pomp  of  dress  ;  for  loveliness 
Needs  not  tho  foreign  aid  of  ornament. 
But  is,  when  unadorned,  adorned  the  most. 
Thoughtless  of  beauty,  she  was  Beauty's  self, 
Recluse  amid  the  close-embowering  woods. 

LAVISIA  r.LEASS    IS    THE    FIBLDS    OF   PAI.EMOS.-  PALEMOS 
DESCRIBED.  —  ARCADIAN  LIFE. 

As  in  tho  hollow  breast  of  Apenninc, 
Beneath  the  shelter  of  encircling  hills, 
A  myrtle  rises,  far  from  human  eye. 
And  breathes  its  balmy  fragrance  o'er  the  wild  ; 
So  flourished  blooming,  and  unseen  by  all, 
The  sweet  Lavinia  ;  till,  at  length,  compelled 
By  strong  Necessity's  supreme  command. 
With  smiling  paticnoo  in  litr  lonl;?.  she  went 
To  glean  Palem..n'-  li'  1  i-      T^      i  I'l  !•   ..f  swains 
Palemon  was,  tin-  'j'  i  ,  i       1 1'  It  ; 

Who  led  tho  runil  lii      i. 
And  elejr!!!!."'.  «ih'Ii  .i      \|'  m'Ii.ui  -  'H^' 

Transmii-  ii^  "■'•<  m.-'iruptcd  times  ; 

When  tviMiit  ■  n  i  m  li  li  n't  shackled  man. 
But  frcu  I"  111'"  iiii'uM   w;.s  the  mode. 
He  then,  his  I'miey  with  autumnal  scenes 
Amusing,  chanced  beside  his  reaper-train 
To  walk,  when  poor  Lavinia  drew  his  eye  ; 
Unconscious  of  her  power,  and  turning  quick 
With  unaffected  blushes  from  his  ga7.e  : 
Ho  saw  her  charming,  but  he  saw  not  half 
The  charms  her  downcast  modesty  concealed. 


SOLILOQCT  OF  PALEMOS.  —  ACASTO. 


That  very 
Sprung  in 


love  and  chaste  desir 
lis  bosom,  to  himself  unknown  ; 


For  still  the  world  prevailed  and  its  dread  laugl 
Which  scarce  the  firm  philosopher  can  scorn,— 
Should  his  heart  own  a  gleaner  in  the  field  ; 
And  thus  in  secret  to  his  soul  ho  sighed  : 

'  What  pity  !  that  so  delicate  a  form, 
By  beauty  kindled,  where  enlivening  sense 
And  more  than  vulgar  goodness  seem  to  dwell. 
Should  be  devoted  to  the  rude  embrace 
Of  some  indecent  clown  !  she  looks,  methinks. 
Of  old  Acasto's  line  ;  and  to  my  mind 


RURAL    POETRY. - 


Recalls  that  patron  of  my  happy  life, 
From  whom  my  liberal  fortune  took  its  rise  ; 
Now  to  the  dust  gone  down  ;  his  houses,  lands, 
And  once  fair-spreading  family,  dissolved. 
'T  is  said  that  in  some  lone,  obscure  retreat, 
Urged  by  remembrance  sad,  and  decent  pride. 
Far  from  those  scenes  which  knew  their  better  days. 
His  aged  widow  and  his  daughter  live, 
Whom  yet  my  fruitless  search  could  never  find. 
Romantic  wish  !  would  this  the  daughter  were  ! ' 


When,  strict  inquiring,  from  herself  he  found 
She  was  the  same,  the  daughter  of  his  friend, 
Of  bountiful  Acasto  —  who  can  speak 
The  mingled  passions  that  surprised  his  heart, 
And  through  his  nerves  in  shivering  transport  ran  ? 
Then  blazed  his  smothered  flame,  avowed,  and  bold  ; 
And  as  he  viewed  her,  ardent,  o'er  and  o'er, 
Love,  gratitude,  and  pity,  wept  at  once. 
Confused,  and  frightened  at  his  sudden  tears, 
Her  rising  beauties  flushed  a  higher  bloom, 
As  thus  Palemon,  passionate  and  just, 
Poured  out  the  pious  rapture  of  his  soul  : 

PALEMOS'S    WOOING. 

'And  art  thou,  then,  Acasto's  dear  remains? 
She  whom  my  restless   gratitude  has  sought 
So  long  in  vain  ?     0  heavens  !  the  very  same, 
The  softened  image  of  my  noble  friend  ; 
Alive  his  every  look,  his  every  feature. 
More  elegantly  touched.     Sweeter  than  Spring  ! 
Thou  sole  surviving  blossom  from  the  root 
That  nourished  up  my  fortune  !     Say,  ah  where. 
In  what  sequestered  desert  hast  thou  drawn 
The  kindest  aspect  of  delighted  Heaven  ? 
Into  such  beauty  spread,  and  blown  so  fair  ; 
Though  poverty's  cold  wind,  and  crushing  rain. 
Beat  keen  and  heavy  on  thy  tender  years  ? 
0  let  me  now  into  a  richer  soil 
Transplant  thee  safe!  where  vernal  suns  and  showers 
Dilfuse  their  warmest,  largest  influence  ; 
And  of  my  garden  be  the  pride  and  joy  ! 
Ill  it  befits  thee,  0,  it  ill  befits 
Acasto's  daughter,  his,  whose  open  stores. 
Though  vast,  were  little  to  his  ampler  heart. 
The  father  of  a  country  —  thus  to  pick 
The  very  refuse  of  those  harvest-fields 
Which  from  his  bounteous  friendship  I  enjoy. 
Then  throw  that  shameful  pittance  from  thy  hand, 
But  ill  applied  to  such  a  rugged  task  ; 
The  fields,  the  master,  all,  my  fair,  are  thine  : 
If  to  the  various  blessings  which  thy  house 
Has  on  me  lavished  thou  wilt  add  that  bliss. 
That  dearest  bliss,  the  power  of  blessing  thee  ! ' 

LAVINIA  WON  i    DOMESTIC    HJPPISESS. 

Here  ceased  the  youth  :  yet  still  his  speaking  eye 
E.xpressed  the  sacred  triumph  of  his  soul, 
With  conscious  virtue,  gratitude,  and  love, 
Above  the  vulgar  joy  divinely  raised. 


Nor  waited  he  reply.     Won  by  the  charm 
Of  goodness  irresistible,  and  all 
In  sweet  disorder  lost,  she  blushed  consent. 
The  news  immediate'to  her  mother  brought, 
While,  pierced  with  anxious  thought,  she  pined  away 
The  lonely  moments  for  Lavinia's  fate  ; 
Amazed,  and  scarce  believing  what  she  heard, 
.T<iv  ^<i/''il  her  withoreil  veins,  and  one  bright  gleam 


A  numerous  ollspring,  lovely  like  themselves. 
And  good,  the  grace  of  all  the  country  roimd. 


Defeating  oft  the  labors  of  the  year, 
The  sultry  south  collects  a  potent  blast. 
At  first  the  groves  are  scarcely  seen  to  stir 
Their  treinbliivj-  tnp^-,  :in<l  ;i  '•-till  murmur  runs 
Along  the  -"li     i.l.    i'      i  ■  I  i-  nf  corn. 
But  as  the  ^1.  1 1  ;    I.  ,1    .    I    .  llrr  Mvells, 
And  in  one  uiij.ii   ^u.^r.n    .misible. 
Immense,  the  whole  oxeited  atmosphere 
Impetuous  rushes  o'er  the  souuding  world  ; 
Strained  to  the  root,  the  stooping  forest  pours 
A  rustling  shower  of  yet  untimely  leaves. 
High-heat,  the  circling  mountains  eddy  in 
From  the  bare  wild  the  dissipated  storm, 
And  send  it  in  a  torrent  down  the  vale. 
Exposed,  and  naked,  to  its  utmost  rage, 
Througli  all  the  sea  of  harvest  rolling  round, 
The  billowy  plain  floats  wide,  nor  can  evade, 
Though  pliant  to  the  blast,  its  seizing  force  ; 
Or  whirled  in  air,  or  into  vacant  chatF 
Shook  waste. 

THE  SUMMER    TEMPEST DELUGE    OF    BAIN.  —  INUNDATION. 

—  DAMAGE. 

And  sometimes  too  a  burst  of  rain, 
Swept  from  the  black  horizon,  broad,  descends 
In  one  continuous  flood.     Still  over  head 
The  mingling  tempest  waves  its  gloom,  and  still 
The  deluge  deepens,  till  the  fields  around 
Lie  sunk,  and  flatted,  in  the  sordid  wave. 
Sudden  the  ditches  swell,  the  meadows  swim  ; 
Red,  from  the  hills,  innumerable  streams 
Tumultuous  roar,  and  high  above  its  banks 
The  river  lift,  before  whose  rushing  tide 
Herds,  flocks,  and  harvests,  cottages,  and  swains. 
Roll  mingled  down  ;  all  that  the  winds  had  spared 
In  one  wild  moment  ruined  ;  the  big  hopes 
And  well-earned  treasures  of  the  painful  year. 


THE  DISAPPOINTED   FABMER  AND  ms  LANDLORD. 

Fled  to  some  eminence,  the  husbandman 
Helpless  beholds  the  miserable  wreck 
Driving  along  ;  his  drowning  ox  at  once 
Dcseciidiii),',  witli  his  labors  scattered  round, 
Hi' Ml     ;    ;iimI  iii-liiut  o'er  his  shivering  thought 

t' ^ I'l  Mvided,  and  a  train 

(II  '  ln.,;ii,i  .  Iiiiii.ii  dear.     Ye  masters,  then. 
Be  iiuiidtul  ot  the  rough  laborious  hand 


■  SEPTEMBER. 


301 


That  sinks  you  soft  in  ologanco  and  cose  ; 

Bo  mindful  of  those  limbs,  in  rusiot  oliid, 

AVlioso  toil  to  yours  is  warmth  and  graceful  pride, 

And,  0  !  bo  mindful  of  that  sparing  board 

"Which  covers  yours  with  luxury  profuse, 

Makes  your  glass  sparkle,  and  your  sense  rcjoioo  ! 

Nor  cruelly  demand  what  the  deep  rains 

And  all-involving  winds  have  swept  away. 

THE  SPORTSMAN  ;  SPANIEL  J  COVET. 

Hero  t^o  rude  clamor  of  the  sportsman's  joy. 
The  gun  fast-thundering,  and  the  winded  horn, 
Would  tempt  the  Muse  to  sing  the  ruml  game  : 
How  in  his  mid-careur  the  spaniel  struck. 
Stiff,  by  the  tainted  gnio,  with  open  nose, 
OuUtretchcd  and  finely  «pn»iMr.  ilniws  full, 
Fearful  and  caiili"ii-.  "n  ili-  lit.  at  prey  ; 
As  in  the  sun  thr  .n  .  nn,-  .  -i  .  ;,    liask 
Their  varied  pluiii>  -.  aril  \\:ii  ■hiul,  every  way 
Through  the  rough  stubbk-  turn  the  secret  eye. 
Caught  in  the  meshy  snare,  in  vain  they  beat 
Their  idle  wings,  entangled  more  and  more  : 
Nor  on  the  surges  of  the  boundless  air, 
Though  borne  triumphant,  are  they  safe  ;  the  gun. 
Glanced  just,  ond  sudden,  from  the  fowler's  eye, 
O'ertakes  their  sounding  pinions  ;  and  again, 
Immediate,  brings  them  from  the  towering  wing, 
Dead  to  the  ground  ;  or  drives  them  widc-disporsed, 
AVoundcd,  and  wheeling  various,  down  the  wind. 


POETBr  BEBCKES,  NOT 


AND  THE  CHASE. 


These  are  not  subjects  for  the  peaceful  Muse, 
Nor  will  she  stain  with  such  her  spotless  song  ; 
Then  most  delighted,  when  she  social  sees 
The  whole  mi.^ed  animal  creation  round 
Alive  and  happy.     'T  is  not  joy  to  her, 
This  falsely-cheerful,  barbarous  game  of  death, 
This  rage  of  pleasure,  which  the  restle.«s  youth 
Awakes,  impatient,  with  the  gleaming  morn  : 
AVhcn  beasts  of  prey  retire,  that  all  night  long, 
Urged  by  necessity,  had  ranged  the  dark. 
As  if  their  conscious  mvnire  shunned  the  light, 
Ashamed.     Not  •■'  M,.     til,   t;,i,iiit  man, 

Who,  with  the  til.  r  ,.f  power 

Inflamed,  beyniil  t '  '        'iiitr  wrath 

Of  the  worst  mi  111 -I   I  tuit  i  -i  i    hihmI  the  waste. 
For  sport  alone  pursues  the  cruel  chase, 
Amid  the  beamings  of  the  gentle  days. 
Upbraid,  ye  ravening  tribes,  our  wanton  rage, 
For  hunger  kindles  you,  and  lawless  want  ; 
But  lavish  fed,  in  Nature's  bounty  rolled, 
To  joy  at  anguish,  and  delight  in  blood, 
Is  what  your  horrid  bosoms  never  knew. 


Poor  is  the  triumph  o'er  the  timid  hare  ! 
Scared  from  the  corn,  and  now  to  some  lone  seat 
Retired  :  the  rushy  fen  j  the  ragged  furie, 


Strctohcd  o'er  the  sto^y  heath  j  the  stubble  chapt ; 
Tho  thistly  lawn  ;  the  thick-entangled  broom  ; 
Of  tho  same  friendly  hue,  the  withered  fern  ; 
The  fallow  ground  laid  open  to  the  sun, 
Concoctive  ;  and  the  nodding,  sandy  bank. 
Hung  o'er  tho  mazes  of  tho  mountain  brook. 
Vain  is  her  best  precaution  ;  though  she  sits 
Concealed,  with  folded  ears  ;  unsleeping  eyes, 
By  Nature  raised  to  take  the  horizon  in  ; 
And  head  couched  close  between  her  hairy  feet. 
In  act  to  spring  away.     Tho  scented  dew 
Betrays  her  early  labyrinth  ;  and  deep, 
In  scattered,  sullen  openings,  far  behind. 
With  every  breeze  she  hears  the  coming  storm. 
But  nearer,  and  more  frequent,  as  it  loads 
The  sighing  gale,  she  springs  amazed,  and  all 
The  savage  soul  of  game  is  up  at  once  : 
The  pack  full-opening,  various  ;   the  shrill  horn 
Resounded  from  the  hills  ;  the  neighing  steed, 
Wild  for  the  chase  ;  and  the  loud  hunters'  shout ; 
O'er  a  weak,  harmless,  flying  creature,  all 
Mixed  in  mad  tumult,  and  discordant  joy. 


The  stag  too,  singled  from  tho  herd,  whore  long 

1  He  ranged  the  branching  monarch  of  the  shades, 

!  Before  the  tempest  drives.     At  first  in  speed 
He,  sprightly,  puts  his  faith  ;  and,  roused  by  fear, 
Gives  all  his  swift,  a.-ii„l  .soul  to  flight ; 
Against  tin-  l.rnvi.  hi-  ilait-.  iliat  way  the  more 

,  To  leave  till'  h    -i  ijui_.  I.  rous  cry  behind  : 

Deception  .~li.-ii  '  ili.iii;;li  lUiter  than  the  winds 

I  Blown  o'er  the  keen-aired  mountjiiu  by  the  north. 
He  bursts  the  thickets,  glances  through  the  glades, 

j  And  plunges  deep  into  the  wildest  wood  ; 
If  slow,  yet  sure,  adhesive  to  the  track 
Hot-steaming,  up  behind  him  come  again 

I  The  inhuman  rout,  and  from  tho  shatly  depth 
Expel  him,  circling  through  his  every  shift. 

'  He  sweeps  tho  forest  oft  ',  and  sobbing  sees 
The  glades,  mild  opening  to  the  golden  day  ; 
Where,  in  kind  contest,  with  his  butting  friends 
He  wont  to  struggle,  or  his  loves  enjoy. 
Oft  in  the  full  descending  flood  he  tries 
To  lose  tho  scent,  and  lave  his  burning  sides  : 
Oft  seeks  the  herd  ;  tho  watchful  herd,  nlurmod, 
With  selfish  care  avoid  a  brother's  woe. 
What  shall  ho  do?     Hi.?  once  so  vivid  nerves, 
So  full  of  buoyant  spirit,  now  no  more 
Inspire  the  course  ;  but  fainting,  breathless  toil, 
Sick,  seizes  on  his  heart  :  he  stands  at  bay, 
.And  puts  his  last  weak  refuge  in  despair. 
The  big  round  tears  run  down  his  dappled  face  ; 
Ho  groans  in  anguish  ;  while  the  growling  pack, 
Blood-happy,  hang  at  his  fair  jutting  chest, 
And  mark  his  beauteous  checkered  sides  with  gore. 


Of  this  enough.     But  if  the  sylvan  youth, 
Whose  fervent  blood  boils  into  violence. 


RURAL   POETRY. THOMSON. 


Must  have  the  chase  ;  behold,  despising  flight, 
The  roused-up  lion,  resolute,  and  slow, 
Advancing  full  on  the  protended  spear, 
And  coward  band,  that  circling  wheel  aloof. 
Slunk  from  the  cavern,  and  the  troubled  wood, 
See  the  grim  wolf ;  on  him  his  shaggy  foe 
Vindictive  fix,  and  let  the  ruflSan  die  : 
Or,  growling  horrid,  as  the  brindled  boar 
Grins  fell  destruction,  to  the  monster's  heart 
Let  the  dart  lighten  from  the  nervous  arm. 

These  Britain  knows  not  ;  give,  ye  Britons,  then. 
Your  sportive  fury,  pitiless,  to  pour 
Loose  on  the  nightly  robber  of  the  fold  ; 
Him,  from  his  craggy,  winding  haunts  unearthed. 
Let  all  the  thunder  of  the  chase  pursue. 
Throw  the  broad  ditch  behind  you  ;  o'er  the  hedge 
High  bound,  resistless  ;  nor  the  deep  morass 
Refuse,  but  through  the  shaking  wilderness 
Pick  your  nice  way  ;  into  the  perilous  flood 
Bear  fearless,  of  the  raging  instinct  full ; 
And,  as  you  ride  the  torrent,  to  the  banks 
Your  teiumph  sound  sonorous,  running  round, 
From  rock  to  rock,  in  circling  echoes  tossed  ; 
Then  scale  the  mountains  to  their  woody  tops  ; 
Rush  down  the  dangerous  steep  ;  and  o'er  the  lawn. 
In  fancy  swallowing  up  the  space  between. 
Pour  all  your  speed  into  the  rapid  game. 
For  happy  he  !  who  tops  the  wheeling  chase  ; 
Has  every  maze  evolved,  and  every  guile 
Disclosed  ;  who  knows  the  merits  of  the  pack  ; 
Who  saw  the  villain  seized,  and  dying  hard, 
Without  complai]it,  tliiii^'li  l.y  :i  liiindred  mouths 
Relentless  torn .     1 1  u  i , , , , , , , , .  | ,  r ,  1 1.  ■  yond 
His  daring  peers  '   w  h.  n  i  h.    r.  i  rruting  horn 
Calls  them  to  ghoiUy  hull.,  ,.f  giay  renown. 
With  woodland  honors  graced  ;   the  fox's  fur 
Depending  decent  from  the  roof  :  and  spread 
Round  the  drear  walls,  with  antic  figures  fierce. 
The  stag's  large  front  :  he  then  is  loudest  heard, 
When  the  night  staggers  with  severer  toils, 
With  feats  Thessalian  centaurs  never  knew  ; 
And  their  repeated  wonders  shako  the  dome. 


But  first  the  fuelled  chimney  blazes  wide  ; 
The  tankards  foam  ;   and  tlir  >tnai^  t:tiilr  groans 

Beneath  the  smoking  sirl-iin,  -ti-.!<|i,-,(  i n-nse 

From  side  to  side,  in  wliirh,  wiil,  i|.-p,i,iir  knife. 
They  deep  incision  make,  ;iua  talk  thL>  while 
Of  England's  glory,  ne'er  to  be  defaced. 
While  hence  they  borrow  vigor  :  or  amain 
Into  tho  pasty  plunged,  at  intcnals. 
If  stomach  keen  i-au  intm^il.  allow, 
Relating  all  the  ^^-Inn,..  ,,r  ih,.  d, ;,..-. 
Then  sated  Hun-ri- l.i.l-  In-  l.i  ..tlin- Thirst 
Produce  the  nii-htv  1-ul  ;   ihu  nii-hty  bowl, 
Swelli-il  liiL'li  uilli  111  i\  juice,  steams  liberal  round 
Apotnii  L-:il"  ■.  'I.  la-hills  as  the  breath 
Of  JMaia  iM  liir  Inv.-ak  shepherdess, 


On  violets  diffused,  while  soft  she  hears 
Her  panting  shepherd  stealing  to  her  arms. 
Nor  wanting  is  the  brown  October,  drawn. 
Mature  and  perfect,*  from  his  dark  retreat 
Of  thirty  years  ;  and  now  his  honest  front 
Flames  in  the  light  refulgent,  not  afraid 
E'en  with  the  vineyard's  best  produce  to  vie. 
To  cheat  the  thirsty  moments,  AVhist  a  while 
Wiilk''  bi=  dull  ri^innd  beneath  a  cloud  of  smoke, 
\\'?i  alia,],  IVaL'rant,  from  the  pipe  ;  or  the  quick 
111  ihuiiilii-  1 1  a  1 . 1 1 1  l:  1  rom  the  box,  awake  [dice, 

Tiif  Miuialinix  i^aiiiiiion  ;  while  romp-loving  miss 
Is  hauled  about,  in  gallantry  robust. 


At  last,  these  puling  idlenesses  laid 
Aside,  frequent  and  full,  the  dry  divan 
Close  in  firm  circle  ;  and  set,  ardent,  in 
For  serious  drinking.     Nor  evasion  sly. 
Nor  sober  shift,  is  tn  tip-  |iiil> Iml^  ^^  '  i  Ii 

Indulged  apart  ;  bin  i  n  i- bowls 

Lave  every  soul,  the  lai  !'    i'    .    mi    aial, 

And  pavement,  faitiil'-    i-  ih.    inall.-l  loot. 

Thus  as  they  swim  in  mutual  swill,  the  talk, 

Vociferous  at  once  from  twenty  tongues,     [hounds, 

Reels   fust  from   theme   to   theme  ;    from  horses, 

To  church  or  mistress,  politics  or  ghost, 

In  endless  mazes,  intricate,  perplexed. 

Meantime,  with  sudden  interruption,  loud, 

The  impatient  catch  bursts  from  the  joyous  heart ; 

That  moment  touched  is  every  kindred  soul  ; 

And,  opening  in  a  full-mouthed  cry  of  joy. 

The  laugh,  the  slap,  the  jocund  curse,  go  round  ; 

While,  from  their  slumbers  shook,  the  kennelled 

Mix  in  the  music  of  the  day  again.  [hounds 

As  when  the  tempest,  that  has  vexed  the  deep 

The  dark  night  long,  with  fainter  murmurs  falls. 

So  gradual  sinks  their  mirth.  Their  feeble  tongues. 

Unable  to  take  up  the  cumbrous  word. 

Lie  quite  dissolved.     Before  their  maudlin  eyes, 

Seen  dim  and  blue,  the  double  tapers  dance. 

Like  the  sun  wading  through  the  misty  sky. 

Then,  sliding  soft,  they  drop.     Confused  above. 

Glasses  and  bottles,  pipes  and  gazetteers. 

As  if  the  table  e'en  itself  was  drunk. 

Lie  a  wet,  broken  scene  ;  and  wide,  below. 

Is  heaped  the  social  slaughter  :  where  astride 

The  lubber-power  in  filthy  triumph  sits, 

Slumbrous,  inclining  still  from  side  to  side. 

And  steeps  them  drenched  in  potent  sleep  till  morn. 

Perhaps  some  doctor,  of  tremendous  paunch. 

Awful  and  deep,  a  black  abyss  of  drink. 

Outlives  them  all  ;  and  from  his  buried  flock 

Retiring,  full  of  rumination  sad. 

Laments  the  weakness  of  these  latter  times. 


But  if  the  rougher  sex  by  this  fierce  sport 
i  hurried  wild,  let  not  such  horrid  joy 


AUTUMN  —  SEPTEMBER. 


E'er  stain  tho  bosom  of  the  British  fair. 

F»r  bo  tho  spirit  of  tho  chase  from  them  I 

Uncomely  courage,  unbeseeming  skill  ; 

To  spring  tho  fence,  to  rein  the  prancing  steed  ; 

Tho  cap,  the  whip,  the  masculine  attire. 

In  which  thoy  roughen  to  the  sense,  and  all 

The  winning  softness  of  their  sex  is  lost. 

In  thcni  'tis  graceful  to  dissolve  at  woe  ; 

With  every  motion,  every  word,  to  wave 

Quick  o'er  tho  kindling  cheek  the  ready  blush  ; 

And  from  tho  smallest  violence  to  shrink 

Unequal,  then  the  loveliest  in  their  fears  ; 

And  by  this  silent  adulation,  soft. 

To  their  protection  more  engaging  man. 

0  may  their  eyes  no  miserable  sight, 

Save  weeping  lovers,  see  !  a  nobler  game. 

Through  love's  enchanting  wiles  pursued,  yet  fled. 

In  chase  ambiguous.     May  their  tender  limbs 

Float  in  the  loose  simplicity  of  dress  ! 

And,  fashioned  all  to  harmony,  alone 

Know  they  to  seize  the  captivated  soul, 

In  rapture  warbled  from  love-breathing  lips  ; 

To  teach  the  lute  to  languish  ;  with  smooth  step, 

Disclosing  motion  in  its  every  charm. 

To  swim  along,  and  swell  the  mazy  dance  ; 

To  train  the  foliage  o'er  the  snowy  lawn  ; 

To  guide  the  pencil,  turn  the  tuneful  page, 

To  lend  new  flavor  to  the  fruitful  year, 

And  heighten  Nature's  dainties  ;  in  their  race 

To  rear  their  graces  into  second  lifo  ; 

To  give  society  its  highest  taste  ; 

Well-ordered  home  man's  best  delight  to  make  ; 

And  by  submissive  wisdom,  modest  skill, 

AVith  every  gentle,  care-eluding  art. 

To  raise  the  virtues,  animate  the  bliss, 

And  sweeten  all  the  toils  of  human  life  :  — 

This  be  the  female  dignity  and  praise. 

GATHRRINO  OF   nAZEL-XTTS.  —  MELIN'DA. 

Yo  swains,  now  hasten  to  tho  hazel  bank, 
Where  down  yon  dale  the  wildly-winding  brook 
Falls  hoarse  from  steep  to  steep.     In  close  array, 
Fit  for  the  thickets  and  tho  tangling  shrub, 
Ye  virgins,  come.     For  you  their  latest  song 
The  woodlands  raise  ;  the  clustering  nuts  for  you 
The  lover  finds  amid  the  secret  shade  ; 
And,  where  they  burnish  on  the  topmost  bough, 
With  active  vigor  crushes  down  the  tree  ; 
Or  shakes  them  ripe  from  the  resigfting  husk, 
A  glossy  shower,  and  of  an  ardent  brown. 
As  are  the  ringlets  of  Melinda's  hair  : 
Melinda  !  formed  with  every  grace  complete  ; 
Yet  these  neglecting,  above  beauty  wise, 
And  far  transcending  such  a  vulgar  praise. 

THE    OaCHABD.  — OATHBRIXO  OF  mnr.  —  PBARS;    APPLES; 

cider;  philips. 
Hence  from  the  busy,  joy-resounding  fields. 
In  cheerful  error,  let  us  tread  the  maze 
Of  Autumn,  unconfincd  ;  and  ^te,  revived. 
The  breath  of  orchard  big  with  bending  fruit ; 


Obedient  to  tho  breeio  and  beating  ray, 

From  the  deep-loaded  bough  a  mellow  shower 

Incessant  melts  away.     Tho  juicy  pear 

Lies  in  a  soft  profusion  scattered  round. 

A  various  sweetness  swells  the  gentle  race. 

By  Nature's  all-refining  hand  prepared  ; 

Of  tempered  sun,  and  water,  earth,  and  air, 

In  over-changing  composition  mixed. 

Such,  falling  frequent  through  the  chiller  night, 

The  fragrant  stores,  tho  wide-projected  heaps 

Of  apples,  which  the  lusty-handed  year, 

Innumcrous,  o'er  the  blushing  Orchard  shakes. 

A  various  spirit,  fresh,  delicious,  keen. 

Dwells  in  their  gelid  pores  ;  and,  active,  points 

Tho  piercing  cider  for  the  thirsty  tongue  : 

Thy  native  theme,  and  boon  inspircr  too. 

Philips,  Pomona's  bard,  the  second  thou 

Who  nobly  durst,  in  rhyme-unfettered  verse, 

With  British  freedom  sing  the  British  song  : 

now,  from  Silurian  vats,  high-sparkling  wines 

Foam  in  transparent  floods  ;  some  strong,  to  cheer 

The  wintry  revels  of  the  laboring  hind  ; 

And  tasteful  some,  to  cool  the  summer  hours. 


—  THE  nowss  OF  noBSETSmRE.- 


In  this  glad  season,  while  1 
Tho  sun  sheds  equal  o'er  the  meekencd  day, 
0  lose  me  in  the  green  delif;htfnl  w.ilks, 
Of,  DodiliL't-n.  Miv  ^,al.  ^^  i.ur  ;,,;.!  plain  ; 
Where  sitii|il''  N  ii'n.    ii'..",        mi  ,  \ ,  ry  view, 

Diffusive,  -i-n  .i  i    ii,-    ]ni.    H.  ,  ..  ; I.'n-ns, 

In  bound  k'--  [ j.    l  ;  y !•;  -lii^-.-i  with  wood. 

Here  rich  with  harvest,  and  there  white  with  flocks  ! 

Meantime  the  grandeur  of  thy  lofty  dome, 

Far-splendid,  seizes  on  tho  ravished  eye. 

New  beauties  rise  with  each  revolving  day  ; 

New  columns  swell  ;  and  still  the  fresh  Spring  finds 

New  plants  to  quicken,  and  new  groves  to  green. 

Full  of  thy  genius  all  !  the  Muses'  seat : 

Where  in  the  secret  bower,  and  winding  walk. 

For  virtuous  Young  and  thee  they  twine  the  bay. 

Here  wandering  oft,  fired  with  the  restless  thirst 

Of  thy  applause,  I  solitary  court 

The  inspiring  breeze,  and  meditate  the  book 

Of  Nature,  ever  open  ;   aiming  thence. 

Warm  from  tho  heart,  to  learn  the  moral  song. 

Here,  as  I  steal  along  the  sunny  wall 

Where  Autumn  basks,  with  fruit  empurpled  deep. 

My  pleasing  theme  continual  prompts  my  thought : 

Presents  the  downy  peach,  the  shining  plum, 

The  ruddy,  fragrant  nectarine  ;  and,  dark 

Beneath  his  ample  leaf,  the  luscious  fig. 

Tho  vino  too  here  her  curling  tendrils  shoots, 

Hangs  out  her  clusters,  glowing  to  the  south. 

And  scarcely  wishes  for  a  warmer  sky. 

TUB    VISEYARD    ASP     VINTAGE.  —  WINK-MAKING.  —  CLARET; 

Turn  we  a  moment  Fancy's  rapid  flight 
To  vigorous  soils,  ond  climes  of  fair  extent ; 


304 


RtJKAL   POETRY. 


Where,  by  the  potent  sun  elated  high, 
The  vineyard  swells  refulgent  on  the  day, 
Spreads  o'er  the  vale  ;  or  up  the  mountain  climbs, 
Profuse,  and  drinks  amid  the  sunny  rocks. 
From  cliff  to  cliff  increased,  the  heightened  blaze. 
Low  bend  the  weighty  boughs.     The  clusters  clear. 
Half  through  the  foliage  seen,  or  ardent  flame. 
Or  shine  transparent ;  while  perfection  breathes 
AVhite  o'er  the  turgent  film  the  living  dew. 
As  thus  they  brighten  with  exalted  juice. 
Touched  into  flavor  by  the  mingling  ray  ; 
The  rural  youth  anfl  virgins  o'er  the  field. 
Each  fond  for  ciich  t"  mil  the  autumnal  prime. 
Exulting  rove,  aii^l  -p'iili  Hi-  i  intngc  nigh. 
Then  comes  the  (.ni-liinL'  n:iiii  ,  the  country  floats, 
And  foams  unbuuudud  with  the  mashy  flood  ; 
That  by  degrees  fermented,  and  refined. 
Round  the  raised  nations  pours  the  cup  of  joy  ; 
The  claret  smooth,  red  as  the  lip  we  press 
In  sparkling  fancy,  while  we  drain  the  bowl  ; 
The  mellow-tasted  Burgundy  ;  and,  quick 
As  is  the  wit  it  gives,  the  gay  Champagne. 

ADTMS   FOGS.  — THE  SCS  TKROnOU   A    FOG.  —  CHiOS. 

Now,  by  the  cool  declining  year  condensed. 
Descend  the  copious  exhalations,  checked 
As  up  the  middle  sky  unseen  they  stole. 
And  roll  the  doubling  fogs  around  the  hill. 
No  more  the  mountain,  horrid,  vast,  sublime, 
Which  pours  a  sweep  of  rivers  from  its  sides, 
And  high  between  contending  kingdoms  rears 
The  rocky  long  division,  fills  the  view 
With  great  variety  ;  but,  in  a  night 
Of  gathering  vapor,  from  the  baffled  sense 
Sinks  dark  and  dreary.     Thence  expanding  far. 
The  huge  dusk,  gradual,  swallows  up  the  plain  : 
Vanish  the  woods  ;  the  dim-seen  river  seems 
Sullen  and  slow  to  roll  tlu-  lui-iy  wavr. 
E'en  in  the  height  of  noon  ..|,],m--,  ,1,  il,,   -un 
Sheds,  weak  and  blunt,  lii>  \\  I'l.-n  i  la.hil  lay  ; 
Whence  glaring  oft,  with  many  a  ijiuiidtuLj  orb. 
He  frights  the  nations.     Indistinct  on  earth. 
Seen  through  the  turbid  air,  beyond  the  life 
Objects  appear  ;  and,  'wildered,  o'er  the  waste 
The  shepherd  stalks  gigantic.     Till  at  last 
Wreathed  dun  around,  in  deeper  circles  still 
Successive  closing,  sits  the  general  fog 
Unbounded  o'er  the  world  ;  and,  mingling  thick, 
A  formless,  gray  confusion  covers  all. 
As  when  of  old  (so  sung  the  Hebrew  bard) 
Light,  uncollected,  through  the  chaos  urged 
Its  infant  way  ;  nor  Order  yet  had  drawn 

I    His  lovely  train  from  out  the  dubious  gloom. 

j .„„,. .,       


These  roving  mists,  that  constant  now  begin 
To  smoke  along  the  hilly  country,  these 
With  weightier  rains,  and  melted  Alpine  snows. 
The  mountain-cisterns  fill,  those  ample  stores 
Of  water,  scooped  among  the  hollow  rocks  ;     [play 
Whence  gush  the  streams,  the  ceaseless  fountain 


And  their  unfailing  wealth  the  rivers  draw. 

Some  sages  say,  that,  where  the  numerous  wave 

Forever  lashes  the  resounding  shore, 

Drilled  through  th»  sarjdy  stratum,  every  way, 

The  waters  with  the  sandy  stratum  rise  ; 

Amid  whose  angles  infinitely  strained. 

They  joyful  leave  their  jaggy  salts  behind, 

And  clear  and  sweeten  as  they  soak  along. 

Nor  stops  the  restless  fluid,  mounting  still. 

Though  oft  amidst  the  irriguous  vale  it  springs  ; 

But  to  the  mountain  courted  by  the  sand. 

That  leads  it  darkling  on  in  faithful  maze, 

Far  from  the  parent  main,  it  boils  again 

Fresh  into  day,  and  all  the  glittering  hill 

Is  bright  with  spouting  rills.     But  hence  this  vain 

Amusive  dream  !  why  should  the  waters  love 

To  take  so  far  a  journey  to  the  hills. 

When  the  sweet  valleys  offer  to  their  toil 

Inviting  quiet,  and  a  nearer  bed? 

Or  if,  by  blind  ambition  led  astray. 

They  must  aspire,  why  should  they  sudden  stop 

Among  the  broken  mountain's  rushy  dells. 

And,  ere  they  gain  its  highest  peak,  desert   [long? 

The  attractive  sand  that  charmed  their  course   so 

Besides,  the  hard  agglomerating  salts. 

The  spoil  of  ages,  would  impervious  choke 

Their  secret  channels  ;   or,  by  slow  degrees, 

High  as  the  hills  protrude  the  swelling  vales  : 

Old  Ocean,  too,  sucked  through  the  porous  globe. 

Had  long  ere  now  forsook  his  horrid  bed. 

And  brought  Deucalion's  watery  times  again. 

EiPm  SDEVET   OF  THE   CmEP   MOCNTAISS  OF  THE  WORLD. 

Say,  then,  where  lurk  the  vast  eternal  springs. 
That,  like  creating  Nature,  lie  concealed 
From  mortal  eye,  yet  with  their  lavish  stores 
Refresh  the  globe,  and  all  its  joyous  tribes  ! 
0  thou  pervading  Genius,  given  to  man 
To  trace  the  secrets  of  the  dark  abyss, 
0  lay  the  mountains  bare  !  and  wide  display 
Their  hidden  structure  to  the  astoni.=hed  view  ! 
Strip  from  the  branching  Alps  their  piny  load  ; 
The  huge  incumbrance  of  horrific  woods 
From  Asian  Taurus,  from  Imaus  stretched 
Athwart  the  roving  Tartar's  sullen  bounds  ! 
Give  opening  Hemus  to  my  searching  eye, 
And  high  Olympus  pouring  many  a  stream  ; 
0  from  the  sounding  summits  of  the  north. 
The  Dofrino  Hills,  through  Scandinavia  rolled 
To  furthest  Lapland  and  the  frozen  main  ; 
From  lofty  Caucasus,  far  seen  by  those 
Who  in  the  Caspian  and  black  Euxino  toil  ; 
From  cold  Ripha;an  rocks,  which  the  wild  Russ 
Believes  the  stony  girdle  of  the  world  ; 
And  all  the  dreadful  mountains,  wrapt  in  storm. 
Whence  wide  Siberia  draws  her  lonely  floods  ; 
0  sweep  the  eternal  snows  !     Hung  o'er  the  deep. 
That  ever  works  beneath  his  sounding  base. 
Bid  Atlas,  propping  heaven,  as  poets  feign. 
His  subterranean  winders  spread  !     Unveil 
The  miny  caverns,  blazing  on  the  day, 


AUXOMN  —  SEPTEMBER. 


305 


Of  Abyssinia's  oloud-oompolling  oliBs, 
And  of  the  bonding  Mountains  of  the  Moon  ! 
O'crtopping  uU  these  giant  sons  of  earth. 
Lot  tlio  diro  Andes,  from  the  radiant  lino 
Stretched  to  the  stormy  seas  that  thunder  round 
The  southern  polo,  their  hideous  deeps  unfold  ! 


Amazing  scene  !  Behold  !  the  glooms  disclose  ; 
I  see  the  rivers  in  their  infant  beds  ! 
Deep,  deep  I  hear  them  laboring  to  get  free  ; 
I  see  the  leaning  strata,  artful  ranged  ; 
The  gaping  fissures  to  receive  the  rains, 
The  melting  snows,  and  ever-dripping  fogs. 
Strewed  bibulous  above  I  see  the  sands. 
The  pebbly  gravel  next,  the  layers  then 
Of  mingled  moulds,  of  more  retentive  earths. 
The  guttered  rucks  and  mazy-running  clefts  ; 
That,  while  the  stealing  moisture  they  transmit. 
Retard  its  motion,  and  forbid  its  waste. 
Beneath  the  incessant  weeping  of  these  drains, 
I  see  the  rocky  siphons  stretched  immense. 
The  mighty  reservoirs,  of  hardened  chalk. 
Or  stiff-compacted  clay,  capacious  formed, 
O'crflowing  thence,  the  congregated  stores. 
The  crystal  treasures  of  the  liquid  world. 
Through  the  stirred  sands  a  bubbling  passage  burst; 
And  welling  out,  around  the  middle  steep. 
Or  from  the  bottoms  of  the  bosomed  hills, 
In  pure  effusion  flow.     United,  thus, 
Th'  exhaling  sun,  the  vapor-burdened  air. 
The  gelid  mountains,  that  to  rain  condensed 
These  vapors  in  continual  current  draw, 
And  send  them,  o'er  the  fair-<livided  earth. 
In  bounteous  rivers  to  the  deep  again,  — 
A  .social  commerce  hold,  and  firm  support 
The  full-adjusted  harmony  of  things. 


THK  AmM.\AL  MlORiTIOS  OF  BIRDS. 

When  Autumn  scatters  his  departing  gleams. 
Warned  of  approaching  Winter,  gathered,  play 
The  swallow-people  ;  and  tossed  wide  around, 
O'er  the  calm  sky,  in  convolution  swift. 
The  feathered  eddy  floats  ;  rejoicing  once. 
Ere  to  their  wintry  slumbers  they  retire  ; 
In  clusters  clung,  beneath  the  mouldering  bank. 
And  where,  unpiereed  by  frost,  the  cavern  sweats. 
Or  rather  into  warmer  climes  conveyed. 
With  other  kindred  birds  of  season,  there 
They  twitter  cheerful,  till  the  vernal  months 
Invito  them  welcome  back  :  for,  thronging,  now 
Innumerous  wings  are  in  I 


Whore  the  Rhino  loses  his  majestic  force 
In  Belgian  plains,  won  from  the  raging  deep. 
By  diligence  amazing,  and  the  strong 
Uncon(iuerabIe  hand  of  Liberty, 
The  stork-assembly  meets  ;  for  many  a  day. 
Consulting  deep,  and  various,  cro  they  take 
Their  arduous  voyago  through  the  liquid  sky  : 

39  ^^^ 


And  now,  their  route  designed,  their  leaders  chose, 
Their  tribes  adjusted,  cleaned  their  vigorous  wings; 
And  many  a  circle,  many  a  short  essay, 
Wheeled  round  ond  round,  in  congregation  full 
The  figured  flight  ascends  ;  and  riding  high 
Tho  aerial  billows,  mixes  with  the  clouds. 


Or  where  the  Northern  Ocean,  in  vast  whirls. 
Boils  round  tho  naked,  melancholy  isles 
Of  furthest  Thuli,  and  the  Atlantic  surge 
Pours  in  among  the  stormy  Hebrides  ; 
Who  can  recount  what  transmigrations  there 
Are  annual  ma<le  ?  what  nations  come  and  go  ? 
And  how  the  living  clouds  on  clouds  arise  'i 
Infinite  ^vings  !  till  all  the  plume-dark  air 
And  rude-resounding  shore  are  one  wild  cry. 

>S  AND  FLOCKS.  — EGO   iSD  EIDKR-DOWS 


Here  the  plain,  harmless  native  his  small  flock, 
And  herd  diminutive,  of  many  hues. 
Tends  on  tho  little  island's  verdant  swell, 
Tho  shepherd's  sea-girt  reign  ;  or  to  tho  rocks 
Dire-clinging,  gathers  his  ovarious  food  ; 
Or  sweeps  the  fishy  shore  ;  or  treasures  up 
The  plumage,  rising  full,  to  form  tho  bed 
Of  luxury. 

BIRD'S-EYK  DESCRIPTION  OF  SCOTLAND.  —  TWEED. —JED 

And  here  a  while  tho  Muse, 
High  hovering  o'er  the  broad  cerulean  scene. 
Sees  Caledonia,  in  romantic  view  : 


PhiiiLcd  ul  «»M  ,   Iri  .i/AiiL-  liiUi'.s  between. 
Poured  out  extensive,  and  of  watery  wealth 
Full  ;  winding  deep,  and  green,  her  fertile  vales  ; 
AVith  many  a  cool,  translucent,  brimming  Hood 
Washed  lovely,  from  tho  Tweed,  pure  parent  stream. 
Whose  pastoral  banks  first  heard  my  Doric  reed. 
With,  syhuu  Jed,  thy  tributary  brook, — 
To  where  the  north-inflated  tempest  foams 
O'er  Orca's  or  Betubium's  highest  peak  : 

TUE  SCOTCH  PEOPLE.  —  WALLACE.  —  THE  ACRORA  BORSALIS. 

Xurse  of  a  people,  in  Misfortune's  school 
Trained  up  to  hardy  deeds  ;  soon  visited 
By  Learning,  when  before  the  Gothic  rage 
She  took  her  western  flight.     A  manly  race. 
Of  unsubmitting  spirit,  wise,  and  brave  ; 
Who  still  through  bleeding  ages  struggled  hard  - 
As  well  unhappy  Wallace  can  attest. 
Great  patriot-hero  !  ill-requited  chief!  — 
To  hold  a  generous,  undiminished  state  ; 
Too  much  in  vain  !  Hence  of  unequal  bounds 
Impatient,  and  by  tempting  glory  borne 
O'er  every  land,  for  every  land  their  life 
Has  flowed  profuse,  their  piercing  genius  planned, 
And  swelled  the  pomp  of  peace  their  faithful  toil : 


RURAL    POETRY. — THOMSON. 


As  from  tbeir  own  clear  north,  in  radiant  str< 
Bright  over  Europe  bursts  the  Boreal  Morn. 


0  !  is  there  not  some  patriot,  in  whose  power 
That  best,  that  godlike  luxury  is  placed, 
Of  blessing  thousands,  thousands  yet  unborn, 
Through  late  posterity  ?  some,  large  of  soul, 
To  cheer  dejected  industry  ?  to  give 
A  double  harvest  to  the  pining  swain, 
And  teach  the  laboring  hand  tlie  sweets  of  toil  ? 
How,  by  the  finest  art,  the  native  robe 
To  weave  ;  how,  white  as  hyperborean  snow. 
To  form  the  lucid  lawn  ;  with  venturous  oar 
How  to  dash  wide  the  billow  ;   nor  look  on, 
Shamefully  passive,  while  Batavian  fleets 
Defraud  us  of  the  glittering,  finny  swarms. 
That  heave  our  friths,  and  crowd  upon  our  shores  ; 
How  all-enlivening  trade  to  rouse,  and  wing 
The  prosperous  sail,  from  every  growing  port. 
Uninjured,  round  the  sea-encircled  globe  ; 
And  thus,  in  soul  united  as  in  name, 
Bid  Britain  reign  the  mistress  of  the  deep  ? 

E   OF  ARGYLE.— FORBES 


Yes,  there  are  such.     And,  full  on  thee,  Argyle, 
Her  hope,  her  stay,  her  darling,  and  her  boast, 
From  her  first  patriots  and  her  heroes  sprung, 
Thy  fond,  imploring  country  turns  her  eye  ; 
In  thee,  with  all  a  mother's  triumph,  sees 
Her  every  virtue,  every  grace  combined, 
Her  genius,  wisdom,  her  engaging  turn. 
Her  pride  of  honor,  and  her  courage  tried, 
Calm,  and  intrepid  in  the  very  throat 
Of  sulphurous  war,  on  Tenier's  dreadful  field. 
Nor  less  the  palm  of  peace  inwreathes  thy  brow  : 
For,  powerful  as  thy  sword,  from  thy  rich  tongue 
Persuasion  flows,  and  wins  the  high  debate  ; 
While  mixed  in  thee  combine  the  charm  of  youth, 
The  force  of  manhood,  and  the  depth  of  age. 
Thee,  Forbes,  too,  whom  every  worth  attends, 
As  truth  sincere,  as  weeping  friendship  kind, 
Thee,  truly  generous,  and  in  silence  great. 
Thy  country  feels  through  her  reviving  arts 
Planned  by  thy  wisdom,  by  thy  soul  informed  ; 
And  seldom  has  she  known  a  friend  like  thee. 


But  sec  the  fading,  many-colored  woods, 
Shade  deepening  over  shade,  the  country  round 
Imbrown  ;  a  crowded  umbrage,  dusk,  and  dun, 
Of  every  hue,  from  wan-declining  green 
To  sooty  dark.     These  now  the  lonesome  Muse, 
Low-whispering,  lead  into  their  leaf-strewn  walk 
And  give  the  Season  in  its  latest  view. 


Meantime,  light  shadowing  all,  a  sober  caln 
Fleeces  unbounded  ether  ;  whose  least  wave 
Stands  tremulous,  uncertain  where  to  turn 


The  gentle  current ;  while,  illumined  wide, 
The  dewy-skirted  clouds  imbibe  the  sun, 
And  through  their  lucid  veil  his  softened  force 
Shed  o'er  the  peaceful  world.     Then  is  the  time. 
For  those  whom  Wisdom  and  whom  Nature  charm, 
To  steal  themselves  from  the  degenerate  crowd, 
And  soar  above  this  little  scene  of  things  ; 
To  tread  low-thoughted  Vice  beneath  their  feet ; 
To  soothe  the  throbbing  passions  into  peace  ; 
And  woo  lone  Quiet  in  her  silent  walks. 

AUTUMNAL   MEDrTATIVE   RAMBLE.  —  FLOCK! 


Thus  solitary,  and  in  pensive  guise, 
Oft  let  me  wander  o'er  the  russet  mead,  [heard 

And  through  the  saddened  grove,  where  scarce  is 
One  dying  strain,  to  cheer  the  woodman's  toil. 
Hajily  some  widowed  songster  pours  his  plaint, 
Far,  in  faint  warblings,  through  the  tawny  copse  ; 
While  congregated  thrushes,  linnets,  larks, 
And  each  wild  throat,  whose  artless  strains  so  late 
Swelled  all  the  music  of  the  swarming  shades, 
Robbed  of  their  tuneful  souls,  now  shivering  sit 
On  the  dead  tree,  a  dull,  despondent  flock  ; 
With  not  a  brightness  waving  o'er  their  plumes, 
And  naught  save  chattering  discord  in  their  note. 
0  !  let  not,  aimed  from  some  inhuman  eye. 
The  gun  the  music  of  the  coming  year 
Destroy  ;  and  harmless,  unsuspecting  harm. 
Lay  the  weak  tribes  a  miserable  prey, 
In  mingled  murder,  fluttering  on  the  ground  ! 


The  pale,  descending  year,  yet  pleasing  still, 
A  gentler  mood  inspires  ;   for  now  the  leat 
Incessant  rustles  from  the  mournful  grove  ; 
Oft  startling  such  as,  studious,  walk  below. 
And  slowly  circles  through  the  waving  air. 
But  should  a  quicker  breeze  amid  the  boughs 
Sob,  o'er  the  sky  the  leafy  deluge  streams  ; 
Till,  choked  and  matted  with  the  dreary  shower, 
The  forest-walks,  at  every  rising  gale. 
Roll  wide  the  withered  waste,  and  whistle  bleak. 
Fled  is  the  blasted  verdure  of  the  fields  ; 
And,  shrunk  into  their  beds,  the  flowery  race 
Their  sunny  robes  resign.     E'en  what  remained 
Of  stronger  fruits  falls  from  the  naked  tree  ; 
And  woods,  fields,  gardens,  orchards,  all  around 
The  desolated  prospect  thrills  the  soul. 


He  comes  !  he  comes  !  in  every  breeze  the  Power 
Of  Philosophic  Melancholy  comes  ! 
His  near  approach  the  sudden  starting  tear, 
The  glowing  cheek,  the  mild  dejected  air, 
The  softened  feature,  and  the  beating  heart. 
Pierced  deep  with  many  a  virtuous  pang,  declare. 
O'er  all  the  soul  his  sacred  influence  breathes  ! 
Inflames  imagination  ;  through  the  breast 
Infuses  every  tenderness  ;  and  far 
Beyond  dim  earth  exalts  the  swelling  thought. 


AUTUMN  —  SEPTEMBER. 


307 


Ten  thousand  thousnnd  fleet  ideas,  such 

As  never  mingled  with  the  vulgar  dream, 

Crowd  fast  into  the  mind's  creative  eye. 

As  fast  the  correspondent  passions  rise. 

As  varied,  and  as  high  :  Devotion  raised 

To  rapture,  and  divine  astonishment  ; 

The  love  of  Nature  uneonfined,  and,  chief, 

Of  human  race  ;  the  largo  ambitious  wish 

To  make  them  blest  ;  the  sigh  for  suffering  worth 

Lost  in  obscurity  ;  the  noble  scorn 

Of  tyrant-pride  ;  the  fearless,  great  resolve  ; 

The  wonder  which  the  dying  patriot  draws, 

Inspiring  glory  through  remotest  time  ; 

The  awakened  throb  for  virtue,  and  for  fame  ; 

The  sympathies  of  love,  and  friendship  dear  ; 

With  all  the  social  offspring  of  the  heart. 

THB  SOLBMS  DArSTS  OF  NATCBB. 

0  !  bear  mo  then  to  vast  embowering  shades, 
To  twilight  groves,  and  visionary  vales  ; 
To  weeping  grottoes,  and  prophetic  glooms  ; 
Where  angel  forms  athwart  the  solemn  dusk 
Tremendous  sweep,  or  seem  to  sweep  along  ; 
And  voices  more  than  human,  through  the  void 
Deep-sounding,  seize  ( 


Or  is  this  gloom  too  much  ?    Then  lead,  ye  powers. 
That  o'er  the  garden  and  the  rural  seat 
Preside,  which  shining  through  the  cheerful  land 
In  countless  numbers  blest  Britannia  sees  ; 
0,  lead  me  to  the  wide-extended  walks. 
The  fair  majestic  paradise  of  Stowe  ! 
Not  Persian  Cyrus  on  Ionia's  shore 
E'er  saw  such  sylvan  scenes  ;  such  various  art 
By  genius  fired,  such  ardent  genius  tamed 
By  cool  judicious  art ;  that,  in  the  strife, 
AU-biauteuus  nature  fears  to  be  outdone. 
And  there,  0  Pitt,  thy  country's  early  boast, 
There  let  me  sit  beneath  the  sheltered  slopes, 
Or  in  that  temple '  where,  in  future  times. 
Thou  well  shalt  merit  a  distinguished  name  ; 
And,  with  thy  converse  blest,  catch  the  last  smiles 
Of  Autumn  beaming  o'er  the  yellow  woods. 
While  there  with  thee  the  enchanted  round  I  walk, 
The  regulated  wild,  gay  Fancy  then 
Will  tread  in  thought  the  groves  of  Attic  land  ; 
Will  from  thy  standard  taste  refine  her  own, 
Correct  her  pencil  to  the  purest  truth 
Of  nature,  or,  the  unimpassioned  shades 
Forsaking,  raise  it  to  the  human  mind. 
Or  if  hereafter  she,  with  justor  hand, 
Shall  draw  the  tragic  scene,  instruct  her,  thou. 
To  mark  the  varied  movements  of  the  heart. 
What  every  decent  character  requires. 
And  every  passion  speaks  :  0  !  through  her  strain 
Breathe  thy  pathetic  eloquence,  that  moulds 
The  attentive  senate,  charms,  persuades,  exalts,  — 
Of  honest  Zeal  the  indignant  lightning  throws. 
And  shakes  Corruption  on  her  venal  throne  ! 
1  The  Temple  of  Virtue,  in  Stowe  Gardens. 


While  thus  wo  talk,  and  through  Elysian  vale 
Delighted  rove,  perhaps  a  sigh  escapes  : 
What  pity,  Cobham,  thou  thy  verdant  files 
Of  ordered  trees  ahouldst  hero  inglorious  range. 
Instead  of  squadrons  flaming  o'er  the  field. 
And  long  embattled  hosts  !  when  the  proud  foe. 
The  faithless,  vain  disturber  of  mankind. 
Insulting  Gaul,  has  roused  the  world  to  war  ; 
When  keen,  once  more,  within  their  bounds  to  press 
Those  polished  robbers,  those  ambitious  slaves,' 
The  British  youth  would  hail  thy  wise  command. 
Thy  tempered  ardor,  and  thy  veteran  skill. 

ACTCM.SAL   EVESI.S'O  MISTS.  —  THE   HARVF-ST    MOOS.  —  MOOS- 

The  western  sun  withdraws  the  shortened  day  ; 
And  humid  Evening,  gliding  o'er  the  sky, 
In  her  chill  progress,  to  the  ground  condensed 
The  vapors  throws.     Where  creeping  waters  ooze, 
Where  marshes  stagnate,  and  where  rivers  wind, 
Cluster  the  rolling  fogs,  and  swim  along 
The  du.sky-mantlcd  lawn.     Meanwhile  the  Moon, 
Full-orbed,   and  breaking   through    the   scattered 

clouds. 
Shows  her  broad  visage  in  the  crimsoned  east. 
Turned  to  the  sun  direct,  her  spotted  disk. 
Where  mountains  rise,  umbrageous  dales  descend. 
And  caverns  deep,  as  optic  tube  descries,  — 
A  smaller  earth,  gives  us  his  blaze  again, 
Void  of  its  flame,  and  sheds  a  softer  day. 
Now  through  the  passing  cloud  she  seems  to  stoop, 
Now  up  tlie  pure  cerulean  rides  sublime. 
Wide  the  pale  deluge  floats,  and  streaming  mild 
O'er  the  skyed  mountain  to  the  shadowy  vale. 
While  rocks  and  floods  reflect  the  quivering  gleam. 
The  whole  air  whitens  with  a  boundless  tide 
Of  silver  radiance,  trembling  round  the  world. 

ACTUM.N-AL   MKTEOBS.  —  FALUSG  STABS.  —  ADBORA  BOBKAI.IS. 
—  SL'PBH^TITIONS   llESPECTINO   UETBOIIS. 

But  when,  half  blotted  from  the  sky,  her  light, 
Fainting,  permits  the  starry  fires  to  burn 
With  keener  lustre  through  the  depth  of  heaven  ; 
Or  near  extinct  her  deadened  orb  appears. 
And  scarce  appears,  of  sickly,  bcamless  white  ; 
Oft,  in  this  season,  silent  from  the  north, 
A  blaze  of  meteors  shoots  :  cnsweeping  first 
The  lower  skies,  they  all  at  once  converge 
High  to  the  crown  of  heaven,  and  all  at  once 
Relapsing  quick,  as  quickly  roascend, 
And  mix,  and  thwart,  extinguish,  and  renew, 
All  ether  coursing  in  a  maze  of  light. 

From  look  to  look,  contagious  through  the  crowd, 
The  panic  runs,  and  into  wondrous  shapes 
The  appearance  throws  :  armies  in  meet  array. 
Thronged  with  aerial  spears,  and  steeds  of  fire  ; 
Till,  the  long  lines  of  full-extended  war 
In  bleeding  fight  commixed,  the  sanguine  flood 

,  To  an  American,  this  kind  of  ribaldry,  in  which  no  many 
of  the  Knulish  poeU  indulge,  seems  anything  but  truth, 
1  magnanimity,  c 


RURAL   POETRY. THOMSON. 


Rolls  a  broad  slaughter  o'er  the  plains  of  lieaven. 
As  thus  they  scan  the  visionary  scene, 
On  all  sides  swells  the  superstitious  din, 
Incontinent  ;  and  busy  Frenzy  talks 
Of  blood  and  battle  ;  cities  overturned, 
And  late  at  night  in  swallowing  earthquake  sunk, 
Or  hideous  wrapt  in  fierce  ascending  flame  ; 
Of  sallow  famine,  inundation,  storm  ; 
Of  pestilepce,  and  every  great  distress  ; 
Empires  subversed,  when  ruling  fate  has  struck 
The  unalterable  hour  :  e'en  Nature's  self 
Is  deemed  to  totter  on  the  brink  of  time. 

Not  so  the  man  of  philosophic  eye. 
And  inspect  sage  ;  the  waving  brightness  he 
Curious  surveys,  inquisitive  to  know 
The  causes,  and  materials,  yet  unfixed. 
Of  this  appearance  beautiful  and  new. 

THE  MOONLESS   NIGHT.  — THE  STRAYED   WiTFAREK. 

Now  black,  and  deep,  the  night  begins  to  fall, 
A  shade  immense  !     Sunk  in  the  quenching  gloom, 
Magnificent  and  vast,  are  heaven  and  earth. 
Order  confounded  lies  ;  all  beauty  void  ; 
Distinction  lost  ;   and  gay  variety 
One  universal  blot :  such  the  fair  power 
Of  light,  to  kindle  and  create  the  whole. 
Drear  is  the  state  of  the  benighted  wretch. 
Who  then,  bewildered,  wanders  through  the  dark, 
Full  of  pale  fancies,  and  chimeras  huge  ; 
Nor  visited  by  one  directive  ray. 
From  cottage  streaming,  or  from  airy  hall. 


Perhaps  impatient  as  he  stumbles  on. 
Struck  from  the  root  of  slimy  rushes,  blue. 
The  wildfire  scatters  round,  or  gathered  trails 
A  length  of  flame  deceitful  o'er  the  moss  : 
Whither  decoyed  by  the  fantastic  blaze. 
Now  lost  and  now  renewed,  he  sinks  absorbed, 
Rider  and  horse,  amid  the  miry  gulf  : 
While  still,  from  day  to  day,  his  pining  wife 
And  plaintive  children  his  return  await. 
In  wild  conjecture  lost.     At  other  times. 
Sent  by  the  better  genius  of  the  night. 
Innoxious,  gleaming  on  the  horse's  mane. 
The  meteor  sits  ;  and  shows  the  narrow  path, 
That  winding  leads  through  pits  of  death,  or  else 
Instructs  him  how  to  take  the  dangerous  ford. 


The  lengthened  night  elapsed,  the  morning  shines 
Serene,  in  all  her  dewy  beauty  bright, 
Unfolding  fair  the  last  autumnal  day. 
And  now  the  mounting  sun  dispels  the  fog  ; 
The  rigid  hoar-frost  melts  before  his  beam  ; 
And  hung  on  every  spray,  on  every  blade 
Of  grass,  the  myriad  dew-drops  twinkle  round. 


Ah,  see  where,  robbed  and  murdered,  in  that  pit 


Lies  the  still  heaving  hive  !  at  evening  snatched, 

Beneath  the  cloud  of  guilt-conccaling  night, 

And  fixed  o'er  sulphur  ;  while,  not  dreaming  ill, 

The  happy  people,  In  their  waxen  cells. 

Sat  tending  public  cares,  and  planning  schemes 

Of  temperance,  for  Winter  poor  ;  rejoiced 

To  mark,  full  flowing  round,  their  copious  stores. 

Sudden  the  dark,  oppressive  steam  ascends  ; 

And,  used  to  milder  scents,  the  tender  race, 

By  thousands,  tumble  from  their  honeyed  domes, 

Convolved,  and  agonizing  in  the  dust. 

And  was  it,  then,  for  this  you  roamed  the  Spring, 

Intent  from  flower  to  flower?  for  this  you  toiled 

Ceaseless  the  burning  summer-heats  away  ? 

For  this  in  Autumn  searched  the  blooming  waste. 

Nor  lost  one  sunny  gleam  ?  for  this  sad  fate  ? 

0  man  !  tyrannic  lord  !  how  long,  how  long 

Shall  prostrate  Nature  groan  beneath  your  rage. 

Awaiting  renovation  ?     When  obliged. 

Must  you  destroy?  of  their  ambrosial  food 

Can  you  not  borrow  ;  and,  in  just  return, 

Afford  them  shelter  from  the  wintry  winds  ? 

Or,  as  the  sharp  year  pinches,  with  their  own 

Again  regale  them  on  some  smiling  day  ? 

See  where  the  stony  bottom  of  their  town 

Looks  desolate,  and  wild  ;  with  here  and  there 

A  helpless  number,  who  the  ruined  state 

Survive,  lamenting  weak,  cast  out  to  death. 

Thus  a  proud  city,  populous  and  rich. 

Full  of  the  works  of  peace,  and  high  iu  joy. 

At  theatre  or  feast,  or  sunk  in  sleep,  — 

As  late,  Palermo,  was  thy  fate,  —  is  seized 

By  some  dread  earthquake,  and  convulsive  hurled 

Sheer  from  the  black  foundation,  stench-involved. 

Into  a  gulf  of  blue  sulphureous  flame.   ' 


WRESTLING-MATCH. 

Hence  every  harsher  sight !  for  now  the  day, 
O'er  heaven  and  earth  diffused,  grows  warm,  and 
Infinite  splendor  !  wide  investing  all.  [high  ; 

How  still  the  breeze  !  save  what  the  filmy  thread 
Of  dew  evaporate  brushes  from  the  plain. 
How  clear  the  cloudless  sky  !  how  deeply  tinged 
AVith  a  peculiar  blue  !  the  ethereal  arch 
How  swelled  immense  !  amid  whose  azure  throned. 
The  radiant  sun  how  gay  !  how  calm  below 
The  gilded  earth  !  the  harvest-treasures  all 
Now  gathered  in,  beyond  the  rage  of  storms, 
Sure  to  the  swain  ;  the  circling  fence  shut  up  ; 
And  instant  Winter's  utmost  rage  defied  ; 
While,  loose  to  festive  joy,  the  country  round 
Laughs  with  the  loud  sincerity  of  mirth,       [youth, 
Shook   to   the  wind  their  cares.     The   toil-strung 
By  the  quick  sense  of  music  taught  alone. 
Leaps  wildly  graceful  in  the  lively  dance. 
Her  every  charm  abroad,  the  village  toast. 
Young,  buxom,  warm,  in  native  beauty  rich. 
Darts  not  uumeaning  looks  ;  and,  where  her  eye 
Points  an  approving  smile,  with  double  force 


AUTUMN  —  SEPTEMBER. 


Tho  cudgel  rattles,  and  the  wrestler  twines. 
Age  too  shines  out  ;  and,  garrulous,  recounts 
Tho  feats  of  youth.     Thus  they  rejoice  ;  nor  th 
That,  with  to-morrow's  sun,  their  annual  toil 
Begins  again  tho  never-ceasing  round. 


POMP,    KLATTEHV,   ASD   C4RB3   OF   TUB  ini    Ulin. 

0,  linow  ho  but  his  happiness,  of  men 
Tho  happiest  ho  !  who  far  from  public  rago, 
Deep  in  tho  vale,  with  a  choice  few  retired, 
Drinks  tho  pure  pleasures  of  tho  Kural  Life,   [gate, 
What  th"Uf;h  the  dome  bo  wanting,  whoso  proud 
Kin-h  nK.ruiiij;,  vomits  out  tho  sneaking  crowd 
or  llatterers  false,  and  in  thoir  turn  abused  ? 
Vile  intercourse  !    What  though  the  glittering  robe, 
Of  every  hue  reflected  light  can  give, 
Or  floating  loose,  or  stiff  with  mazy  gold, 
The  pride  and  gaze  of  fools,  oppress  him  not? 
What  though,  from  utmost  land  and  sea  purveyed, 
For  him  each  rarer  tributary  life 
Bleeds  not,  and  his  Insatiate  table  heaps 
With  lu.xury  and  death  ?     What  though  his  bowl 
Flames  not  with  costly  juice  ;  nor  sunk  in  bods, 
Oft  of  gay  care,  ho  tosses  out  the  night. 
Or  melts  tho  thoughtless  hours  in  idle  state  ? 
What  though  ho  knows  not  those  fantastic  joys 
That  still  amuse  the  wanton,  still  deceive  ; 
A  face  of  pleasure,  but  a  heart  of  pain  ; 
Their  hollow  moments  undclighted  all  ? 


TRCE    HAPPISKSS.  —  AGRICULTURAL     PLENTY 

COU.-iTRY  SCESERY  ASD   RURAL  VIRTUES. 

Sure  peace  is  his  ;  a  solid  life,  estranged 
To  disappointment,  and  fallacious  hope  : 
Rich  in  content,  in  Nature's  bounty  rich, 
In  herbs  and  fruits  ;  whatever  greens  the  Spring, 
When  heaven  descends  in  showers  ;  or  bends  tho 

bough. 
When  Summer  reddens,  and  when  Autumn  beams  ; 
Or  in  tho  wintry  glebe  whatever  lies 
Concealed,  and  fattens  with  tho  richest  sap  : 
These  are  not  wanting  ;  nor  tho  milky  drove, 
Luxuriant,  spread  o'er  all  tho  lowing  vale  ; 
Nor  bleating  mountains  ;  nor  tho  chido  of  stroamg, 
And  hum  of  bees,  inviting  sleep  sincere 
Into  tho  guiltless  breast,  beneath  tho  shade, 
Or  thrown  at  largo  amid  the  fragrant  hay  ; 
Nor  aught  besides  of  prospect,  grove,  or  song. 
Dim  grottoes,  gleaming  lakes,  and  fountain  clear. 
Here  too  dwells  simple  Truth  ;  plain  Innocence  ; 
Unsullied  Beauty  ;  sound,  unbroken  Youth, 
Patient  of  labor,  with  a  little  pleased  ; 
Health  ever  blooming  ;  unambitious  Toil ; 
Calm  Contemplation,  and  poetic  Ease. 


THB  sailor's  and  SOLDIBr'S  LIVES  CONTRASTED  WITH  THAT 
OF  THE  r ARMEH.  —  TOR  UONEY-MAKRR  }  LAWVEIt  }  POLI- 
TICIAN. 

Let  others  bravo  tho  flood  in  quest  of  gain. 
And  beat,  for  joyless  months,  tho  gloomy  wave. 
Let  such  as  doom  it  glory  to  destroy 


Rush  into  blood,  the  sack  of  cities  seek  ; 

Unpierced,  exulting  in  tho  widow's  wail,  1 

Tho  virgin's  shriek,  and  infant's  trembling  cry.  I 

Let  some,  fnr-<listant  from  their  native  soil,  i 

Urged  or  by  want  or  hardened  avarice, 

Find  other  lands  beneath  another  sun. 

Lot  this  through  cities  work  his  eager  way, 

By  legal  outrage  and  established  guile, 

Tho  social  sense  extinct  ;  and  that  ferment 

Mad  into  tumult  tho  seditious  herd. 

Or  molt  them  down  to  slavery.     Let  these 

Ensnare  the  wretched  in  tho  toils  of  law. 

Fomenting  discord,  and  perplexing  right, 

An  iron  race  !  and  those  of  fairer  front. 

But  ecjual  inhumanity,  in  courts, 

Delusive  pomp,  and  dark  cabals,  delight ; 

Wreathe  the  deep  bow,  diffuse  the  lying  smile, 

And  tread  tho  weary  labyrinth  of  state. 


While  he,  from  all  the  stormy  passions  free 
That  restlcs?  nvn  iiivlv.  li-ars,  and  but  hears. 
At  distance  -:if-,  th.   hiiiiiiii  trmpcst  roar, 

Wrapped  L-l.Krn i  ■ -  i Tho  fall  of  kings, 

Tho  rage  of  iiati.-n-,  ;.ivl  thr  .rush  of  states, 

Move  not  the  man,  who,  from  the  world  escaped, 

In  still  retreats  and  flowery  solitudes. 

To  Nature's  voii-e  attends,  from  month  to  month, 

And  day  t..  lUy.  thr  .i-h  th-  ni-volving  year  ; 

Admiring,  ."r.     I  .  i   i  ,  ',  -ly  ,-hapc  ; 

Feels  all  hir    ■,,      '      i  ■  Ins  heart; 

Takes  what  hIi.   lil- i  il  li>-,  i,.ir  thinks  of  more. 

He,  when  young  .'Spring  prdtrudcs  the  bursting  germs, 

Marks  the  first  bud,  and  sucks  the  healthful  gale 

Into  his  freshened  soul  ;  her  gonial  hours 

He  full  enjoys  ;  and  not  a  beauty  blows. 

And  not  an  opening  blossom  breathes  in  vain. 

In  Summer  he,  beneath  the  living  shade. 

Such  as  o'er  frigid  Temp^  wont  to  wave. 

Or  Hemus  cool,  reads  what  the  muse,  of  these. 

Perhaps,  has  in  immortal  numbers  sung  ; 

Or  what  she  dictates  writes  :  and,  oft  an  eyo 

Shot  round,  rejoices  in  tho  vigorous  year. 

RURAL  ENJOYMENTS  OF  AUTUMN  AND  WINTER.  —  FBIBNDS  ) 
BOOKS  i  IMAGINATION  •,  FAMILY  ;  CUILDHES  J  DANCE  AND 
SONU.  —  LIFE  OF  THE  ADAMIC,  OR    OOLDES    AOE. 

When  Autumn's  yellow  lustre  gilds  tho  world. 
And  tempts  the  siokled  swain  into  tho  field, 
Seized  by  the  general  joy,  his  heart  distends 
With  gentle  throes  ;  and,  through  the  tepid  gleams 
Deep  musing,  then  ho  best  exerts  his  song. 
E'en  Winter  wild  to  him  is  full  of  bliss. 
Tho  mighty  tempest,  and  the  honry  waste, 
Abrupt  and  deep,  stretched  o'er  the  buried  earth. 
Awake  to  solemn  thought.     At  night  the  skies. 
Disclosed,  and  kindled,  by  refining  frost, 
Pour  every  lustre  on  tho  exalted  eye. 
A  friend,  a  book,  the  stealing  hours  secure. 
And  mark  them  down  for  wisdom.     With  swift  wing 
O'er  land  and  sea  imagination  roams  ; 


310 


RURAL    POETRY. THOMSON TUSSER. 


Or  truth,  divinely  breaking  on  his  mind, 

Elates  his  being,  and  unfolds  his  powers  ; 

Or  in  his  breast  heroic  virtue  burns. 

The  touch  of  kindred  too  and  love  he  feels  ; 

The  modest  eye,  whose  beams  on  his  alone 

Ecstatic  shine  ;  the  little,  strong  embrace 

Of  prattling  children,  twined  around  his  neck. 

And  emulous  to  please  him,  calling  forth 

The  fond  parental  soul.     Nor  purpose  gay. 

Amusement,  dance,  or  song,  he  sternly  scorns  ; 

For  happiness  and  true  philosophy 

Are  of  the  social,  still,  and  smiling  kind. 

This  is  the  life  which  those  who  fret  in  guilt, 

And  guilty  cities,  uover  knew  ;  the  life 

Led  by  primeval  ages,  uncorrupt. 

When  angels  dwelt,  and  God  Himself,  with  man  ! 


0,  Nature  !  all-sufficient !  over  all ! 
Enrich  me  with  the  knowledge  of  thy  works  ; 


Snatch  me  to  heaven  ;  thy  rolling  wonders  there. 

World  beyond  world,  in  infinite  c.iitent, 

Profusely  scattered  o'er  the  blue  immense. 

Show  me  ;  their  motions,  periods,  and  their  laws 

Give  me  to  scan  ;  through  the  disclosing  deep 

Light  my  blind  way  :  the  mineral  strata  there  ; 

Thrust  blooming  thence  the  vegetable  world  ; 

O'er  that  the  rising  system,  more  complex, 

Of  animals  ;  and,  higher  still,  the  mind. 

The  varied  scene  of  quick-compounded  thought, 

And  where  the  mixing  passions  endless  shift ; 

These  ever  open  to  my  ravished  eye 

A  search  the  flight  of  time  can  ne'er  exhaust ! 

But  if  to  that  unequal,  —  if  the  blood. 

In  sluggish  streams  about  my  heart,  forbid 

That  best  ambition,  —  under  closing  shades, 

Inglorious,  lay  me  by  the  lowly  brook. 

And  whisper  to  my  dreams.     From  Thee  begin, 

Dwell  all  on  Thee,  with  Thee  conclude  my  song  ; 


And  let  i 


stray  from  Thee  ! 


^usscr's    "Sfjitcmlrfr's   JjuslritnVri)." 


Thresh  seed,  and  to  fanning,  September  doth  cry, 
Get  plough  to  the  field,  and  be  sowing  of  rye  : 
To  harrow  the  ridges,  ere  ever  ye  strike,^ 
Is  one  piece  of  husbandry  Sufifolk  doth  like. 

Sow  timely  thy  white  wheat,  sow  rye  in  the  dust, 
Let  seed  have  his  longing,  let  soil  have  her  lust.2  ** 
But  sow  it  not  mixed,  to  grow  so  on  land, 
Lest  rye  tarry  wheat,  till  it  shed  as  it  stand.     *     * 

Though  beans  be  in  sowing  but  scattered  in. 
Yet  wheat,  rye,  and  peason,  I  love  not  too  thin  : 
Sow  barley  and  dredge  with  a  plentiful  hand. 
Lest  weed,  stead  of  seed,  overgroweth  thy  land. 
No  sooner  a  sowing,  but  out  by  and  by, 
With  mother  or  boy,  that  alarum  can  cry  ; 
And  let  them  be  armed  with  sling  or  with  bow. 
To  scare  away  pigeon,  the  rnok,  and  the  crow.-'^ 
Seed  sown,  draw  a  furrow,  the  water  to  drain, 
And  dyke  up  such  ends  as  in  harm  do  remain.  *  * 
Saint  Michel  doth  bid  thee  amend  the  marsh  wall. 
The  brock  and  the  crab-hole,  the  foreland  and  all.** 
Now  geld,  with  the  gelder,  the  ram  and  the  bull. 
Sew  ponds,  amend  dams,  and  sell  webstcr  thy  wool. 

1  Striking  is  the  last  ploughing  before  the  seed  is  com- 
mitted to  the  ground. 

2  That  is,  adapt  yourself  to  the  natures  of  soils  and  seeds. 
8  Crows  destroy  insects  enough  to  pay  for  any  temporary 

depredations,  especially  if  watclied  during  sowing  ;  pigeons 


Out,  fruit  go  and  gather,  but  not  in  the  dew, 
With  crab  and  the  walnut,  for  fear  of  a  shrew. 
The  moon  in  the  wane,  gather  fruit  for  to  last, 
But  winter  fruit  gather  when  Michel  is  past.  *  * 

Fruit  gathered  too  timely  will  taste  of  the  wood, 
Will  shrink  and  be  bitter,  and  seldom  prove  good  : 
So  fruit  that  is  shaken,  and  beat  oflf  a  tree. 
With  bruising  in  falling,  soon  faulty  will  be. 

Now  burn  up  the  bees,  that  ye  mind  for  to  drive, 
At  midsummer  drive  them,  and  save  them  alive  ; 
Place  hive  in  good  air,  set  southly  and  warm, 
And  take,  in  due  season,  wax  honey  and  swarm. 

Set  hive  on  a  plank,  not  too  low  by  the  ground, 
Where  herb  with  the  flowers  may  compass  it  round; 
And  boards  to  defend  it  from  north  and  north-east, 
From  showers  and  rubbish,  from  vermin  and  beast. 

Wife,  into  thy  garden,  and  set  me  a  plot. 
With  strawberry  roots,  of  the  best  to  be  got  : 
Such  growing  abroad,  among  thorns  in  the  wood, 
Well  chosen  and  picked,  prove  excellent  good. 
The  barberry,  respis,  and  gooseberry,  too, 
Look  now  to  be  planted,  as  other  things  do  : 
The  gooseberry,  respis,  and  roses,  all  three, 
With  strawberries  under  them,  trimly  agree.     *     * 

Now  pluck  up  thy  hemp,  and  go  beat  out  the  seed, 
And  afterward  water  it,  as  ye  see  need.      *     * 


Ill vo lime's    "111 vita n Ilia's    pastorals 


EXT  K  ACTS. 


THK    GOLDES    ACE    DKSCRIBKO.  —  OBADUAL    CORRDPTIOK. 

Happy  yo  days  of  oUl,  when  every  waste 
Was  like  a  sanctuary  to  the  chaste  ; 
When  incests,  rapes,  adulteries,  were  not  known, 
All  pure  as  blossoms  which  are  newly  blown. 
Maids  wore  as  free  from  spots  and  soils  within. 
As  most  unblemished  in  the  outward  skin. 
Men  every  plain  and  cottage  did  afford. 
As  smooth  in  deeds,  as  they  were  fair  of  word. 
Maidens  with  nicri  aa  sisters  with  their  brothers. 
And  men  and  maids  conversed  as  with  their  mothers 
Free  from  suspicion,  or  the  rage  of  blood. 
Strife  only  reigned,  for  all  strived  to  be  good. 

8IMILB  or  TUB  FLEDGLIKG  WRBXS. 

But  then,  as  little  wrens  but  newly  fledged, 
First  by  their  nests,  hop  up  and  down  the  hedge  ; 
Then  one  from  bough  to  bough  gets  up  a  tree. 
His  follow  noting  his  agility. 
Thinks  he  as  well  may  venture  as  the  other. 
So  fluttering  from  one  spray  unto  another 
Gets  to  the  top,  and  then  emboldened  flies 
Unto  a  height  past  ken  of  human  eyes. 
So  time  brought  worse  ;  men  first  desired  to  talk, 
Th,.n  .-.«»■■  'K-r-l  :   nw\  tlwi,  i,  ,.vUm,-  vvnik  ; 

Th..n  1.;,    .     !,-;>,.;■    .i:,'.    i    ii'i:         •!   ,,,    •  ■'„'_'. 


They  eainc  t.,  — but  to  «h:it  1  blush  tu  !.■ 
And  entered  thus,  rapes  used  were  of  all. 
Incest,  adultery,  held  as  venial  ; 
The  certainty  in  doubtful  balance  rests 
If  beasts  did  learn  of  men,  or  men  of  beas 


And  as  within  a  landscape  that  doth  stand 
Wrought  by  the  pencil  of  some  curious  hand. 
We  may  descry  here  meadow,  there  a  wood. 
Here  standing  ponds,  and  there  a  running  flood. 
Hero  on  some  mount  a  house  of  pleasure  vaunted. 
Where  once  the  roaring  cannon  had  been  planted  ; 
There  on  a  hill  a  swain  pipes  out  the  day. 
Out-braving  all  the  choristers  of  May. 
A  huntsman  hero  follows  his  cry  of  hounds, 
Driving  the  hare  along  the  fallow  grounds  ; 
Whilst  one  at  hand,  seeming  the  sport  to  allow, 
Follows  the  hounds,  and  careless  leaves  the  plough. 
There  in  another  place  some  high-raised  land 
In  pride  bears  out  her  breasts  unto  the  strand. 
Here  stands  a  bridge,  and  there  a  conduit  head. 
While  round  a  May-pole  some  the  measures  tread  ; 
There  boys  the  truant  play  and  leave  their  book  — 


Hero  stands  an  angler  with  a  baited  hook. 
There  for  a  stag  one  lurks  within  a  bough  — 
Here  sits  a  maiden  milking  of  her  cow. 
There  on  a  goodly  phiin,  by  Time  thrown  down. 

Lies  buried  in  his  do -I      fin   :in i  i.wii; 

Who  now  in-villagi'l.  1 i  " 

In  its  vast  ruins  whui  :i  i-  .  n  ; 
And  all  of  these  in  sliiul-.tt.-  .-..  i.v,.u..ocd 
Make  the  beholder's  eyes  to  take  no  rest.    *     * 

TWO  DATS  DESCRIBED. 

Now  had  the  sun,  in  golden  chariot  hurled, 
Twice  bid  good-morrow  to  the  nether  world  ; 
And  Cynthia,  in  her  orb  and  perfect  round. 
Twice  viewed  the  shadows  of  the  upper  ground. 
Twice  had  the  day-star  ushered  forth  the  light  ; 
And  twice  the  evening  star  proclaimed  the  night. 
Ere  once  the  sweet-faced  boy  (now  all  forlorn) 
Came  with  his  pipe  to  rc-saluto  the  morn.     *     * 


In  Winter's  time  when  hardly  fed  the  flocks, 
And  icicles  hung  dangling  on  the  rocks, 
AVhen  H.vcm.  l.nmi.l  tlip  fl"f-I;s  in  silver  chains. 
And  hoary  I'i'-i  -  ii;i'l  -  .m-li' 'i   ill  il"    plains; 
AVhenev.'n  Isim  n.n-  unii  iIm-  ;  in,.  Iiiiig  flails. 
And  shcplml-'  \>"\-  I   i  r,,|il   -an  lii   w  their  nails  : 
Wearied  with  tciil  in  seeking  out  sonic  one 
That  had  a  spark  of  true  devotion  ; 
It  was  my  chance,  chance  only  helpeth  need. 
To  find  an  house  'ybuilt  for  holy  deed. 
With  goodly  architect,  and  cloisters  wide, 
With  groves  and  walks  along  a  river's  side  ; 
The  place  itself  afforded  admiration. 
And  every  spray  a  theme  of  contemplation. 
But,  woe  is  me,  when  knocking  at  the  gate, 
I  'gan  to  entreat  an  entrance  thereat : 
The  porter  asked  my  name,  I  told  ;  he  swelled. 
And  bade  me  thence  ;  wherewith  in  grief  repelled, 
I  sought  for  shelter  to  a  ruined  house. 
Harboring  the  weasel,  and  the  dust-bred  mouse  ; 
And  others  none,  except  the  two-kind  but. 
Which  all  the  day  there  melancholy  sat  ; 
Here  sat  I  down  with  wind  and  rain  sore  beat, 
Orief  fed  my  mind,  and  did  my  body  ent  : 
Yet  Idleness  I  saw,  lamed  with  the  gout. 
Had  entrance  when  poor  truth  was  kept  without. 
There  saw  I  Drunkenness,  with  dropsies  swollen  : 
And  pampered  Lust,  that  many  a  night  had  stolon 
Over  the  abbey-wall  when  gates  were  locked. 
To  be  in  Venus'  wanton  bosom  rocked  : 


RURAL    POETRY. — W.    BROWNE. 


And  Gluttony,  that  surfeiting  had  been, 
Knock  at  the  gate  and  straightway  taken  i 
Sadly  I  sat,  and  sighing  grieved  to  see 
Their  happiness,  my  infelicity.     *     *     * 


By  this  had  Cbanticleer,  the  village  cock, 
Bidden  the  good  wife  for  her  maids  to  knock. 
And  the  swart  pi cu finnan  for  his  breakfast  stayed, 
That  Ii'    Ml  :j!ii  htl  ill     '    Iiuids  where  fallow  laid. 
The  iiill     HI  I      i!i.       iM  re  und  there  resound 
AVitli  ih  i      :■    .l-ep-raouthed  hound. 

Each  ^heplirid  ..  diiu^Uur,  with  her  cleanly  pail, 
Was  cume  a  field  tu  milk  the  morning's  meal. 
And  ere  the  sun  had  climbed  the  eastern  hills, 
To  gild  the  muttering  bournes  and  pretty  rills, 
Before  the  laboring  bee  had  left  the  hive, 
And  nimble  fishes,  which  in  rivers  dive, 
Began  to  leap,  and  catch  the  drowned  fly  — 
I  rose  from  rest,  not  in  felicity. 
truth's  unsdccessful  search  after  aid  and  comfort.  — 


Seeking  the  phi'<' "I  i  iu  i  i:  > '•  r.-ort. 
Unawares  I  h:i]i|MiM  l  ■■■■  :i  i  1 1  ,     '^  rnurt  ; 
Where  meeting  *.i..:i.       ,  i  .     ,    i,  ..1  relief. 
'  0,  happy  undt.da_w.'i."  -h.:  .-,u4  in  Wrief, 

*  To  small  effect  tiiine  oratory  tends  — 
How  can  I  keep  thee  and  so  many  friends? 
If  of  my  household  I  should  make  thee  one, 
Farewell  my  servant  Adulation. 

I  know  she  will  not  stay  when  thou  art  there, 
But  seek  some  great  man's  service  other  where. 
Darkness  and  light,  Summer  and  Winter's  weather. 
May  bo  at  once,  ere  you  two  live  together.' 
Thus  with  a  nod  she  left  me  clothed  in  woe  ; 
Thence  to  the  city  once  I  thought  to  go, 
But  somewhat  in  my  mind  this  thought  had  thrown, 
'  It  was  a  place  wherein  I  was  not  known.' 
And  therefore  went  unto  these  homely  towns, 
Sweetly  environed  with  the  daisied  downs. 

Upon  a  stream  washing  a  village  end 
A  mill  is  placed,  that  never  difference  kend 
'Twixt  days  for  work,  and  holy  tides  for  rest, 
But  always  wrought  and  ground  the  neighbor's  grist. 
Before  the  door  I  saw  the  miller  walking. 
And  other  two  (his  neighbors)  with  him  talking. 
One  of  them  was  a  weaver,  and  the  other 
The  village  tailor,  and  his  trusty  brother  ; 
To  them  I  came,  and  thus  my  suit  began  : 

*  Content,  the  riches  of  a  countryman, 
Attend  your  actions,  be  more  happy  still, 
Than  I  am  hapless  ;   and  as  yonder  mill, 
Though  in  his  turning  it  obey  the  stream, 
Yet  by  the  headstrong  torrent  from  his  beam 
Is  unremoved,  and  till  the  wheel  be  tore, 

It  daily  toils  ;  then  rests,  and  works  no  more. 
So  in  life's  motion  may  you  never  be 
(Though  swayed  with  griefs)  overborne  with  misery. 
With  that  tho  miller,  laughing,  brushed  his  clothes. 
Then  swore,  by  cock  and  other  dunghill  oaths. 


I  greatly  was  to  blame,  that  durst  so  wade 
Into  the  knowledge  of  a  wheelwright's  trade. 
I,  neighbor,  quoth  the  tailor  (then  he  bent 
His  pace  to  me,  sprilce  like  a  Jack  of  Lent), 
Your  judgment  is  not  seam-rent  when  you  spend  it. 
Nor  is  it  botching,  for  I  cannot  mend  it. 
And,  maiden,  let  me  tell  you,  in  displeasure. 
You  must  not  press  the  cloth  you  cannot  measure  : 
But  let  your  steps  be  stitched  to  wisdom's  chalking, 
And  cast  presumptuous  shreds  out  of  your  walking. 
The  weaver  said,  Fie,  wench,  yourself  you  wrong, 
Thus  to  let  slip  the  shuttle  of  your  tongue  ; 
For  mark  me  well,  yea,  mark  me  well,  I  say, 
I  see  you  work  your  speech's  web  astray. 
Sad  to  the  soul,  o'erlaid  with  idle  words, 

0  heaven,  quoth  I,  where  is  the  place  affords 
A  friend  to  help,  or  any  heart  that  ruth 
The  most  dejected  hopes  of  wronged  Truth  ! 
Truth  !  quoth  the  miller,  plainly  for  our  parts, 

1  and  the  weaver  hate  thee  with  our  hearts  ; 
The  strifes  you  raise  I  will  not  now  discuss, 
Between  our  honest  customers  and  us. 

But  get  you  gone,  for  sure  you  may  despair 
Of  comfort  here,  seek  it  some  other  where. 
Maid,  quoth  the  tailor,  we  no  succor  owe  you. 
For,  as  I  guess,  here 's  none  of  us  doth  know  you  ; 
Nor  my  remembrance  any  thought  can  seize 
That  I  have  ever  seen  you  in  my  days. 
Seen  you?  nay,  therein  confident  I  am  : 
Nay,  till  this  time  I  never  heard  your  name, 
Excepting  once,  and  by  this  token  chief. 
My  neighbor  at  that  instant  called  me  thief. 
By  this  you  see  you  are  unknown  among  us  ; 
We  cannot  help  you,  though  your  stay  may  wrong  us. 


Just  half  the  way  this  solitary  grove, 
A  crystal  spring  from  either  hill-side  strove. 
Which  of  them  first  should  woo  the  meeker  ground. 
And  make  the  pebbles  dance  unto  their  sound. 
But  as  when  children  having  leave  to  play, 
And  near  the  master's  eye  sport  out  the  day, 
Beyond  condition,  in  their  childish  toys, 
Oft  vex  their  tutor  with  too  great  a  noise, 
And  make  him  send  some  servant  out  of  doors, 
To  cease  their  clamor,  lest  they  play  no  more  ; 
So  when  the  pretty  rill  a  place  espies. 
Where  with  the  pebbles  she  would  wantonize  ; 
And  that  her  upper  stream  so  much  doth  wrong  her, 
To  drive  her  thence,  and  let  her  play  no  longer, 
If  she  with  too  loud  muttering  ran  away. 
As  being  much  incensed  to  leave  her  play  ; 
A  western,  mild,  and  pretty  whispering  gale, 
Came  dallying  with  the  leaves  along  the  dale, 
And  seemed  as  with  the  water  it  did  chide, 
Because  it  ran  so  long  unpacified. 
Yea,  and  methought  it  bade  her  leave  that  coil, 
Or  he  would  choke  her  up  with  leaves  and  soil  ; 
Whereat  the  rivulet  in  my  mind  did  weep. 
And  hurled  her  head  into  a  silent  deep.         *         * 


'  SEPTEMBER. 


313 


THB  FOUR  SKAttoSS. 

And  as  the  year  hath  first  his  jocund  Spring, 
Wherein  the  leaves,  to  birds'  sweet  carolling. 
Dance  with  the  wind  ;  then  sees  the  Summer'a  day 
Perfect  the  cinbryon  blossom  of  each  spray. 
Ne.\t  comoth  Autumn,  when  the  thrcshi-d  sheaf 
Loseth  his  grain,  and  ovory  troc  his  leaf. 
Lastly,  cold  Winter's  rage,  with  many  a  storm, 
Threats  the  proud  pines  which  Ida's  top  adorn, 
And  makes  the  sap  leave  suocorless  the  shoot, 
Shrinking  to  comfort  his  decaying  root.     *     * 


TUB    EFFECT    OF 


COMPABED    TO 


When  Riot  came,  the  lady's  pnins  nigh  done, 
She  passed  the  gate,  and  then  Kemorso  began 
To  fetter  Riot  in  strong  iron  chains  ; 
And  doubting  much  his  patience  in  the  pains. 
As  when  a  smith  and  's  man  (lame  Vulcan's  fellows) 
Called  from  the  anvil  or  the  puffing  bellows, 
To  clap  a  well-wrought  shoe,  for  more  than  pay, 
I'pon  a  stubborn  nag  of  Galloway  ; 
Or  unbacked  jennet,  or  0,  Flanders  mare. 
That  at  the  furgo  stand  sniffing  of  the  air. 
The  swarthy  smith  spits  in  his  buckhorn  fist. 
And  bids  his  men  bring  out  the  five-fold  twist. 
His  shackles,  shacklocks,  hampers,  gyves  and  chains, 
llis  linked  bolts  ;  and  with  no  little  pains 
These  make  him  fast;  and  lest  all  these  should  falter. 
Unto  a  post  with  some  six-doubled  halter 
He  binds  his  head  ;  yet  all  are  of  the  least 
To  curb  the  fury  of  the  headstrong  beast ; 
When  if  a  carrier's  jade  he  brought  unto  him. 
His  man  can  hold  his  foot  whilst  ho  can  shoe  him. 
Remorse  was  so  enforced  to  bind  him  stronger, 
lieoiuse  his  faults  required  infliction  longer, 
Than  any  sin-pressed  wight  which  many  a  day, 
Since  Judas  hung  himself,  had  passed  that  way.  *  * 

THE  ANOLEB. 

Xow  as  an  angler  melancholy  standing 
Upon  a  green  bank  yielding  room  for  landing, 
A  wriggling  yellow  worm  thrust  on  his  hook. 
Now  in  the  midst  he  throws,  then  in  a  nook  ; 
Here  pulls  his  line,  there  throws  it  in  again. 
Mending  his  crook  and  bait,  —  but  all  in  vain, 
He  long  stands  viewing  of  the  curled  stream  ; 
At  last  a  hungry  pike,  or  well-grown  bream, 
Snatch  at  the  worm,  and  hasting  fast  away,  — 
He  knowing  it  a  fish  of  stubborn  sway, 
Pulls  up  his  rod,  but  soft,  as  having  skill  ; 
Wherewith  the  hook  fast  holds  the  fisli's  gill. 
Then  all  his  lino  ho  freely  yicldeth  him. 
Whilst  furiously  all  up  and  down  doth  swim 
The  ensnared  fish  ;  here  on  the  top  doth  scud, 
There  underneath  the  banks,  then  in  the  mud  ; 
And  with  his  frantic  fits  so  scares  the  shoal, 
That  each  one  takes  his  hide  or  starting  hole  : 
By  this  the  pike  clean  wearied,  underneath 
A  willow  lies,  and  pants  (if  fishes  breathe). 
Wherewith  the  angler  gently  pulls  him  to  him, 


And  lest  his  haste  might  happen  to  undo  him. 
Lays  down  bis  rod,  then  takes  his  lino  in  hand 
And  by  degrees  getting  the  fish  to  lanil. 
Walks  to  another  pool  :  at  length  is  winner 
Of  such  a  dish  us  serves  him  for  his  dinner.     * 


Then,  as  a  nimble  squirrel  from  the  wood. 
Ranging  the  hedges  for  his  filbert  food, 
Sits  partly  on  a  bough  his  brown  nuts  cracking, 
And  from  the  shell  the  sweet  white  kernel  taking. 
Till,  with  their  crooks  and  bags,  a  sort  of  boys. 
To  share  with  him,  come  with  so  great  a  noise, 
That  he  is  forced  to  leave  a  nut  nigh  broke, 
And  for  his  liff  leup  tu  a  iKi;;hbor  oak  ; 
T1hii>' ■  !■■  .1  I" ' '  ii,  tiH  I!'  ■   ;    .1  v'vi  of  ashes  ; 
A^llll  '  i!]    :i       :ii     I    <  .irjil  red  water  plashes 

'rii.   '     .     I I       _  :    ii;;h  thick  and  thin ; 

Tliis,  turn  and  tattered,  halli  with  much  ado 
Got  by  the  briers  ;  and  that  hath  lost  his  shoo  ; 
This  drops  his  band  ;  that  headlong  falls  for  hasto  ; 
Another  cries  behind  for  being  last : 
With  sticks  and  stones  and  many  a  sounding  hollow, 
Tho  littlo  fool  with  no  small  sport  they  follow  ; 
Whilst  he,  from  tree  to  tree,  from  spray  to  spray. 
Gets  to  the  wood,  and  hides  him  in  his  dray.  »  * 


And  as  a  lonely  maiden,  pure  and  chaste. 
With  naked,  ivory  neck,  and  gown  nnlaced. 
Within  her  chainl.rr,  -n-hr,,  tlu  -l:iv  i  ^  flr.l, 
Makes  poor  In  i  _  .i  n,     ■  1^1  : 

First  puts  sill-  i.it  Im'i   1:1 '.     '.i    I      •  .■>  I. 
That  shrieks  l-r  .n,i,,n  ,,    J,,    i,,i-  n  .1  ,,im  ; 
And  with  her  anus  grac-rtli  a  waisti-oat  line, 
Embracing  her  as  it  would  ne'er  untwine. 
Her  flaxen  hair  ensnaring  all  beholders. 
She  next  permits  to  wave  about  her  shoulders, 
And  though  she  oast  it  back,  the  silken  slips 
Still  forward  steal,  and  hang  upon  her  lips  ; 
Whereat  she,  sweetly  angry,  with  her  laces 
Binds  up  the  wanton  locks  in  curious  traces,    [gcrs. 
Whilst  twisting  with  her  joints  each  hair  long  lin- 
As  loath  to  bo  enchained  but  with  her  fingers. 
Then  on  her  heail  a  dressing  like  a  crown  ; 
Her  breasts  all  bare,  her  kirtlc  slipping  down, 
And  all  things  off  (which  rightly  ever  bo 
Called  the  foul-fair  marks  of  our  misery) 
Except  her  last,  which  enviously  doth  seize  hor. 
Lest  any  eye  partake  with  it  in  pleasure. 
Prepares  for  sweetest  rest,  while  sylvans  greet  her. 
And  longingly  tho  down  bed  swells  to  meet  hor. 
So  by  degrees  his  shape,  all  brutish  wild. 
Fell  from  him,  as  loose  skin  fVom  some  young  ohild; 
In  lieu  whereof  a  man-liko  shape  appears. 
And  gallant  youth  soaroo  skilled  in  twenty  years. 
So  fair,  so  fresh,  so  young,  so  admirable 
In  every  part,  that  sinoe  I  am  not  ablo 


314 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  W.    BROWNE. 


In  words  to  show  his  picture,  gentle  swains 
Recall  the  praises  in  my  former  strains, 
And  know  if  they  have  graced  any  limb, 
I  only  lent  it  those,  but  stole  't  from  him. 


Thrice  sacred  powers  !  (if  sacred  powers  there  be 
AYhose  mild  aspect  engarland  poesy) 

Yc  liappr  >i-trr.^  of  the  learned  spring, 

Whu.^c  111  ;[\i  Illy  n.'li  -  the  woods  are  ravishing  ! 

Brav<-  i  ii'    pi, Ml  TiLii'lriis.  at  whose  charming  lays 

Each  ML.i^-iliiiuiilHii   lUDuntain  bends,  each  current 

Pierian  fingeis  !  0,  ye  blessed  muses  !  [plays  ! 

Who  as  a  gem  too  dear  the  world  refuses  ! 

Whose  truest  lovers  never  clip  with  age, 

0,  bo  pi-upitliMis  in  my  i-ll-rirna-c  ! 

Dwfll  (Ml  my  liiir.  '   ,111, 1  ml  iIm.  last  sand  fall, 

Run  li;n,ii  in  IduhI  \\  nii  my  wuk  pastoral  ! 

Cause  t'vm-y  miipliii^  radcni-"'  tl<i\v  iu  bUsses, 

And  fill  the  world  with  envy  uf  such  kisses. 

Make  all  the  rarest  beauties  of  our  clime, 

That  deign  a  sweet  look  on  my  younger  rhyme, 

To  linger  on  each  line's  enticing  graces 

As  on  their  lover's  lips  and  chaste  embraces  !    *    * 


But  here  I  must  digress,  yet  pardon,  swains  ; 
For  as  a  maiden  gathering  on  the  plains 
A  scentful  nosegay  to  set  near  her  pap. 
Or  as  a  favor  for  her  shepherd's  cap, 
Is  seen  far  off  to  stray,  if  she  have  spied 
A  flower  that  might  increase  her  posy's  pride  ; 
So  if  to  wander  I  am  sometimes  pressed, 
'T  is  for  a  strain  that  might  adorn  the  rest. 

Requests  that  with  denial  could  not  meet 
Flew  to  our  shepherd,  and  the  voices  sweet 
Of  fairest  nymphs  entreating  him  to  say 
What  wight  he  loved  ;  he  thus  began  his  lay  : 


Shall  I  tell  you  whom  I  love  ? 

Hearken  then  a  while  to  me  ; 

And  if  such  a  woman  move 

As  I  now  shall  versify  ; 

Be  assured  't  is  she,  or  none, 

That  I  love  and  love  alone. 

Nature  did  her  so  much  right, 

As  she  scorns  the  help  of  art, 

In  as  many  virtues  dight 

As  e'er  yet  embraced  a  heart. 

,So  much  good  so  truly  tried, 

Some  for  less  were  deified. 

Wit  she  hath  without  desire 

To  make  known  how  much  she  hath  ; 
And  her  anger  flames  no  higher 

Than  may  fitly  sweeten  wrath. 
Full  of  pity  as  may  bo. 
Though,  perhaps,  not  so  to  me. 


Reason  masters  every  sense, 

And  her  virtues  grace  her  birth  ; 
Lovely  as  all  excellence. 

Modest  in'  her  most  of  mirth  : 
Likelihood  enough  to  prove 
Only  worth  could  kindle  love. 
Such  she  is  :  and  if  you  know 

Such  a  one  as  I  have  sung  ; 
Be  she  brown,  or  fair,  or  so 

That  she  be  but  somewhile  young  ; 
Be  assured  't  is  she,  or  none. 
That  I  love,  and  love  alone.     *     * 


The  gentle  shepherd,  hastening  to  the  shore, 
Began  this  lay,  and  timed  it  witti  his  oar  : 

Nevermore  let  holy  Dee 

O'er  other  rivers  brave. 
Or  boast  how,  in  his  jollity. 

Kings  rode  upon  his  wave. 
But  silent  be,  and  ever  know 
That  Neptune  for  my  fare  would  row. 
Those  were  captives.     If  he  say 

That  now  I  am  no  other. 
Yet  she  that  bears  my  prison's  key 

Is  fairer  than  love's  mother  ; 
A  god  took  me,  those  one  less  high, 
They  wore  their  bonds,  so  do  not  I. 
Swell,  then,  gently  swell,  ye  floods, 

As  proud  of  what  ye  bear, 
And  nymphs  that  in  low  coral  woods 

String  pearls  upon  your  hair. 
Ascend  ;  and  tell  if  ere  this  day 
A  fairer  prize  was  seen  at  sea. 
See  the  salmons  leap  and  bound 

To  please  us  as  we  pass. 
Each  mermaid  on  the  rocks  around 

Lets  fall  her  brittle  glass  : 
As  they  their  beauties  did  despise. 
And  loved  no  mirror  but  your  eyes. 
Blow,  but  gently  blow,  fair  wind. 

From  the  forsaken  shore. 
And  be  as  to  the  halcyon  kind. 

Till  we  have  ferried  o'er  : 
So  may'st  thou  still  have  leave  to  blow, 
And  fan  the  way  where  she  shall  go. 
Floods,  and  nymphs,  and  winds,  and  all 

That  see  us  both  together. 
Into  a  disputation  fall ; 

And  then  resolve  me,  whether 

The  greatest  kindness  each  can  show, 

Will  quit  our  trust  of  you  or  no  ? 

Thus  as  a  merry  milk-maid,  neat  and  fine, 

Returning  late  from  milking  of  her  kine. 

Shortens  the  dew'd  way  which  she  treads  along 

With  some  self-pleasing,  since  new-gotten  song, 

The  shepherd  did  their  passage  well  beguile.     * 


Crash's   "|)arisb   |lcf(istcr. 


ISTRODccilos.  The  'VillaKe  Bcfjister  considered,  as  contain-  [ 
tag  principally  the  Annals  or  the  Poor.  State  of  the  peas- 
antry as  iiR-liuiMl,'(l  hy  rni;;;ility  lliul  induslry.     Tlie  Cot- 


PORTBAITS.  The  child  of  the  miller's  daughter,  and  relation 
of  her  misfortune.  A  fruiral  couple  :  their  liind  of  frugal- 
ity. Plea  of  the  mnther  of  a  nntiirnt  child  ■  her  churching. 
Larpe  family  of  Gerard  Al)litt  ■   lii^  :i(.iircti.-ii.;iiiii'* :  com- 


INTROD0CTION. 
TUB  SCBJECT  STATKD  ',  AN'.NALS  OP  THE  PARISH. 

The  year  revolves,  and  I  again  explore 
The  simple  annals  of  my  parish  poor  ; 
What  infant  members,  in  my  flock,  appear  ; 
What  pairs  I  blest,  in  the  departed  year  ; 
And  who,  of  old  or  young,  of  nymphs  or  swains, 
Are  lost  to  life,  its  pleasures  and  its  pains. 

No  muse  I  ask,  before  my  view  to  bring 
The  humble  actions  of  the  swains  I  sing.  — 
How  passed  the  youthful,  how  the  old  their  days. 
Who  sank  in  sloth,  and  wli..  :i-).ii.>i  ti^  [-lai-e  ; 
Their  tempers,  manners,  m  >i  li     m  i    [u  ,  ;nts. 
What  parts  they  had,  aiiii  hn  in   i     ini  l-i .:.!  their 
By  what  elated,  soothed,  seduce  d,  iln>tc^ocd,  [parts; 
Full  well  I  know  —  these  records  give  the  rest. 

so  RURAL  PABADISB    EXISTS. 

Is  there  a  place,  save  one  the  poet  sees, 
A  land  of  love,  of  liberty,  and  case  ; 
Where  labor  wearies  not,  nor  cares  suppress 
Th'  eternal  flow  of  rustic  happiness  ; 
Where  no  proud  mansion  frowns  in  awful  state. 
Or  keeps  the  sunshine  from  the  oottagc-gato  ; 
Whore  young  and  old,  intent  on  pleasure,  throng. 
And  half  man's  life  is  holiday  and  song  ? 
Vain  search  for  scenes  like  those  !  no  view  appears. 
By  sighs  unruffled  or  unstained  by  tears  ; 
Since  Vice  the  world  subdued,  and  waters  drowned, 
Auburn  and  Edeti  can  no  more  be  found. 


Hence  good  and  evil  mixed,  but  man  has  skill 


And  power  to  part  them,  when  ho  feels  the  will  ; 
Toil,  care,  and  patience,  bless  th'  abstemious  few  ; 
Fear,  shame,  and  want,  the  thoughtless  herd  pursue. 
Behold    the  cot  !    where  thrives  th'  industrious 
j  swain, 

Source  of  his  pride,  his  pleasure,  and  his  gain  ; 
Screened  from  the  winter's  wind,  the  sun's  last  ray 
Smiles  on  the  window  and  prolongs  the  day  ; 
Projecting  thatch  the  woodbine's  branches  stop, 

And  turn  their  blossoms  to  the  casement's  top  : 

All  need  requires  is  in  that  cot  contained. 

And  much  that  taste  untaught  and  unrestrained 

Surveys  delighted  ;   there  she  loves  to  traco 

In  one  gay  picture  all  the  royal  race  ; 

At. nihil  tlif  walls  aro  heroes,  lovers,  kings  ; 

I       i     ml  ihat  shows  them,  and  the  verse  that  sings. 


Above  the  mantel,  bound  with  riband  blue. 
The  swain's  emblazoned  Arms  demand  our  view. 

In  meadow  vert,  there  feeds  in  i/ulrji  a  cow. 
Beneath  an  argent  share  and  sablf  jilough  ; 
While  for  a  crest  an  azure  arm  sustains 
In  or  a  wheat-shcaf,  rieli  with  bristling  grains. 

There  is  Km-  i  i,.,,  I,  .,  ;,,.■!  ;ill  his  Golden  Rules, 
Whoprovnl  Mil, I  Ml.      I' :i- the  best  of  schools  ; 

And  there  III ,  i,  :,in  ti  nil  by  years  of  pain, 

Whoprovml  nil  I   II -  iiiiv  lie  sent  in  vain. 

The  magir-iM'il  'nii  -n.i    i  In  ■  j^rau'nains  young. 
Close  at  III-      li  i  '.    Ina  hung  ; 

She,  of  h.i  In, .nil    ill..    III,.  |,rideandjoy. 
Of  charms  at  once  in.i>t  lavish  and  most  coy  ; 
By  wanton  act  the  purest  fame  could  raise. 
And  give  the  boldest  deed  the  chastest  praise. 

There  stands  the  stoutest  ox  that  England  fed  ; 
There  fights  the  boldest  Jew,  Whitcohapel  bred  ; 
And  hero  Saint  Monday's  worthy  votaries  live, 
In  all  the  joys  that  ale  and  skittles  give. 

Now,  lo  !  on  Egypt's  coast,  that  hostile  fleet, 
That  nations  dreaded  and  that  Nelson  beat ; 
And  hero  will  soon  that  other  fleet  be  shown. 
That  Nelson  made  the  ocean's  and  our  own. 
Distressing  glory  !  grievous  boon  of  fate  ! 
The  proudest  conquest,  at  the  dearest  rate. 

BOOKS  OF  THE  LABORER'S  COT. 

On  shelf  of  deal  beside  the  euekoo-olock 
Of  cottage-reading  rests  the  chosen  stock  ; 
Learning  we  lack,  not  books,  but  have  a  kind 
For  all  our  wants,  a  meat  for  every  mind  : 
The  tale  for  wonder,  and  the  joke  for  whim, 
The  half-sung  sermon,  and  the  half-groanod  hymn. 


316 


RURAL    POETRY.  • 


No  need  of  classing  ;  each  within  its  place 
The  feeling  finger  in  the  ilark  can  trace  ; 
'  First  from  the  corner,  furthest  from  the  wall,' 
Such  all  the  rules,  and  they  sufBoe  for  all. 

BIBLE    COMMENTATORS   SATIRIZED. 

There  pious  works  for  Sunday's  use  are  found, 
Companions  for  that  Bible  newly  bound  ; 
That  Bible,  bought  by  si.\penoe  weekly  saved. 
Has  choicest  prints  by  famous  hands  engraved  ; 
Has  choicest  notes  by  famous  heads  made  out. 
That  teach  the  simple  reader  where  to  doubt  ; 
That  make  him  stop  to  reason  whi/  'I  and  how  ? 
And  where  he  wondered  then,  to  cavil  now. 
0  !  rather  give  me  commentators  plain. 
Who  with  no  deep  researches  vex  the  brain  ; 
Who  from  the  dark  and  doubtful  love  to  run, 
And  hold  their  glimmering  tapers  to  the  sun  ; 
Who  simple  truth  with  nine-fold  reasons  back. 
And  guard  the  point  no  enemies  attack. 


Bunyan's  famed  pilgrim  rests  that  shelf  upon  j 
A  genius  rare  but  rude  was  honest  John  ; 
Not  one  who,  early  by  the  Muse  beguiled. 
Drank  from  her  well  the  waters  undefiled  ; 
Not  one  who  slowly  gained  the  hill  sublime, 
Then  often  sipped,  and  little  at  a  time  ; 
But  one  who  dabbled  in  the  sacred  springs, 
And  drank  them  muddy,  mixed  with  baser  things. 

Here  to  interpret  dreams  we  read  the  rules, 
Science  our  own  !  and  never  taught  in  schools  ; 
In  moles  and  specks  we  Fortune's  gifts  discern. 
And  Fate's  fixt  will  from  Nature's  wanderings  learn. 

Of  hermit  Quarle  we  read  in  island  rare, 
Far  from  mankind  and  seeming  far  from  care  ; 
Safe  from  all  want  and  sound  in  every  limb. 
Yes  !    there  was  he,  and  there  was  care  with  him. 

Unbound  and  heaped  these  valued  works  beside, 
Laid  humbler  works,  the  pedler's  pack  supplied  ; 
Yet  these,  long  since,  have  all  acquired  a  name  ; 
The  Wandering  Jew  has  found  his  way  to  fame  ; 
And  fame,  denied  to  many  a  labored  song,  [strong. 
Crowns   Thumb   the   great,    and   Hickerthrift    the 

There  too  is  he,  by  wizard-power  upheld. 
Jack,  by  whose  arm  the  giant-brood  were  quelled  ; 
His  shoes  of  swiftness  on  his  feet  he  placed  ; 
His  coat  of  darkness  on  his  loins  he  braced  : 
His  sword  of  sharpness  in  his  hand  he  took, 
And  off  the  heads  of  doughty  giants  stroke  ; 
Their  glaring  eyes  beheld  no  mortal  near  ; 
No  sound  of  feet  alarmed  the  drowsy  ear  ; 
No  English  blood  their  Pagan  sense  could  smell, 
But  heads  dropt  headlong,  wondering  why  they  fell. 

These  hear  the  parent  swain,  reclined  at  ease. 
With  half  his  listening  offspring  on  his  knees. 

THE     cotter's     gardes  \    CIVES  |    LEEKS  ;     PDLSE  ;    HERBS  i 
APPLES;   CHERRIES-,    NUTS.— FLOWER  PATCH. 

To  every  oot  the  lord's  indulgent  mind 


!  The  careful  peasant  plies  the  sinewy  arm  : 
Warmed  as  he  works?,  and  casts  his  look  around 
On  every  foot  of  that  improving  ground  ; 
It  is  his  own  he  sees  ;  his  master's  eye 
Peers  not  about,  some  secret  fault  to  spy  ; 
Nor  voice  severe  is  there,  nor  censure  known  ;  — 
Hope,  profit,  pleasure,  —  they  are  all  his  own. 
Here  grow  the  humble  cives,  and  hard  by  them. 
The  tall  leek,  tapering  with  his  rushy  stem  ; 
High  climb  bis  pulse  in  many  an  even  row, 
Deep  strike  the  ponderous  roots  in  soil  below, 
And  herbs  of  potent  smell  and  pungent  taste 
Give  a  warm  relish  to  the  night's  I'epast. 
Apples  and  cherries  grafted  by  his  hand, 
And  clustered  nuts,  for  neighboring  market  stand. 

Nor  thus  concludes  his  labor  ;  near  the  cot. 
The  reed-fence  rises  round  some  favorite  spot  ; 
Where  rich  carnations,  pinks  with  purple  eyes. 
Proud  hyacinths,  the  least  some  florist's  prize. 
Tulips  tall-stemmed,  and  pounced  auriculas,  rise. 


Here  on  a  Sunday  eve,  when  service  ends. 
Meet  and  rejoice  a  family  of  friends  ; 
All  speak  aloud,  are  happy,  and  are  free. 
And  glad  they  seem,  and  gayly  they  agree. 

What,  though  fastidious  ears  may  shun  the  speech, 
Where  all  are  talkers,  and  where  none  can  teach  ; 
Where  still  the  welcome  and  the  words  are  old. 
And  the  same  stories  are  forever  told  ; 
Yet  theirs  is  joy  that,  bursting  from  the  heart. 
Prompts  the  glad  tongue  these  nothings  to  impart ; 
That  forms  these  tones  of  gladness  we  despise. 
That  lifts  their  steps,  that  sparkles  in  their  eyes  ; 
That  talks,  or  laughs,  or  runs,  or  shouts,  or  plays, 
And  speaks  in  all  their  looks  and  all  their  ways. 


Fair  scenes  of  peace  !  ye  might  detain  us  long. 
But  Vice  and  Misery  now  demand  the  song  ; 
And  turn  our  view  from  dwellings  simply  neat, 
To  this  infected  row,  we  term  our  Street. 

Here,  in  cabal,  a  disputatious  crew 
Each  evening  meet  ;  the  sot,  the  cheat,  the  shrew  ; 
Riots  are  nightly  heard,  the  curse,  the  cries 
Of  beaten  wife,  perverse  in  her  replies  ;  [hand. 

While   shrieking  children   hold   each   threatening 
And  sometimes  life  and  sometimes  food  demand  : 
Boys  in  their  first  stol'n  rags  to  swear  begin. 
And  girls,  who  knew  not  sex,  are  skilled  in  gin  : 
Snarers  and  smugglers  here  their  gains  divide. 
Ensnaring  females  here  their  victims  hide  ; 
j  And  here  is  one,  the  sibyl  of  the  row, 
[  Who  knows  all  secrets,  or  affects  to  know  ; 
Seeking  their  fate,  to  her  the  simple  run  j 
To  her  the  guilty,  theirs  a  while  to  shun  ; 
'  Mistress  of  worthless  arts,  depraved  in  will, 
I  Her  care  unblest,  and  unrepaid  her  skill, 


AUTUMN  —  SEPTEMBER. 


817 


Slave  to  tho  tribe,  to  whose  command  she  stoops, 
And  poorer  than  the  poorest  maid  she  dupes. 

FILTH  AND  WRIiTCniniNISS  iBOCT  THE  '  BOW.'—  DOOS  ", 
VICIOUS    DOYS. 

Between  the  road-way  and  the  walls,  otfenoe 
Invades  all  eyes  ond  strikes  on  every  sense  ; 
There  lie,  obscene,  at  every  open  door. 
Heaps  from  the  hearth  and  sweepings  from  the  floor; 
And  day  by  day  tho  mingled  masses  grow. 
As  sinks  are  disembogued  and  gutters  flow. 

There  hungry  dogs  from  hungry  children  steal. 
There  pigs  and  chickens  quarrel  for  a  meal  ; 
There  dropsied  infants  wail  without  redress. 
And  all  is  want,  and  woe,  and  wretchedness  : 
Yet  should  those  boys,  with  bodies  bronzed  and  bare, 
High-swol'n  and  hard,  outlive  that  lack  of  care  — 
Forced  on  some  farm  the  uncxortcd  strength. 
Though  loth,  to  action  is  compelled  at  length. 
When  warmed  by  health,  as  serpents  in  the  Spring, 
Aside  their  slough  of  indolence  they  fling. 


I  Pistols  are  bore,  unpaired  ;  with  nets  and  hooks, 
I  Of  every  kind,  for  rivers,  ponds,  and  brooks  ; 
An  ample  flask,  that  nightly  rovors  fill. 
With  recent  poison  from  the  Dutchman's  still  ; 
A  box  of  tools  with  wires  of  various  sine, 
Frocks,  wigs,  and  hata,  for  night  or  day  disguise, 
And  bludgeons  stout  to  gain  or  guard  a  prize. 

inK  NEGLECTED  PATCH.  — iDODES  OF  VIC1003  POVEBTY. 

To  every  house  belongs  a  space  of  ground. 
Of  equal  size,  once  fenced  with  paling  round  ; 
That  paling  now  by  slothful  waste  destroyed, 
Dead  gorso  and  stumps  of  elder  fill  the  void  ; 
Save  in  the  centre-spot,  whose  walls  of  clay 
Hide  sots  and  striplings  at  their  drink  and  play  ; 
Within,  a  board,  beneath  a  tiled  retreat, 
Allures  tho  bubble  and  maintains  tho  cheat ; 
Where  heavy  ale  in  spots  like  varnish  shows, 
Where  chalky  tallies  yet  romain  in  row^i  ; 
Black  pipes  and  br.ik'   I  ■         '  'Mile, 

The  walls  and  wind,  i «  i ,  i  ngs  vile ; 

Prints  of  the  meam-i  i  '  """i 

And  cards,  in  curses  t   - :  "  the  floor. 


Yet  ere  they  go,  a  greater  evil  comes  — 
See  crowded  beds  in  those  contiguous  rooms  ; 
Beds  but  ill  parted,  by  a  paltry  screen. 
Of  papered  lath  or  curtain,  dropped  between  ; 
Daughters  and  sons  to  yon  compartments  creep, 
And  parents  hero  beside  their  children  sleep  ; 
Y'e  who  have  ]...«■...,  ili. ->■  np.i,_.l,fl. -^  i-.].!.-  part. 
Nor  let  the  car  1 

Come!  search  v.r     ..   ■  i       ,    I  i.^'ard; 

The  true  phy3ii'i;iii  «,i!l,-  iln    rul.  -i  \\.ii.|. 
See  !  on  the  floor,  what  frowzy  patches  re.t ! 
What  nauseous  fragments  on  yon  fractured  chest ! 
What  downy-<lust  beneath  yon  window-seat ! 
And  round  these  posts  that  serve  this  bed  for  feet ; 
This  bed  where  all  those  tattered  garments  lie. 
Worn  by  each  sex,  and  now  perforce  thrown  by. 


OP  THE   MISERY 

See  !  as  we  gaze,  an  infant  lifts  its  head, 
Left  by  neglect  and  burrowed  in  that  bed  ; 
The  mother-gossip  has  tho  lovo  supprest. 
An  infant's  cry  one«  wakened  in  her  breast  j 
And  il;i!lv  prnttin;  n.i  her  round  she  takes 
(With  -ii"Li^  ir  , mill,  i.t)  of  the  want  she  makes. 

Wlnu'  ■   ill  '!"■  r  v\  T^?  —  from  want  of  virtuous 
Ofhoi»-i    Ikimi' .  . it  tiuie-iiuproving  skill  ;       [will, 
From  want  of  care,  to  employ  the  vacant  hour. 
And  want  of  every  kind,  but  want  of  power. 

so    IMPUEMKSTS    OF   IXDCSIBT  i     .VOK    BOOKS,    BIT    SOSCS  ; 
LIQCOR,  DISOCISES,  CARDS,  PICK-LOCKS,  BLCDOKOSS,  ETC. 

Hero  are  no  wheels  for  either  wool  or  flox, 
But  packs  of  cards  made  up  of  sundry  packs  ; 
Here  is  no  clock,  nor  will  they  turn  the  glass, 
And  see  how  swift  th'  important  moments  pass  ; 
There  are  no  books,  but  ballads  on  tho  wall. 
Are  some  abusive,  and  indecent  all  ; 


Here  his  poor  bird  th'  inhuman  cocker  brings. 
Arms  his  hard  heel,  and  clips  his  golden  wings  ; 
With  spicy  food  the  impatient  spirit  feeds. 
And  shouts  and  curses  as  the  battle  bleeds  : 
Struck  through  the  brain,  deprived  of  both  his  eyes, 
Tho  vanquished  bird  must  combat  till  he  dies  ; 
Must  faintly  peck  at  his  victorious  foe. 
And  reel  and  stagger  at  each  feeble  blow  ; 
When  fallen,  tho  savage  grasps  his  dabbled  plumes. 
His  blood-stained  arms,  for  other  deaths  assumes  ; 
And  damns  the  craven-fowl,  that  lost  his  stoke. 
And  only  bled  and  perished  for  his  sake. 

PEASANTS ;  PAUPERS )   FARMERS. 

Such  are  our  peasants,  those  to  whom  we  yield 
Glories  unsought,  the  fathers  of  the  field  ; 
And  these  who  take  from  our  reluctant  bands 
What  Burn  advises  or  tho  bench  commands. 

Our  farmers  round,well-plcased  with  constant  gain, 
Like  other  farmers,  flourish  and  complain. — 
These  arc  our  groups,  our  portraits  next  appear, 
I  And  close  our  exhibition  for  tho  year. 


Turn  porro  puer  (ut  sicvia  projectus  ab  uniiis, 
Niiviw)  mirtus  huml  jacet  infans  indlgus  omnl 

Vitali  iiuxilio, 

Vftfrituque  locum  lugubri  complet,  ut  roquum  ( 


Lucretius,  de  Nat.  Rcrum,  lib. 

THE  MILLER'S  DAOOnTRR  ;   A  TALE  OF  SIX  AND  SOR« 

With  evil  omen,  we  that  year  begin  : 
A  child  of  shame  —  stern  .lustice  adds,  of  sin- 
Is  first  recorded  ;  —  I  would  hide  the  deed, 
But  vain  tho  wish  ;  I  sigh,  and  I  proceed  : 


318 


RURAL    POETRY. CRABBE. 


And  could  I  well  the  instructive  truth  convey, 
'T  would  warn  the  giddy  and  awake  the  gay. 

Of  all  the  nymphs,  who  gave  our  village  grace, 
The  miller's  daughter  had  the  fairest  face. 
Proud  was  the  miller  ;  money  was  his  pride  ; 
He  rode  to  market,  as  our  farmers  ride  ; 
And  't  was  his  boast,  inspired  by  spirits,  there, 
His  favorite  Lucy  should  be  rich  as  fair  ; 
But  she  must  meek  and  still  obedient  prove, 
And  not  presume,  without  his  leave,  to  love. 


A  youthful  sailor  heard  him  ;  — '  Ha  ! '  quoth  he, 
'  This  miller's  maiden  is  a  prize  for  me  ; 
His  charms  I  love,  his  riches  I  desire. 
And  all  his  threats  but  fan  the  kindling  fire  ; 
My  ebbing  purse  no  more  the  foe  shall  fill. 
But  love's  kind  act  and  Lucy  at  the  mill.' 

Thus  thought  the  youth,  and  soon  the  chase  began, 
Stretched  all  his  sail,  nor  thought  uf  pause  or  plan  : 
His  trusty  staff  in  his  bold  hand  he  took, 
Like  him,  and  like  his  frigate,  Heart  of  Oak  ; 
Fresh  were  his  features,  his  attire  was  new  ; 
Clean  was  his  linen,  and  his  jacket  blue  ; 
Of  finest  jean  his  trousers  tight  and  trim. 
Brushed  the  large  buckle,  at  the  silver  rim. 


He  soon  arrived,  he  traced  the  village-green. 
There  saw  the  maid,  and  was  with  pleasure  seen  ; 
Then  talked  of  love,  till  Lucy's  yielding  heart 
Confessed  "t  was  painful,  though  't  was  right,  to  part. 

'For  ah  !  my  father  has  an  haughty  soul  ; 
Whom  best  he  loves,  he  loves  but  to  control  ; 
Me  to  some  churl  in  bargain  he  '11  consign, 
And  make  some  tyrant  of  the  parish  mine  ; 
Cold  is  his  heart,  and  he,  with  looks  severe. 
Has  often  forced,  but  seldom  shed  the  tear  ; 
Save  when  my  mother  died,  some  drops  expressed 
A  kind  of  sorrow  for  a  wife  at  rest :  — 
To  me  a  master's  stern  regard  is  shown, 
I  'm  like  his  steed,  prized  highly  as  his  own  ; 
Stroked  but  corrected,  threatened  when  supplied. 
His  slave  and  boast,  his  victim  .and  his  pride.' 

'  Cheer  up,  my  lass  ;  I  '11  to  thy  father  go. 
The  miller  cannot  be  the  sailor's  foe  ; 
Both  live  by  heaven's  free  gale  that  plays  aloud 
In  the  stretched  canvas  and  the  Jiiping  shroud  ; 
The  rush  of  winds,  the  flapping  sails  above. 
And  rattling  planks  within,  are  sounds  we  love  ; 
Calms  are  our  dread  ;   when  tempests  plough  the 
Wo  take  a  reef,  and  to  the  rocking  sleep.'       [deep, 

THE  MrLLEn's  ANSWER  TO  THE  SAILOR'S  SflT. 

■Ha  ! '  quo-th  the  miller,  moved  at  speech  so  rash, 
'  Art  thou  like  me  ?  Then  where  thy  notes  and  cash  ? 
Away  to  Wapping,  and  a  wife  command. 
With  all  thy  wealth,  a  guinea,  in  thine  hand  ; 
There  with  thy  messmates  quaff  the  muddy  cheer, 
And  leave  my  Lucy  for  thy  betters  here.' 


THE  SAILOR'S  REVENGE. - 

'  Revenge  !  revenge  ! '  the  angry  lover  cried. 
Then  sought  the  nymph,  and  'Be  thou  now  my 

bride.' 
Bride  had  she  been,  but  they  no  priest  could  move 
To  bind  in  law  the  couple  bound  by  love. 

What  then  was  left,  these  lovers  to  requite  ? 
But  stolen  moments  of  disturbed  delight  ; 
Soft  trembling  tumults,  terrors  dearly  prized. 
Transports  that  pained,  and  joys  that  agonized  : 
Till  the  fond  damsel,  pleased  with  lad  so  trim. 
Awed  by  her  parent  and  enticed  by  him  ; 
Her  lovely  form  from  savage  power  to  save, 
Gave  —  not  her  hand  —  but  all  she  could  she  gave. 

Then  came  the  days  of  shame,  the  grievous  night, 
The  varying  look,  the  wandering  appetite  ; 
The  joy  assumed,  while  sorrow  dimmed  the  eyes, 
The  forced  sad  smiles  that  followed  sudden  sighs. 
And  every  art,  long  used,  but  used  in  vain. 
To  hide  thy  progress.  Nature,  and  thy  pain. 

Too  eager  caution  shows  some  danger  's  near. 
The  bully's  bluster  proves  the  coward's  fear  ; 
His  sober  step  the  drunkard  vainly  tries. 
And  nymphs  e.xpose  the  failings  they  disguise. 

First,  whispering  gossips  were  in  parties  seen  ; 
Then  louder  scandal  walked  the  village-green  ; 
Next  babbling  folly  told  the  growing  ill. 
And  busy  malice  dropt  it  at  the  mill. 


'  Go  !  to  thy  curse  and  mine,'  the  father  said, 
'  Strife  and  confusion  stalk  around  thy  bed  ; 
Want  and  a  wailing  brat  thy  portion  be. 
Plague  to  thy  fondness  as  thy  fault  to  me, 

Where  skulks  the  villain?' 

'  On  the  ocean  wide, 

My  William  seeks  a  portion  for  his  bride.' 

'Vain  be  his  search  !  but  till  the  traitor  come, 
The  Higler's  cottage  be  thy  future  home  ; 
There  with  his  ancient  shrew  and  Care  abide. 
And  hide  thy  head,  thy  shame  thou  canst  not  hide.' 

LDCY  A   MOTHER,  BUT  NOT  A  WIFE.  —  WILLIAM  DIES  AT  SEA. 

Day  after  day  were  past  in  grief  and  pain, 
Week  after  week,  nor  came  the  youth  again  ; 
Her  boy  was  born  —  no  lads  nor  lasses  came 
To  grace  the  rite  or  give  the  child  a  name  ; 
Nor  grave  conceited  nurse,  of  office  proud,   [crowd: 
Bore    the   young  Christian,  roaring,    through   the 
In  a  small  chamber  was  my  office  done. 
Where  blinks  thro'  papered  panes  the  setting  sun  ; 
Where  noisy  sparrows,  perched  on  pent-house  near, 
Chirp  tuneless  joy  and  mock  the  frequent  tear  ; 
Bats  on  their  wcbby  wings  in  darkness  move, 
And  feebly  shriek  tlieir  melancholy  love. 

No  SEiilpr  came  ;  the  months  in  terror  fled  ! 
Then  news  arrived  ;   ho  fought,  and  he  was  dead. 


At  the  lone  cottage  Lucy  lives,  and  still 
Walks,  for  her  weekly  pittance,  to  the  mill  : 


AUTUMN  —  SEPTEMBBR. 


319 


A  moan  sornglio  there  her  father  keeps, 
Whoso  mirth  insults  her,  as  she  stands  and  weeps  ; 
And  socs  tho  plenty,  while  conipollod  to  stay. 
Her  father's  pride  become  his  harlots'  prey. 

Throughout  the  lanes  she  glides  at  evening's  oloso, 
There  softly  lulls  her  infant  to  repose  ; 
Then  sits  and  gazes,  but  with  viewless  look, 
As  gilds  the  moon  the  rimpling  of  tho  brook  ; 
Theu  sings  her  vcspors,  but  in  voice  so  low, 
She  hears  their  murmurs  as  tho  waters  flow  ; 
And  she,  too,  munnurs,  and  begins  to  find 
The  solemn  wanderings  of  a  wounded  mind  ; 
Visions  of  terror  views  of  woo  succeed, 
The  mind's  impatience  to  the  body's  need  ; 
By  turns  to  that,  by  turns  to  this  a  prey. 
She  knows  what  reason  yields,  and  dreads  what 
madness  may. 


Has  in  a  diBcrent  mode  a  sovereign  away  : 
As  tides  the  same  attractive  influence  know 
In  the  least  ebb  and  in  their  proudest  flow  ; 
The  wise  frugality  that  does  not  give 
A  life  to  saving,  but  that  saves  to  live. 
Sparing  not  pinching,  mindful  though  not  m 
O'er  all  presiding,  yet  in  nothing  seen. 


ANOTUER   BAPTISM.- 


,  CHILD  OP  X  PHOSTITITB. 


ASOTBER    BAPTISM  ; 


FRUGAL,  COMUONFLACB,  CONTENTED 


Noxt«i.l.  . 

II  1.  1  .1  Jvccnt  couple  came. 

And.'iill.  1 

t  was  his  father's  name 

ThrCL-;;:::      , 

;    i     ,  1  ly  time  endeared, 

And  lilt uu  l-.a 

li.-.  wiiu  neither  hoped  nor  feared 

Blest  in  each  other,  but  to  no  excess  ; 
Health,  quiet,  comfort,  formed  their  happiness  ; 
Love,  all  made  up  of  torture  and  delight, 
Was  but  more  madness  in  this  couple's  sight  ; 
Susan  could  think,  though  not  without  a  sigh. 
If  she  were  gone,  who  should  her  place  supply  ; 
And  Robert,  half  in  earnest,  half  in  jest. 
Talk  of  her  spouse  when  ho  should  be  at  rest  ; 
Yet  strange  would  cither  think  it  to  be  told, 
Tlieir  love  was  cooling  or  their  hearts  were  cold  ; 
Few  wore  their  acres,  —  but  thoy,  well  content. 
Were,  on  each  pay-day,  ready  with  their  rent ; 
And  few  their  wishes  —  what  their  farm  denied. 
The  neighboring  town  at  trifling  cost  supplied  ; 
If  at  the  draper's  window  Susan  cast 
A  longing  look,  as  with  her  goods  she  passed  ; 
And  with  the  produce  of  the  wheel  and  churn 
Bought  her  a  Sunday  robe  on  her  return  ; 
True  to  her  maxim,  she  would  take  no  rest, 
Till  care  repaid  that  portion  to  the  chest : 
Or  if,  when  loitering  at  tho  Whitsun-fair, 
Her  Hubert  spent  some  idle  shillings  there  ; 
Up  at  the  barn,  before  the  break  of  day. 
He  made  his  labor  for  th'  indulgence  pay  ; 
Thus  bo^h  —  that  wiste  itself  might  work  in  vain  - 
Wrought  double  tides,  and  all  was  well  again. 

THEIR    CURISTBSINGS  AND  WEDDING-DAY  FESHVALS.  —  Wl 
FRUOALITV. 

Yet  though  so  prudent,  there  were  times  of  joy,  - 
Tho  day  they  wed,  the  christening  of  tho  boy,  — 
When  to  the  wealthier  farmers  there  was  shown 
Welcome  unfeigned,  and  plenty  like  thoir  own  ; 
For  Susan  served  the  great,  and  had  some  pride, 
Among  our  topmost  people  to  preside  ; 
Yet  in  that  plenty,  in  that  welcome  free, 
There  was  the  guiding  nice  frugality  ; 
That  in  the  festal  as  the  frugal  day. 


Recorded  next  a  babe  of  love  I  trace  ! 
Of  many  loves,  the  mother's  fresh  disgrace  ;  — 
'  Again,  thou  harlot !  could  not  all  thy  pain. 
All  ray  reproof,  thy  wanton  thoughts  restrain  7 ' 

'  Far  other  thoughts,  your  Reverence,  caused  tho 
'T  was  pure  good-nature,  not  a  wanton  will  ;      [ill. 
They  urged  mo,  paid  me,  begged  mo  to  comply, 
Not  hard  of  heart  or  slow  to  yield  am  I, 
But  prone  to  grant,  as  melting  charity. 
For  wanton  wishes,  let  the  frail  ones  smart, 
But  all  my  failing  is  a  tender  heart.' 

For  rite  of  churching  soon  she  made  her  way, 
In  dread  of  scandal,  should  she  miss  the  day  ; 
Two  matrons  came  !  with  them  she  humbly  knelt, 
Their  action  copied,  and  their  comforts  felt. 
From  that  great  pain  and  peril  to  be  free. 
Though  still  in  peril  of  that  pain  to  be  ; 
Alas  !  what  numbers,  like  this  amorous  Jamc, 
Are  quick  to  censure,  but  are  dead  to  shame. 


Twin-infants  then  appear,  a  girl,  a  boy. 
The  o'erflowing  cup  of  Gerard  Ablett's  joy  : 
Seven  have  I  named,  and  but  six  years  have  past 
By  him  and  Judith  siin-.-  I  l.niiiu!  ttn-m  ixst  ;  [vine 

Well  pleased,  the  brill liiar  — 'A 

Fruitful  and  sprpi^i  I    lie  thine. 

And   branch-like    I"  j' — Gerard 

Looked  joyful  l.v,  mil      il>  -iiii.  ■  Amen.'    [theu 
Nowoftlial  I  111'   111    wilt  I  III!  more  increase. 
Those  playliil  li  inlii-  n-.u  'li-lurbcd  his  peace  ; 
Thi-m  ho  liilii.l  I     111.1111.1  Lis  tiible  spread. 
But  iiii.l  ,  til.   111.  11.  thu  branch,  tho  less  the  bread  ; 
Ami,  uiiili   til.  \  mil  liis  humbled  walls  about, 
Thi  y  ki  I'll  tin  -uii-Line  of  good-humor  out. 

i  BICU  HAN'S 

Cease,  man,  to  grieve  !  thy  master's  lot  survey. 
Whom  wife  and  children,  thou  and  thine,  obey  ; 
A  farmer,  proud  beyond  a  farmer's  pride. 
Of  all  around  the  envy  or  the  guide  ; 
Who  trots  to  market  on  a  steed  so  line, 
That,  when  I  meet  him,  I  'm  ashamed  of  mine  ; 
Whose  board  is  high  up-hoaped  with  generous  fare, 
Which  five  stout  sons  and  three  tall  daughters  share: 
Goose,  man,  to  grieve  ;  and  listen  to  his  care. 
A  few  years  fled,  and  all  thy  hoys  shall  be 
Lords  of  a  cot,  and  laborers  like  thee  ; 
Thy  girls  unportioned  neighboring  youths  shall  lead. 
Brides  from  my  church,  and  thenceforth  thou  art 
freed. 


320 


RURAL  POETRY. 


But  then  thy  master  shall  of  cares  complain, 
Care  after  oare,  a  long  connected  train  ; 
His  sons  for  farms  shall  ask  a  large  supply, 
For  farmers'  sons  each  gentle  miss  shall  sigh  ; 
Thy  mistress,  reasoning  well  of  life's  decay, 
Shall  ask  a  chaise,  and  hardly  brook  delay  ; 
The  smart  young  Cornet,  who,  with  so  much  grace, 
Rode  in  the  ranks  and  betted  at  the  race. 
While  the  vexed  parent  rails  at  deed  so  rash. 
Shall  d — n  his  luck,  and  stretcli  his  hand  for  cash. 
Sad  troubles,  Gerard  !  now  pertain  to  thee, 
When  thy  rich  master  seems  from  trouble  free  ; 
But 't  is  one  fate  at  different  times  assigned, 
And  thou  shalt  lose  the  cares  that  he  must  find. 


*  Ah  ! '  quoth  our  village  grocer,  rich  and  old, 
*  Would  I  might  one  such  cause  for  care  behold  ! ' 
To  whom  his  friend,  *  Mine  greater  bliss  would  be 
Would  heaven  take  those  my  spouse  assigns  to  me. ' 

Aged  were  both;  that  Dawkins,  Ditchem  this, 
Who  much  of  marriage  thought,  and  much  amiss  ; 
Both  would  delay  :  the  one,  till,  riches  gained. 
The  son  he  wished  might  be  to  honor  trained  ; 
His  friend,  lest  fierce  intruding  heirs  should  come, 
To  waste  his  hoard,  and  vex  his  quiet  home. 

SKETCH   OF   DAWKISS.  —  SKETCH  OF    DITCHEM. 

Dawkins,  a  dealer  once,  on  burthened  back 
Bore  his  whole  substance  in  a  pedler's  pack  ; 
To  dames  discreet,  the  duties  yet  unpaid, 
His  stores  of  lace  and  hyson  he  conveyed  : 
When  thus  enriched,  he  chose  at  home  to  stop. 
And  fleece  his  neighbors  in  a  new-built  shop  ; 
Then  wooed  a  spinster  blithe,  and  hoped,  when  wed, 
For  love's  fair  favors  and  a  fruitful  bed. 

Not  so  his  friend  ;  — on  widow  fair  and  staid 
He  fixed  his  eye,  but  he  was  much  afraid  ; 
Yet  wooed  ;  while  she  his  hair  of  silver  hue 
Demurely  noticed,  and  her  eye  withdrew. 
Doubtful  he  paused.  —  '  Ah  !  were  I  sure,'  he  cried, 
'  No  craving  children  would  my  gains  divide  ; 
Fair  as  she  is,  I  would  my  widow  take, 
And  live  more  largely  for  my  partner's  sake.*  [past, 
With  such  their  views,  some  thoughtful  years  they 
And,  hoping,  dreading,  they  were  bound  at  last. 
And  what  their  fate  ?     Observe  them  as  they  go. 
Comparing  fear  with  fear,  and  woe  with  woe, 

'Ah!  Humphrey  !  Humphrey  !  Envy  in  my  breast 
Sickens  to  see  thee  in  thy  children  blest  ; 
They  are  thy  joys,  while  I  go  grieving  home, 
To  a  sad  spouse  and  our  eternal  gloom  ; 
We  look  despondency  ;   no  infant  near, 
To  bless  the  eye,  or  win  the  parent's  ear  ; 
Our  sudden  heats  and  quarrels  to  allay, 
And  soothe  the  petty  sufferings  of  the  day  : 
Alike  our  want,  yet  both  the  want  reprove. 
Where  are,  I  cry,  these  pledges  of  our  love  ? 
When  she,  like  Jacob's  wife,  makes  fierce  reply, 
Yet  fond  —  "  0  !  give  me  children,  or  I  die  ;" 


And  I  return,  still  childless  doomed  to  live, 

Like  the  vexed  patriarch,  *'  Are  they  mine  to  give  ?  " 

Ah  !  much  I  envy  thee  thy  boys,  who  ride 

On  poplar  branch,  ^nd  canter  at  thy  side  ;     [know, 

And  girls,  whose  cheelts  thy  chin's  fierce  fondness 

And  with  fresh  beauty  at  the  contact  glow.* 

DITCHEM'S   reply. — HIS  THICK-COMING  MISEHIES. 

'  0,  simple  friend,'  said  Humphrey, '  wouldst  thou 
A  father's  pleasure,  by  a  husband's  pain?         [gain 
Alas  !  what  pleasure,  when  some  vigorous  boy 
Should  swell  thy  pride,  some  rosy  girl  thy  joy  ? 
Is  it  to  doubt,  who  grafted  this  sweet  flower, 
Or  whence  arose  that  spirit  and  that  power? 

'  Four  years  I  've  wed  ;  not  one  has  past  in  vain  : 
Behold  the  fifth  !     Behold,  a  babe  again  ! 
My  wife's  gay  friends  the  unwelcome  imp  admire. 
And  fill  the  room  with  gratulation  dire  ; 
While  I  in  silence  sate,  revolving  all  ! 
That  influence  ancient  men,  or  that  befall  ;   [came; 
A  gay  pert  guest  —  Heaven  knows  his  business  — 
A  glorious  boy,  he  cried,  and  what  the  name  ? 
Angry  I  growled.     *'  My  spirit  cease  to  tease  ! 
Name  it  yourselves,  —  Cain,  Judas,  if  you  please  ! 
His  father's  give  him,  should  you  that  explore. 
The  devil's  or  yours  :  "  I  said,  and  sought  the  door. 
My  tender  partner  not  a  word  or  sigh 
Gives  to  my  wrath,  not  to  my  speech  reply  ; 
But  takes  her  comforts,  triumphs  in  my  pain, 
And  looks  undaunted  for  a  birth  again.' 


Heirs  thus  denied  afflict  the  pining  heart. 
And  thus  afforded  jealous  pangs  impart ; 
To  prove  these  arrows  of  the  giant's  hand 
Are  not  for  man  to  stay  or  to  command. 
Then  with  their  infants  three  the  parents  came. 
And  each  assigned  —  'twas  all  they  had  —  a  name: 
Names  of  no  mark  or  price  ;   of  them  not  one 
Shall  court  our  view  on  the  sepulchral  stone  ; 
Or  stop  the  clerk,  the  engraven  scrolls  to  spell. 
Or  keep  the  sexton  from  the  sennon-bell. 

An  orphan  girl  succeeds  :  ere  she  was  born, 
Her  father  died;  her  mother,  on  that  morn  ; 
The  pious  mistress  of  the  school  sustains 
Her  parents'  part,  nor  their  affection  feigns. 
But  pitying  feels  ;  with  due  respect  and  joy, 
I  trace  the  matron  at  her  loved  employ  ; 
What  time  the  striplings,  wearied  eVn  with  play. 
Part  at  the  closing  of  the  Summer's  day,  [way. 

And  each  by  different  path  returns  the  well-known 
Then  I  behold  her  at  her  cottage  door. 
Frugal  of  light ;— her  Bible  laid  before. 
When  on  her  double  duty  she  proceeds. 
Of  time  as  frugal  ;  knitting  as  she  reads  : 
Her  idle  neighbors,  who  approach  to  tell 
Of  news  or  nothing,  she  by  looks  compels 
To  hear  reluctant,  while  the  lads  who  pass 
In  pure  respect  walk  silent  on  the  grass  ; 
Then  sinks  the  day,  but  not  to  rest  she  goes, 
Till  solemn  prayers  the  daily  duties  close. 


AUTUMN  —  SEPTEMBER. 


821 


But  I  digress,  and,  lo  !  an  infant  train 
Appear,  and  call  me  to  my  task  again. 


I  OARDENBR  1K»  ni8    Hill 
LEARNKD  NAMKS  OF  BABSS  AXD   KLOWERS. 

■  Why  Loniccrft  wilt  thou  name  thy  child? ' 
I  asked  the  gardener's  wife,  in  accent  mild. 
'  Wo  have  a,  right,'  replied  the  sturdy  dame  ; 
And  Loniocra  was  the  infant's  name. 
If  next  a  son  shall  yield  our  gardener  joy. 
Then  Hyacinthus  shall  be  that  fair  boy  j 
And  if  a  girl,  they  will  at  length  agree 
That  Belladonna  that  fair  maid  shall  be. 

Iligh-aounding  words  our  worthy  gardener  gets, 
And  at  bis  club  to  wondering  swains  repeats  : 
lie  then  of  Rhus  and  Rhododendron  speaks, 
And  Allium  calls  his  onions  and  his  leeks  ; 
Nor- weeds  are  now,  for  whence  arose  the  weed 
Scarce  plants,  fair  herbs  and  curious  flowers,  proceed ; 
Where  cuckoo-pints  and  dandelions  sprung  — 
Oross  names  had  they,  our  plainer  sires  among  ;  — 
There  arums,  there  leontodons,  we  view. 
And  artcniisia  grows  where  wormwood  grew. 

But  tliough  no  weed  e.\ists,  his  garden  round, 
From  'rumex'  strong  our  gardener  frees  his  ground. 
Takes  soft  'senecio'  from  the  yielding  land. 
And  grasps  tho  armed  '  urtica'  in  his  hand. 

DARWIK    AND    PETER     PRATT.  —  LOVES    OF    THE    PLANTS.  — 
SCIENCE  AND  PniLOSOPUT. 

Not  Darwin's  self  had  more  delight  to  sing 
Of  floral  courtship,  in  the  awakened  Spring, 
Than  Peter  Pratt,  who  simpering  loves  to  tell 
How  rise  the  stamens  as  the  pistils  swell ; 
llow  bend  and  curl  their  moist  top  to  the  spouse, 
And  give  and  take  the  vegetable  vows  ; 
Uow  those  esteemed  of  old  but  tips  and  chives 
Are  tender  husbands  and  obedient  wives  ; 
Who  live  and  love  within  the  sacred  bower,  — 
That  bridal  bed  the  vulgar  term  a  flower. 

Hear  Peter  proudly,  to  some  humble  friend, 
A  wondrous  secret  in  his  science  lend. 
'  Would  you  advance  the  nuptial  hour,  and  bring 
The  fruit  of  Autumn  with  the  flowers  of  Spring  ; 
View  that  light  frame  where  cucumis  lies  spread. 
And  trace  the  husbands  in  their  golden  bed, 
Three  turgid  anthers  ;  — then  no  more  delay. 
But  haste  and  bear  them  to  their  spouse  away  ; 
In  a  like  bed  you'll  see  that  spouse  reclined,  — 
0!  haste  and  bear  them,  they  like  love  are  blind,  — 
Then  by  thyself,  from  prying  glance  secure. 
Twirl  the  full  tip  and  make  the  marriage  sure  ; 
A  long-abiding  race  the  deed  shall  pay. 
Nor  one  unblest  abortion  pine  away.' 
To  admire  their  friend's  discourse  our  swains  agree. 
And  call  it  science,  and  philosophy. 

HOW  TO  STCDT  BOTAST,  NATCnAL  UISTORV,  ETC.  ;  SA.MtS. 

'T is  good,  'tis  pleasant,  through  tho  advancing 
To  see  unnumbered,  growing  forms  appear  ;    [year. 
What  leafy-like  from  earth's  broad  bosom  rise  ! 
What  insect  myriads  seek  the  summer  skies  ! 
What  scaly  tribes  in  every  streamlet  move  I 


41 


What  plumy  people  sing  in  every  grove  ! 
All  with  the  year  awaked,  to  life's  great  duty.  Love. 
Then  names  are  good,  for  how,  without  their  aid 
Is  knowledge  gained  by  man,  to  man  conveyed? 
But  from  that  source  shall  all  our  pleasure  flow? 
Shall  all  our  knowledge  bo  those  names  to  know  ? 
Then  he  with  memory  blest  shall  bear  away 
The  palm  from  (irew,  and  Middleton,  and  Ray  ; 
No  !  let  us  rather  seek  in  grove  and  field 
What  food  for  wonder,  what  for  use,  they  yield  ; 
Some  just  remark  from  Nature's  people  bring, 
And  some  new  source  of  homage  for  her  Ring. 

Pride  lives  with  all  ;  strange  names  our  rustics 
To  helpless  infanta,  that  their  own  may  live;  [give 
Pleased  to  be  known,  some  notice  they  will  claim, 
And  find  some  by-way  to  the  house  of  fame. 

The  straightest  furrow  lifts  the  ploughman's  heart, 
Or  skill  allowed  him  in  the  bruiser's  art ; 
The  bowl  that  boats  the  greater  number  down 
Of  tottering  nine-pins,  gives  to  fame  the  clown  ; 
Or,  foiled  in  these,  he  opes  his  ample  jaws. 
And  lets  a  frog  leap  down,  to  gain  applause  ; 
Or  grins  for  hours,  or  tipples  for  a  week. 
Or  challenges  a  well-pinched  pig  to  squeak  ; 
Some  idle  deed,  some  child's  preposterous  name. 
Shall  make  him  known,  and  give  his  folly  fame. 

To  name  an  infant  met  our  village  sires. 
Assembled  all,  as  such  event  requires  ; 
Frequent  and  full  the  rural  sages  sate. 
And  speakers  many  urged  the  long  debate. 
Some  hardoni'il  kiiav.--,  who  r.ivod  the  country  round, 
Ha<lleftu  li:.i-  1.  iilun  ih-   p;irish  bound. 
First,  of  til.'  1,1.1  ili.i  .|i:.    ii..ii<-d.    •  Was  it  true  ?  ' 

Tho  child  wj    I ..jii     ■  Wlmt  thenremained  todo?' 

'Was't  (l».;i.l     .  1. , ;    _  '       1  III-;  was  fairly  proved  ; 
'Twos  pin.  li.  I        I  I       I  I  .very  doubt  removed. 

Then  by  ivhii  i  .  ki.mo  guest  to  call 

Wn-l..n.^.  .    .       ■     I, i  n  ,,„.,ed  them  all  ; 

1'.  r  '      ■,  ■  I  [,;iiiie  to  babe  unknown, 

''.  '.    I     L'lit  take  it  for  his  own. 

'1'1..>   Ik.  I   iK  111,  ihey  asked  tho  name  of  all, 
Ami  11. .t  ..no  Ki.-hiird  answered  to  the  call  ; 
Next  they  inquired  the  day  when,  passing  by. 
The  unlucky  peasant  heard  the  stranger's  cry. 
Thi.--  kn'.wn,  h'.w  f.ind  and  raiment  they  might  give, 
\\:i-  II.  \t  .I.l.,i{..l  —  f.ir  the  rogue  would  live. 
At  l.-i,  Willi  ,tll  tii.-ir  words  and  work  content, 
lia.  k  t..  ili.ir  h..iii..,s  tho  prudent  vestry  went. 
And  Richard  Monday's  to  the  work-house  sent. 

EDICATION  OP  A  PARISH    ForXDLISO  ;     HIS     ABJECT    CONDI- 
TION,   AND   TEMPER  ;    HE    ELOPES. 

There  was  he  pinched  and  pitied,  thumped  and  fed. 
And  duly  took  his  beatings  and  his  bread  ; 
Patient  in  all  control,  in  all  abuse, 
He  found  contempt  and  kicking  have  their  use  : 
Sad,  silent,  supple  ;  bending  to  the  blow, 
A  slave  of  slaves,  tho  lowest  of  the  low  ; 
His  pliant  soul  gave  way  to  all  things  base, 


322 


EUKAL   POETRY. 


-  CRABBE. 


He  knew  no  shame,  he  dreaded  no  disgrace  ; 

It  seemed,  so  well  his  passions  he  suppressed, 

No  feeling  stirred  his  ever-torpid  breast. 

Him  might  the  meanest  pauper  bruise  and  cheat, 

He  was  a  foot-stool  for  the  beggar's  feet  ; 

His  were  the  legs  that  ran  at  all  commands  ; 

They  used,  on  all  occasions,  Richard's  hands  ; 

His  very  soul  was  not  his  own  ;  he  stole 

As  others  ordered,  and  without  a  dole  : 

In  all  disputes,  on  either  part  he  lied, 

And  freely  pledged  his  oath  on  either  side  ; 

In  all  rebellions,  Richard  joined  the  rest, 

In  all  detections,  Richard  first  confessed  ; 

Yet,  though  disgraced,  he  watched  his  time  so  well. 

He  rose  in  favor,  when  in  fame  he  fell  ; 

Base  was  his  usage,  vile  his  whole  employ, 

And  all  despised  and  feed  the  pliant  boy  : 

At  length,  "Tis  time  he  should  abroad  be  sent,' 

AVas  whispered  near  him,  —  and  abroad  he  went ; 

One  morn  they  called  him,  Richard  answered  not. 

They  doomed  him  hanging,  and  in  time  forgot,  — 

Yet  missed  him  long,  as  each,  throughout  the  clan, 

Found  he  '  had  better  spared  a  better  man.' 


bIR  R.   MONDAr  ;   mS  WEALTH  AND    WORTH HIS  LEGACY. 

Now  Richard's  talents  for  the  world  were  fit ; 
He  'd  no  small  cunning,  and  had  some  small  wit  ; 
Had  that  calm  look  that  seemed  to  all  assent, 
And  that  complacent  speech  that  nothing  meant ; 
He  'd  but  one  care,  and  that  he  strove  to  hide. 
How  best  for  Richard  Monday  to  provide. 
Steel  through  opposing  plates  the  magnet  draws, 
And  steely  atoms  culls  from  dust  and  straws  ; 
And  thus  our  hero,  to  his  interest  true, 
Gold  through  all  bars  and  from  each  trifle  drew  ; 
But  still  more  sure  about  the  world  to  g[i. 
This  Fortune's  child  had  neither  friend  nor  foe. 

Long  lost  to  us,  at  last  our  man  we  trace,  — 
Sir  Richard  Monday  died  at  Monday-place  ; 
His  lady's  worth,  his  daughter's,  we  peruse, 
And  find  his  grandsons  all  as  rich  as  Jews  ; 
He  gave  reforming  charities  a  sum, 
And  bought  the  blessings  of  the  blind  and  dumb  ; 
Bequeathed  to  missions  money  from  the  stocks, 
And  Bibles  issued  from  his  private  bo.x  ; 
But  to  his  native  place,  severely  just. 
He  left  a  pittance  bound  in  rigid  trust ; 
Two  paltry  pounds  on  every  quarter's-day 
(At  church  produced),  for  forty  loaves  should  pay  ; 
A  stinted  gift,  that  to  the  parish  shows 
He  kept  in  mind  their  bounty  and  their  blows. 

BARNABT,  TOE   FARMER'S   BUTT. 

To  farmers  three  the  year  has  given  a  son. 
Finch  on  the  moor,  and  French,  and  Middleton  ; 
Twice  in  this  year,  a  female  Giles  I  see, 
A  Spalding  once,  and  once  a  Barnaby  ; 
An  humble  man  is  he,  and  when  they  meet, 
Our  farmers  find  him  on  a  distant  seat  ; 
There  for  their  wit  he  serves  a  constant  theme  ; 
They  praise  his  dairy,  they  extol  his  team  ; 


They  ask  the  price  of  each  unrivalled  steed, 
And  whence  his  sheep,  that  admirable  breed  ; 
His  thriving  arts  they  beg  he  would  explain, 
And  where  he  puts  the  njoney  he  must  gain  :  — 
They  have  their  daughters,  but  they  fear  their  friend 
Would  think  his  sons  too  much  would  condescend  ; 
They  have  their  sons  who  would  their  fortunes  try. 
But  fear  his  daughters  will  their  suit  deny. 
So  runs  the  joke,  while  James,  with  sigh  profound. 
And  face  of  care,  keeps  looking  on  the  ground  ; 
These  looks  and  sighs  provoke  the  insult  more. 
And  point  the  jest  —  for  Barnaby  is  poor. 

Last  in  my  List,  five  untaught  lads  appear  ; 
Their  father  dead.  Compassion  sent  them  here  : 
For  still  that  rustic  infidel  denied 
To  have  their  names  with  solemn  rite  applied  : 
I  His,  a  lone  house,  by  Dead-man's  Dyke-way  stood  ; 
And  his,  a  nightly  haunt  in  Lonely-wood. 
Each  village  inn  has  heard  the  ruifian  boast 
That  he  believed  '  in  neither  God  nor  ghost  ; 
That  when  the  sod  upon  the  sinner  pressed. 
He,  like  the  saint,  had  everlasting  rest ; 
That  never  priest  believed  his  doctrines  true, 
But  would,  for  profit,  own  himself  a  Jew, 
Or  worship  wood  and  stone,  as  honest  heathen  do  ; 
That  fools  alone  on  future  worlds  rely. 
And  all  who  die  for  faith  deserve  to  die.' 

These  maxims  part  the  attorney's  clerk  professed. 
His  own  transcendant  genius  found  the  rest. 
Our  pious  matrons  heard,  and  much  amazed 
Gazed  on  the  man,  and  trembled  as  they  gazed  ; 
And  now  his  face  explored,  and  now  his  feet, 
Man's  dreaded  Foe,  in  this  bad  man,  to  meet : 
But  him  our  drunkards  as  their  champion  raised. 
Their  bishop  called,  and  as  their  hero  praised  ; 
Though  most,  when  sober,  and  the  rest,  when  sick, 
Had  little  question  whence  his  bishopric. 
But  he,  triumphant  spirit !  all  things  dared, 
He  poached  the  wood  and  on  the  warren  snared  ; 
'T  was  his  at  cards  each  novice  to  trepan. 
And  call  the  wants  of  rogues  the  rights  of  man  • 
Wild  as  the  winds  he  let  his  offspring  rove. 
And  deemed  the  marriage  bond  the  bane  of  love. 

What  age  and  sickness  for  a  man  so  bold 
Had  done,  we  know  not ;  —  none  beheld  him  old  : 
By  night,  as  business  urged,  he  sought  the  wood. 
The  ditch  was  deep,  the  rain  had  caused  a  flood  ; 
The  foot-bridge  failed,  he  plunged  beneath  the  deep, 
And  slept,  if  truth  were  his,  the  eternal  sleep,  [sail. 
These  have  we  named  ;   on  life's  rough  sea  they 
With  many  a  prosperous,  many  an  adverse  gale  ; 
Where  passions  soon,  like  powerful  winds,  will  rage. 
While  wearied  Prudence  with  their  strength  engage; 
Then  each,  in  aid,  shall  some  companion  ask 
For  help  or  comfort  in  the  tedious  task  ; 
.•\nd  what  that  help,  what  joys  from  union  flow. 
What  good  or  ill,  we  next  prepare  to  show  ; 
And  row,  meantime,  our  weary  bark  ashore, 
As  Spencer  his,  but  not  with  Spencer's  oar. 


Iluval  (i^ts 

for  ^uiuist. 

LLOYD'S  "  COUNTRY  BOX." 

Well,  then,  suppose  them  fixed  at  last. 

White-washing,  painting,  scrubbing  paat, 

The  wealthy  cit,  grown  old  in  trade, 

Hugging  themselves  in  ease  and  clover, 

Now  wishes  for  the  rural  shade, 

With  all  the  fuss  of  moving  over  ; 

And  buckles  to  his  one-horse  ehair 

Lo  !  a  new  heap  of  whims  are  bred, 

Old  Dobbin  or  the  foundered  mare  ; 

And  wanton  in  my  lady's  head. 

While,  wedged  in  closely  by  his  side, 

'  Well,  to  be  sure  it  must  be  owned. 

Sits  Madam,  his  unwieldy  bride, 

It  is  a  charming  spot  of  ground  ; 

With  Jacky  on  a  stool  before  'em. 

So  sweet  a  distance  for  a  ride, 

And  nnt  thfv  jn^  in  due  decorum. 

And  all  about  so  counlryfied  ! 

-•.•"'•  iiiii.ikohalf  a  mile, 

'T  would  come  but  to  a  trifling  price 

I  [                               v  seems  to  smile  ! 

To  make  it  quite  a  paradise. 

i .  .i^.g  together, 

I  cannot  bear  those  nasty  rails. 

■]'                         Mho  road  and  weather. 

Those  ugly,  broken,  mouldy  pales  : 

Wliil.'  .M.i.l.im  .l..ti.'S  upon  the  trees. 

Suppose,  my  dear,  instead  of  these. 

And  longs  for  every  house  she  sees  ; 

We  build  a  railing,  all  Chinese  : 

Admires  its  views,  its  situation. 

Although  one  hates  to  be  exposed, 

And  thus  she  opens  her  oration  : 

'T  is  dismal  to  be  thus  enclosed  ; 

'  What  signify  the  lo.uls  of  wealth, 

One  hardly  any  object  sees  — 

M'ithout  that  richest  jewel,  health  ' 

I  wish  you'd  fell  those  odious  trees. 

Excuse  the  fondness  of  a  wife. 

Objects  continual  passing  by 

Who  dotes  upon  your  precious  life  ! 

Were  something  to  amuse  the  eye  ; 

Such  ceaseless  toil,  such  constant  care, 

But  to  be  pent  within  the  walls  — 

Is  more  than  human  strength  can  bear  ! 

One  might  as  well  be  at  St.  Paul's. 

One  may  observe  it  in  your  face  — 

Our  house  beholders  would  adore, 

Indeed,  my  dear,  you  break  apace  : 

Was  there  a  level  lawn  before. 

And  nothing  can  your  health  repair, 

Nothing  iU  views  to  incommode. 

But  exercise  and  country  air  ; 

But  quite  laid  open  to  the  road  ! 

Sir  TraOic  has  a  house,  you  know. 

M'hile  every  traveller  in  amaze 

About  a  mile  from  Cheney-Row  ; 

Should  on  our  little  mansion  gaze. 

He's  a  good  man,  indeed  't  is  true. 

And,  pointing  to  the  choice  retreat, 

But  not  so  "  warm,"  my  dear,  as  you  : 

Cry,  that's  Sir  Thrifty 's  country-scat.' 

And  folks  are  always  apt  to  sneer  — 

No  doubt  her  arguments  prevail. 

One  would  not  be  out-done,  my  dear  ! ' 

For  Madam's  taste  can  never  fail. 

Sir  Traffic's  name,  so  well  applied. 

Blest  ago  !  when  all  men  may  procure 

Awaked  his  brother-merchant's  pride. 

The  title  of  a  connoisseur  ; 

And  Thrifty,  who  had  all  his  life 

When  noble  and  ignoble  herd 

Paid  utmost  deference  to  his  wife, 

Are  governed  by  a  single  word  ; 

Confessed  her  argument  had  reason, 

Though,  like  the  royal  German  dames. 

And  by  th'  approaching  summer  season 

It  bears  an  hundred  Christian  names  ; 

Draws  a  few  hundreds  from  the  stocks. 

As  genius,  fancy,  judgment,  gout. 

And  purchases  his  country-box. 

1                 Some  three  or  four  miles  out  of  town 

Which  appellations  all  describe 

(An  hour's  ride  will  bring  you  down). 

Taste,  and  the  modem  tasteful  tribe. 

Ue  fixes  on  his  choice  abode. 

Now,  bricklayers,  carpenters,  and  joiners, 

Not  half  a  furlong  from  the  road  : 

With  Chinese  artists  and  designers. 

And  so  convenient  does  it  lay. 

Produce  their  schemes  of  alteration, 

The  stages  pass  it  every  day  : 

To  work  this  wondrous  reformation. 

And  then  so  snug,  so  mighty  pretty. 

The  useful  dome,  which  secret  stood, 

To  have  a  house  so  near  the  city  ! 

Embosomed  in  the  yew-tree's  wood, 

Take  but  your  places  at  the  Boar, 

The  traveller  with  amazement  sees 

You  're  set  down  at  the  very  door. 

A  temple,  Gothic,  or  Chinese, 

ETJRAL   POETRY. CHEETHAM ROGERS COLERIDGE. 


With  many  a  bell,  and  tawdry  rag  on, 
And  crested  with  a  sprawling  dragon  ; 
A  wooden  arch  is  bent  astride 
A  ditch  of  water,  four  feet  wide. 
With  angles,  curves,  and  zigzag  lines, 
From  Halfpenny's  exact  designs. 
In  front,  a  level  lawn  is  seen. 
Without  a  shrub  upon  the  green  ; 
Where  taste  would  want  its  first  great  law, 
But  for  the  skulking,  sly  ha-ha. 
By  whose  miraculous  assistance. 
You  gain  a  prospect  two-fields'  distance. 
And  now  from  Hyde-Park  corner  come 
The  gods  of  Athens  and  of  Rome. 
Here  squabby  Cupids  take  their  places. 
With  Venus,  and  the  clumsy  Graces  ; 
Apollo  there,  with  aim  so  clever. 
Stretches  his  leaden  bow  forever  ; 
And  there,  without  the  power  to  fly. 
Stands  fixed  a  tip-toe  Mercury. 

The  villa  thus  completely  graced, 
All  own  that  Thrifty  has  a  taste  ; 
And  Madam's  female  friends,  and  cousins, 
With  common-council  men  by  dozens, 
Flock  every  Sunday  to  the  seat, 
To  stare  about  them  —  and  to  eat. 


CHEETHAM'S  "HAPPY  MEAN." 

Happv  the  man,  from  busy  cares  withdrawn. 

Who  seeks  the  sweets  of  rural  ease, 

AVhere  every  spot  has  power  to  please. 

The  rugged  mountain  and  the  verdant  lawn. 

He  shuns  the  deathful  din  of  war. 

The  dreadful  trumpet's  bray  ; 
Though  cannons  thunder  from  afar, 

He  hears  without  dismay. 
Nor  when  the  threatening  billows  rise, 

And  blackening  clouds  appear, 
Does  he  with  horror  view  the  skies. 

And  Neptune's  fury  fear. 
No  golden  dreams  of  fame  or  wealth 

Disturb  his  humbler  views, 
With  peace  of  mind  and  blooming  health 

His  labor  he  pursues. 
Contented  with  his  rustic  plains. 
Luxurious  revels  he  disdains. 
When  now  the  rosy-bosumed  morn 

Tinges  the  east  with  gilded  ray, 
And,  on  her  silent  courses  borne. 

Serenely  ushers  in  the  day, 
The  lonely  voice  of  Chanticleer 

Calls  him  from  his  humble  bed  ; 
Unfolded  soon  his  fleecy  care  appear. 

And,  bleating,  stray  along  the  distant  mead. 

But  when  the  beauteous  Autumn  rears, 
With  various  fruitage  crowned,  her  head, 


Vhen  waves  the  golden  plain  with  ripened  ears. 
And  clustered  grapes  their  purple  fragrance  shed. 
How  does  it  glad  his  raptured  heart. 
Devoid  of  all -the,  luxuries  of  art. 
To  reap  the  product  of  his  toil, 
Sweeter  from  his  native  soil  ! 
When  the  daily  task  is  done. 
With  the  sober-setting  sun. 

How  untainted  his  delight. 
Underneath  his  straw-built  shade. 
Where  nor  grief  nor  cares  invade, 

Mirthfully  to  waste  the  night. 
Where  his  merry,  sunburnt  wife. 
Partner  of  his  happy  life, 

Meets  her  spouse  with  open  arms  ; 
While  his  numerous  infant  line 
Round  his  knees  in  gambols  twine  ; 

Every  hour  is  full  of  charms. 


ROGERS'S  "ITALIAN  COT." 

Dear  is  my  little  native  vale, 

The  ring-dove  builds  and  murmurs  there 
Close  by  my  cot  she  tells  her  tale 

To  every  passing  villager  ; 
The  squirrel  leaps  from  tree  to  tree. 
And  shells  his  nuts  at  liberty. 

In  orange  groves  and  myrtle  bowers, 
That  breathe  a  gale  of  fragrance  round, 

I  charm  the  fairy-footed  hours 

^Vitli  my  loved  lute's  romantic  sound  ; 

Or  crowns  of  living  laurel  weave 

For  those  that  win  the  race  at  eve. 

The  shepherd's  horn  at  break  of  day, 
The  ballet  danced  in  twilight  glade. 

The  canzonet  and  roundelay 

Sung  in  the  silent  greenwood  shade  ; 

These  simple  joys,  that  never  fail. 

Shall  bind  me  to  my  native  vale. 


OLERIDGE'S  "  DOMESTIC  PEACE.' 
Tell  me  on  what  holy  ground 
May  Domestic  Peace  be  found  — 
Halcyon  daughter  of  the  skies  ! 
Far,  on  fearful  wings,  she  flies. 
From  the  pomp  of  sceptred  state, 
From  the  rebel's  noisy  hate. 
In  a  cottaged  vale  she  dwells. 
Listening  to  the  Sabbath  bells  ! 
Still  around  her  stops  are  seen 
Spotless  Honor's  meeker  mien  ; 
Love,  the  sire  of  pleasing  fears  ; 
Sorrow,  smiling  through  her  tears  ; 
And,  conscious  of  the  past  employ, 
Memory,  bosom  spring  of  joy. 


C(arc's  "lU'ohcn  lijrart;" 


OK,  TIU;  SORROWS  OF 


TIlOLUn  CRI-8L  TO  WOB,  TOK  WORLD   PITIBD  HM. 

To  sober  with  sad  truths  the  laughing  mirth 
Of  rosy  daughters  round  the  cottage  hearth, 
And  pass  the  Winter's  lengthened  ovo  away, 
A  mother  told  the  talc  of  Sally  Grey  :  — 
'  How  time,'  she  said,  '  and  pleasure  vanish  by  ! ' 
Then  stopped  to  wipe  the  tear-drops  from  her  eye;  — 
'  Time  gains  upon  us  distance  unawares, 
Stealing  our  joys  and  changing  them  to  cares  : 
'T  is  nine-and-thirty  years  ago,'  —  the  dato 
To  prove,  she  looked  above  her  where  she  sat 
And  pulled  the  Bible  down  —  that  certain  guide 
When  boys  and  girls  wore  born,  and  old  friends 
That  lay  with  penny  stories  rustling  near,    [died  — 
And  almanacs  preserved  for  many  a  year  ; 
Stopping  her  story  till  she  found  the  place, 
Pulling  her  glasses  from  their  leathern  case  — 
'T  was  right  :  and  from  her  lap,  in  saddened  vein, 
She  took  her  knitting  and  went  on  again.  — 
'  Poor  thing  !  she  died,  heart-broken  and  distressed, 
Through  love.     The  doctors,  who  should  know  the 
Said  't  was  decline  that  wasted  life  away  :        [best, 
But  truth  is  truth  ;  and  be  it  as  it  may. 
She  ne'er  did  aught  that  malice  could  reprove  ;  — 
Her  only  failing  was  the  fault  of  love  ! 

'T  is  hard  enough  when  Innocence  is  hurled 
On  the  cold  bosom  of  a  heartless  world  ; 
AMicii  .Mockery  and  stony-hearted  Prido 
Reveal  the  failings  Pity  strives  to  hide. 
And  with  sad,  cruel  taunt  and  bitter  jest 
Lay  thorns  to  pillow  Trouble's  broken  rest ; 
But  when  a  poor  young  thing  like  Sally  dies 
For  love,  and  only  love  —  where  are  the  eyes 
Can  look  in  Memory's  face  without  a  tear  ? 
Ev'n  Scorn  no  longer  turns  aside  to  sneer. 
But  silent  stands  ;  while  Pity  shakes  her  head, 
And  thinks  tears  just  herself  declines  to  shed. 

VICTIM  OF  A  XAI.S  COQCET  ;  SALLY'S  PARSSTAOE  ;  HKB  BEAD; 
ms  WOOISO  AND   ACCBPTASCB.  —  COCnTSHtP. 

'T  was  by  another's  failings  that  she  fell, 
"VA'hoso  wanton  follies  were  her  passing  bell  : 
A  clown,  as  wild  as  young  colts  free  from  plough. 
Who  saw  a  prison  in  a  marriage-vow, 
Had  won  her  heart,  and  kept  it  in  his  power, 
As  the  rude  bindweed  clasps  the  tender  flowor  — 
A  clown,  as  shifting  as  the  summer  wind. 
To  whom  her  heart  and  love  were  all  resigned. 

Poor  girl  !  I  felt  in  trouble  for  her  end  — 
A  next-door  neighbor  and  an  early  friend  : 
Her  father  kept  a  cottage  next  to  ours  ; 
He  was  a  gardener  and  ho  dealt  in  flowers,  ' 


And  Sally's  beau  would  buy  his  flowers  tho  while 

With  double  prices  —  money  and  a  smile  ; 

And  many  a  whisper  of  love's  cheating  powers  — 

Calling  her  fairest  of  her  father's  flowers.       [move, 

Such  ways,  like  spring-hopes,  youngling  blood  did 

And  by  and  by  got  ripened  into  lovo. 

He  then  tho  wishes  of  her  mind  expressed 

And  was  received  —  a  lover,  welcome  guest ! 

Go  where  we  would,  him  we  were  sure  to  meet. 

Or  on  the  pasture  or  about  the  street  ; 


to  her  father's  liouso  he  often  went, 
welcome  gave,  and  deemed  it  kindly  meant, 

talked  of  goods  and  savings  o'er  his  ale 

:-  h-  !i  ,1  .  :,ni.d  by  his  spade  and  flail  ;  — 

i'   M    !i    u.  I,  with  fatherly  regard, 

I-     "I  [    ulnv  in  his  little  yard  ; 
'In-  ;niil  tli.it,  as  matters  closer  led, 

marriage-portions  when  his  daughters  wed. 

'S  THREB  LITTLE    SISTERS  AND 


The  children  then,  her  little  sisters  three. 
Began  to  know  him,  and  would  climb  his  knee 
To  whisper  little  stories  in  his  ear  ; 
They  called  him  brother,  which  he  smiled  to  hear. 
And,  to  reward  them  for  each  pretty  way. 
He  promised  bride-cako  on  tho  wedding-day  ; 
And,  with  love's  keepsakes  brought  from  fair  or 
He  ne'er  forgot  the  children's  toys  or  cake,    [wake, 
I  marked  these  things  ;  for  I  was  often  by. 
And  even  thought  tho  wedding-day  was  nigh  : 
For,  as  a  neighbor,  oft  by  night  and  day 
I  took  my  work  in,  to  pass  time  away  ; 
And  oft  without  it  on  a  Winter's  eve 
I've  stole  away,  nor  asked  a  mother's  leave. 
To  play  at  cards,  and  talk  of  dress  beside  — 
For  wenches'  heads  arc  ever  after  pride. 

No  holiday  ere  oamo  but  he  was  there  : 
For  him  tho  father  left  his  corner-chair  ; 
Her  mother  blessed  them  as  she  touched  the  glass, 
And  wished  him  luck,  and  nodded  to  the  lass  ; 
And  all  beheld  him,  when  the  freak  begun. 
In  kindred  prospect  as  a  promised  son. 


Thus  for  a  while  his  fawning  lovo  did  bum. 
But  soon  doubts  rose  at  every  touch  and  turn  : 
If  she  but  nodded  at  a  fair  or  wake 
To  youths  she  knew,  it  made  his  bosom  ache  : 


RURAL   POETRY.  —  CLARE. 


Or  said  '  Good-morning  ! '  to  a  passer-by, 
She  always  had  a  rival  in  her  eye. 
Then  jealousy  would  seemingly  complain, 
And  urge  to  vows  ere  all  was  right  again  : 
But  when  he  found  her  heart  indeed  his  own. 
Ho  quickly  made  his  foolish  follies  known  ; 
And,  like  a  young  bird  children  nurse  in  play, 
He  teased  and  plagued  her  till  she  pined  away. 
He  still  loved  on,  but  thought  it  mighty  fun 
To  prove  her  fondness  when  the  maid  was  won. 
From  every  night  to  once  a  week  they  met, 
And  then  excuses  made  it  longer  yet : 
Sometimes  he  could  not  stay  as  heretofore. 
But  called  her  out  to  whisper  at  the  door  ; 
And  turned  away  and  smiled,  self-satisfied 
To  see  the  tear-drops  which  she  strove  to  hide. 
He  danced  with  other  girls,  his  pride  to  please. 
And  seemed  to  glory  in  the  chance  to  tease  ; 
Then  looked  around  him  with  a  leering  eye, 
And  drank  their  healths  when  she  was  sitting  by  : 
Deep  blushes  came  across  her  face  the  while. 
And  tears  would  start  while  she  essayed  to  smile. 
And  oft  when  nigh  a  soldier  he  has  sat. 
He  'd  laugh,  and  put  the  colors  on  his  hat ; 
But  he  too  great  a  coward  was  to  go, 
For  none  but  cowards  do  use  women  so  : 
'T  was  only  to  perplex  the  heart  he  'd  won. 
For  no  one  cause  but  insolence  and  fun. 

Thus  did  he  wound  her,  though  she  loved  him  still. 
And  patiently  put  up  with  every  ill  ; 
Nursing  the  venom  of  that  speckled  snake 
About  her  heart,  till  it  was  like  to  break. 
Yet  when  I  cautioned  her  of  love's  distress, 
And  bade  her  notice  the  wild  fellow  less, 
Saying  she  showed  her  love  too  much  by  half,  — 
'  Mary,  you  jest ! '  she  said,  and  made  a  laugh. 

CLEVER  OLD  WOMAN  DESCRIBED.  —  WITCU  SUPERSTITIONS. 

Frequent  on  Sabbath-days,  in  pleasant  weather. 
We  went  to  walk  and  talk  of  love  together  ; 
And  often  sought  a  hut  beside  the  wood. 
That  from  the  town  a  gossip's  minute  stood. 
Here  an  old  woman,  for  some  small  rewards, 
Would  tell  our  fortunes  both  by  cups  and  cards. 
Some  called  her  witch,  and  whispered  all  they  dare 
Of  mighty  things  that  had  been  noticed  there  ; 
Witches  of  every  shape,  that  used  to  meet 
To  count  tho  stars,  or  muttered  charms  repeat. 
Woodmen,  in  Winter,  as  they  passed  the  road. 
Have  vowed  they  've  seen  some  crawling  like  a  toad ; 
And  some,  like  owlets,  veering  over-head. 
Shrieking  enough  to  fright  the  very  dead. 

Yet  she  to  us  appeared  like  other  folks, 
A  droll  old  woman,  full  of  tales  and  jokes  ; 
And  if  the  old  dame's  tales  were  darkly  meant, 
I  ne'er  perceived  it,  though  I  often  went. 
Deal  as  she  might  with  Satan's  evil  powers. 
She  read  her  Bible,  and  was  fond  of  flowers. 
She  went  to  church  as  other  people  may, 
And  knelt  and  prayed  — though  witches  cannot  pray: 
She  had  her  ague-charms,  and  old  receipts 


For  wounds  and  bruises  labor  often  meets  ; 

And  gathered  wild-flowers  in  her  summer  toils, 

To  make  an  ointment  that  was  famed  for  miles  ; 

And  many  a  one  hath  owned  her  lowly  skill. 

Who  dared  not  run  a  doctor's  longer  bill. 

But  as  to  ill-got  knowledge  of  the  sky. 

She  was  as  innocent  as  you  or  I. 

She  might,  no  doubt,  with  pointed  finger  show 

The  Shepherd's  Lamp,  which  even  children  know  ; 

And  doubtless    loved,   when   journeying  from   the 

To  see  it  rising  soon  as  day  was  down.  [town, 

The   Tailor's   Yard-band,    which    hangs   streaming 

The  pale  Night-wagon  driving  down  the  sky,  [high. 

And  Butcher's  Cleaver,  or  tho  Seven  Stars, 

With  shooting  North-lights,  'tokening  bloody  wars; 

She  might  know  these,  which  if  't  is  siu  to  know, 

Then  everybody  is  a  witch  below. 

Well,  those  are  good  that  never  stoop  to  wrong, 

And  blessed  are  they  that  'scape  an  evil  tongue. 


INTO  A  DECLINE  ; 

Thus  to  young  hopes  she  would  her  fortunes  tell. 
But  Sally  quickly  knew  her  own  too  well ! 
Her  tears  and  sighs  did  all  too  fruitless  prove, 
To  keep  the  Shepherd  to  his  vows  of  love  : 
He  came  to  vex  her  oft  and  would  not  stay. 
But  shut  the  door  again  and  laughed  away. 
As  she  was  spotless  and  a  maiden  still, 
Conscience  ne'er  told  him  that  the  deed  was  ill  ; 
And  ho  made  promises,  to  give  her  pain. 
Just  for  the  sake  of  breaking  them  again. 
On  Winter's  nights  for  hours  I  've  known  her  stand, 
Listening,  with  door  half  open  in  her  hand  ; 
Till,  what  with  colds  and  an  uneasy  mind, 
Her  beauty  faded  and  her  health  declined  : 
The  rose,  that  lovers  call  so,  left  her  face. 
And  the  pale,  sickly  lily  took  its  place. 
Thus  she  went  on,  poor  melancholy  thing  ! 
Just  like  a  bud  that 's  injured  in  tho  Spring, 
That  may  live  on  to  see  the  coming  day  — 
A  feeble  blossom,  leaning  on  decay. 
She  sorrowed  on,  and  worse  and  worse  she  grew. 
And  strength  declined  its  labor  to  pursue  : 
Yet,  wishing  still  her  sorrows  to  conceal. 
She  turned  with  feeble  hand  her  spinning-wheel  j 
Till,  weak,  and  weary,  when  no  one  was  by. 
She  'd  lean  her  backward  in  her  chair  to  cry. 

At  length  her  parents,  though  with  added  fears, 
Saw  through  her  heart-throbs  and  her  secret  tears  ; 
And  when  they  found  the  only  crime  was  love. 
They  joked  at  times,  and  would  at  times  reprove  — 
Saying,  if  that  were  all  the  world  possessed 
For  causing  troubles,  few  would  be  distressed. 
But  all  was  vain!  She  put  her  best  looks  on  [gone; 
When  they  were  there,  and  grieved  when  they  were 
Till  toil  and  fretting  brought  her  down  so  low. 
That  she  was  forced  her  labor  to  forego. 


Her  friends,  no  longer  with  false  hopes  beguiled. 
Feared  for  tho  danger  of  their  troubled  ohild  ; 


AUTUMN  —  SEPTEMBER. 


327 


Her  ohildren-sisters  oft  hung  round  hor  cbur, 
In  which  she  leaned  in  silence  and  despair  ; 
Ilcr  troubled  looks  they  cuuld  not  understand, 
But  tried  to  raise  her  liend  Trora  off  hor  hand, 
And  asked  the  reason  why  sho  sat  so  still, 
Or  if  aught  wronged  her  that  had  made  her  ill. 
She  kissed  their  prattling  lips  with  struggling  sighs, 
While  anguish  rushed  for  freedom  to  her  eyes  ; 
Then  would  she  turn  away  from  friends  and  kin, 
To  hide  the  trouble  that  her  heart  was  in. 
They  eked  her  sorrow  with  her  lover's  name. 
Asking  the  reason  why  ho  never  came  ; 
Bringing  up  childish  memories  to  her  cost  — 
Things  they  had  missed,  and  pleasures  sho  had  lost. 
Thus  they  would  urge  — ending  with  scornful  brow  — 
'  A  naughty  man  !  he  brings  us  nothing  now.' 
She  stopped  their  mouths  with  kisses  and  with  sighs. 
And  turned  her  face  again  to  hide  her  eyes, 
ller  mother  talked  of  patience  all  in  vain. 
And  read  Job's  troubles  o'er  and  o'er  again  ; 
Then  turned  to  love,  and  read  the  book  of  Kuth, 
Making  excuses  for  the  faults  of  youth  ; 
Saying  how  she  in  life's  young  joys  was  crossed, 
And  both  a  lover  and  a  husband  lost ; 
Vet  still  hoped  on,  and  overlooked  the  past. 
And  loved  her  mother,  and  was  blessed  at  last.  — 
And  if,  said  sho,  you  trust  in  God  and  pray. 
You  may  be  happy  in  the  end  as  they.  — 
Then  she  herself  would  often  try  to  read 
The  Bible  comforts  in  the  hour  of  need  ; 
But  soon  she  failed  its  cheering  truths  to  look, 
And  grew  so  weak  sho  scarce  could  lift  the  book. 
Life  to  a  spider's  web  was  worn  and  spun, 
And  e'en  her  hands,  if  lifted  to  the  sun, 
Were  both  so  wasted,  that,  to  fancy's  view. 
The  light  would  almost  seem  to  glimmer  through. 

HKa  LOVER  REPS.\'T8  ;  I.VTEBVIKW  ;  TOO  LATE  ;   VAIX  HOPES  ; 
GOSSIPS  -,  SALLY  DIES.  — TUU  BRIDAL  CUANQES  TO  A  FCNERAL. 

Her  lover,  by  and  by,  his  folly  mourned. 
His  conscience  pricked  him,  or  his  love  returned  : 
He  begged  and  prayed,  and  wished  again  to  be 
Once  more  admitted  to  her  company. 
The  parents  thought 't  would  save  their  sinking  child. 
For  trouble's  hopes  are  quickly  reconciled  — 
So  let  him  come.     I  sat  beside  her  bed  ; 
He  asked  "her  how  she  was,  and  hung  his  head  : 
The  tears  burst  from  her  eyes ;  she  could  not  speak. 
Upon  her  hand  her  sorrow-wa.steJ  cheek 
Sho  leaned  ;  and,  when  he  did  his  sins  recall. 
She  kissed  him  fondly,  and  forgave  him  all,  — 
Then  smiled,  and  bowed  her  faded  face  to  weep. 
And,  wearied  out,  sank  down  like  one  asleep  ; 
Then  rose  again  like  one  awoke  from  pain. 
And  gazed  on  him  and  me  —  and  wept  again  ; 
Then  on  her  bosom  laid  her  wasted  hand, 
Sighing  a  language  brutes  might  understand  ! 

Yet  hopes  were  fed,  though  but  the  mask  of  pain. 
And  she  recovered,  and  got  out  again. 
She  seemed  so  well,  they  e'en  began  to  name 
The  wedding-day.     'T  was  set,  but  ere  it  came, 


The  gossips,  when  they  met,  would  still  agree 
To  shake  their  heads  and  say,  't  would  never  be  ! 
Muttering  o'er  doubts  they  would  not  urge  aloud. 
Saying  her  bride-dress  would  turn  out  a  shroud. 
God  knows,  they  but  too  truly  prophesied  ; 
For,  ere  it  came,  sho  sickened,  sunk,  and  died  ! 

Upon  that  very  morn  that  was  to  see 
The  wedding  sunshino  and  festivity. 
Death  did  so  gently  his  cold  fingers  lay 
Upon  her  bosom,  that  she  swooned  away 
Without  a  groan  ;  and,  but  for  us  that  wept 
About  hor  bed,  you  might  have  thought  she  slept. 
For  marriage-greetings  parents'  sorrows  fell. 
And  marriage-peals  changed  to  a  passing-bell ! 
Hor  young  sun  set  'ncath  sorrow's  gloomy  cloud  : 
Wed  to  the  grave,  her  bride-sheets  were  a  shroud. 
And  I,  instead  of  joining  in  tho  throng 
Of  merry  faces,  and  a  wedding  song  — 
Instead  of  seeing  her  a  bride  become, 
I  bore  tho  pall  up  to  her  last  long  home  ; 
And  heard  tho  old  clerk's  melancholy  stave. 
Who  sang  tho  psalm  bareheaded  by  her  grave. 

OHT.— sally's  TOMO-STOSE. 


CONCLrSIOX  OF  THE  MOTHEl 

Thus  died  poor  Sally  on  her  wedding-day  — 
An  April  bud  that  could  not  sec  tho  May. 
I  often  stand  to  gaze  upon  the  stone. 
Whene'er  I  journey  to  the  church  alone. 
Where  gold-winged  cherubs  hnid  .1  (lowcry  wreath 
Over  a  prayer-book  npm  unlri  n^  :iili  ; 
Upon  whose  leaves  \v;i-  ^  ;it     it  !m  1  i    [iic^t. 
In  golden  letters,  —  ■  U'l'   ii,i   \, i.ir\  iL^t.' 

T!rt  ■!'    i1m   li.  11-  li;ul  chimed  the  hour  of  prayer  : 

.^t' ipiri-,  ;i-  |.it;.  -.  .mly  did  demand, 

I  \M.i|.]'-l  iii\  .1];  Mil-corner  round  my  hand, 

,\iii|  lull-  I  tlj.   I,  ttlL's  that  had  overgrown 

Tlh    w  I -■    :in,l  I  mil. led  half-way  up  the  stone  ; 

Aiiil  ilii  11  ;li  I  .1.  wliL'ii  ye  were  at  the  door, 

"W  lii^iiuiiiig  iMiii  ^wcethearts  your  love-secrets  o'er, 

I  took  my  glasses  to  amuse  myself. 

And  reached  the  Bible  down  from  off*  the  shelf 

To  read  the  text,  and  look  the  psalms  among. 

To  find  tho  one  that  at  her  grave  was  sung. 

The  place  had  long  been  doubled  down  before, 

And  much  I  wish  that  ye  would  read  it  o'er  : 

Your  father  read  it  to  me  many  a  time 

When  ye  were  young,  and  on  our  laps  would  climb  : 

Nay,  keep  your  work  —  't  is  not  worth  while  to  leave; 

I  '11  sit  and  hear  it  on  to-morrow  eve  ; 

For  even  if  tho  night  would  time  allow, 

My  heart 's  too  sad  —  I  cannot  bear  it  now. 

I  've  talked  till  I  have  almost  tired  my  tongue  ; 
Folks  say  old  women's  tales  are  always  long. 
So  here  I  *\l  end  ;  and,  like  it  as  you  may, 
I  wish  you  better  luck  than  Sally  Grey.  — 

Sho  ceased  her  tale,  and  snuffed  the  candlc-wiok. 
Lifting  it  up  from  burning  in  the  stick. 
Then  laid  her  knitting  down,  and  shook  her  head, 
And  stooped  to  stir  the  fire,  and  talk  of  bed. 


fustic  §al!Htr  Ux  Sfjtniihr 


BLOOMFIELD'S    "HARVEST-HOME.' 
What  gossips  prattled  in  the  sun, 

Who  tallted  him  fairly  down, 
Up,  memory  !  tell  ;  't  is  Suffolk  fun. 

And  lingo  of  their  own. 
Ah  !  Judie  Twitohel  ! '  though  thou  'rt  dead, 

With  thee  the  tale  begins  ; 
For  still  seem  thrumming  in  my  head 

The  rattling  of  thy  pins  ! 
Thou  queen  of  knitters  ;  for  a  ball 

Of  worsted  was  thy  pride  ; 
With  dangling  stockings  great  and  small, 

And  world  of  clack  beside  ! 
'  We  did  so  laugh  ;  the  moon  shono  bright ; 

More  fun  you  never  knew  ; 
'T  was  Farmer  Cheerum's  Horkey  -  night. 

And  I,  and  Grace,  and  Sue  — 
'  But  bring  a  stool,  sit  round  about, 

And,  boys,  be  quiet,  pray  ; 
And  let  me  tell  my  story  out ; 

'T  was  sitch  a  merry  day  ! 
'  The  butcher  whistled  at  the  door. 

And  brought  a  load  of  meat ; 
Boys  rubbed  their  hands,  and  cried,  *'  there 's  mor 

Dogs  wagged  their  tails  to  see 't. 

*  On  went  the  boilers  till  the  hake  3 

Had  much  ado  to  bear  'em  ; 
The  magpie  talked  for  talking  sake, 

Birds  sung  ;  —  but  who  could  hear  'em  ? 
'  Creak  went  the  Jack  ;  the  cats  were  seared  ; 

We  had  not  time  to  heed  'em. 
The  owd  bins  cackled  in  the  yard. 

For  we  forgot  to  feed  'em  ! 
'  Yet 't  was  not  I,  as  I  may  say, 

Because  as  how,  d'ye  see, 
I  only  helped  there  for  the  day  ; 

They  cou'd  n't  lay  't  to  me. 

*  Now  Mrs.  Cheerum's  best  lace  cap 

Was  mounted  on  her  head  ; 
Guests  at  the  door  began  to  rap, 

And  now  the  cloth  was  spread. 
'  Then  clatter  wont  the  earthen  plates  — 

"Mind,  Judie,"  was  the  cry  ; 
I  could  have  cop't-*  them  at  their  pates  ! 

"  Trenchers  for  me,"  said  I. 

*  "That  look  so  clean  upon  the  ledge. 

And  never  mind  a  fall  ; 
Nor  never  turn  a  sharp  knife's  edge  ;  — 
But  fashion  rules  us  all." 


'  Home  came  the  jovial  Horkey  load, 


Last  of  the  whole 


year  s  crop  ; 


And  Grace  amongst  the  green  boughs  rode 

Right  plump  upon  the  top. 
'  This  way  and  that  the  wagon  reeled. 

And  never  queen  rode  higher  ; 
Her  cheeks  were  colored  in  the  field. 

And  ours  before  the  fire. 
'The  laughing  harvest-folks  and  John 

Came  in  and  looked  askew  ; 
'T  was  my  red  face  that  set  them  on, 

And  then  they  leered  at  Sue. 
'  And  Farmer  Cheerum  went,  good  man. 

And  broached  the  Horkey  beer  ; 
And  sitch  a  mort*  of  folk  began 

To  eat  up  our  good  cheer. 
'  Says  he,  "  Thank  God  for  what 's  before  us; 

That  thus  we  meet  agen." 
The  mingling  voices,  like  a  chorus, 

Joined  cheerfully,  "  Amen." 
'  Welcome  and  plenty,  there  they  found  'em  ; 

The  ribs  of  beef  grew  light ; 
And  puddings  — till  the  boys  got  round  'em  ; 

And  then  they  vanished  quite  ! 
'  Now  all  the  guests,  with  Farmer  Crouder, 

Began  to  prate  of  corn  ; 
And  we  found  out  they  talked  the  louder, 

The  oftener  passed  the  horn. 


'Outc 


the  1 


set  a  cracking  ; 

The  ale  came  round  our  way  ; 
By  gom,  we  women  fell  a  clacking 

As  loud  again  as  they. 
'John  sung  "Old  Benbow"  loud  and  strong. 

And  I,  "  The  Constant  Swain  ;" 
"  Cheer  up  my  Lads,"  was  Simon's  song, 

"  Wo  '11  conquer  them  again." 
'  Now  twelve  o'clock  was  drawing  nigh. 

And  all  in  merry  cue  ; 
I  knocked  the  cask,  "  0,  ho  ! "  said  I, 

"  We  've  almost  conquered  you." 
'My  lord 6  begged  round,  and  held  his  hat ; 

Says  Farmer  Gruff,  says  he, 
"There  's  many  a  lord,  Sam,  I  know  that. 

Has  begged  as  well  as  thee." 
'Bump  in  his  hat  the  shillings  tumbled 

All  round  among  the  folks  ; 
"  Laugh  if  you  wool,"  said  Sam,  and  t 

"  You  pay  for  all  your  jokes." 


AUTUMN  —  SEPTEMBER. 


■  Joint  stock,  you  know,  among  tho  men. 

To  drink  at  their  own  charges  ; 
So  up  tliey  got  full  drive,  and  then 

Went  out  to  halloo  largess.' 
•  And  sure  enough  tho  noiao  they  mode  !  — 

But  let  mo  mind  my  talc  ; 
Wo  followed  them,  we  wor'nt  afraid, 

Vi'e  'ad  all  been  drinking  alo. 
'  As  they  stood  hallooing  back  to  back. 

We,  lightly  as  a  feather, 
Went  sliding  round,  and  in  a  crack 

Had  pinned  their  coats  together. 
'  'T  was  near  upon  't  as  light  as  noon  ; 

"  A  largess,"  on  the  hill, 
They  shouted  to  the  full  round  moon, 

I  think  I  hear  'em  still  ! 
'  But  when  they  found  tho  trick,  my  stars  ! 

They  well  knew  who  to  blame; 
Our  giggles  turned  to  ha,  ha,  ha's. 

And  artcr  us  they  came. 
'  Grace  by  the  tumbril  made  a  squat. 

Then  ran  as  Sam  came  by  ; 
They  said  she  could  not  run  for  fat  ; 

I  know  she  did  not  try. 
'  Suo  round  tho  ncat-houso  8  squalling  ran, 

Where  Simon  scarcely  dare  ; 
He  stopt,  —  for  ho 's  a  fearful  man  

"  By  gom  there 's  suffen  «  there  ! " 
'And  offset  John,  with  all  his  might, 

To  chase  mo  down  tho  yard. 
Till  I  was  nearly  gran'd '"  outright ; 

He  hugged  so  woundly  hard. 
'Still  they  kept  up  the  race  and  laugh. 

And  round  the  house  wo  flew  ; 
But  hark  ye  !  tho  best  fun  by  half 

Was  .Simon  artcr  Sue. 
'  She  cared  not,  dark  nor  light,  not  she. 

So,  near  tho  dairy  door 
She  passed  a  clean  white  hog,  you  sec. 

They  'd  kilt  the  day  before. 
'  High  on  tho  spirket"  there  it  hung,  — 

"  Now,  Susie  —  what  can  save  ye  7  " 
Round  the  cold  pig  his  arms  ho  flung. 

And  cried,  "  Ah  !  hero  I  have  ye." 
'  The  farmers  heard  what  Simon  said. 

And  what  a  noise  !  good  lack  ! 
Some  almost  laughed  thomselves  to  dead. 

And  others  clapt  his  back. 
'  Wo  all  at  once  began  to  tell 

M'hat  fun  wo  had  aboard  j 
But  Simon  stood  our  jeers  right  well  ; 

—  He  fell  asleep  and  snored. 
•Then  in  his  button-holo  upright 

Did  Farmer  Crouder  put 

A  slip  of  paper  twisted  tight, 

And  held  the  candle  to  't. 


<  It  smoked  and  smoked  beneath  bis  noso, 

Tho  Iiarmlcss  blazo  crept  higher  ; 
Till  with  a  vengcanoo  up  ho  rose,  — 

Grace,  Judie,  Suo  1  fire,  fire  ! 

'The  clock  struck  ono  —  some  talked  of  parting, 

Some  said  it  was  a  sin. 
And  hitched  their  chairs;— but  those  for  starling 

Now  let  tho  moonlight  in. 
'Owd  women,  loitering  for  the  nonce," 

Stood  praising  tho  fine  weather  ; 
Tho  men-folks  took  the  hint  at  onoo 

To  kiss  them  altogether. 
'  And  out  ran  every  soul  beside, 

A  shanny-patcd  "  crew  ; 
Owd  folks  could  neither  run  nor  hide. 

So  some  kctched  one,  some  tow. 
'  They  skrigglcd  and  began  to  scold. 

But  laughing  got  tho  muster  ; 
Some  quackling  cried,  "  Let  go  your  hold  ! " 

Tho  farmers  held  the  faster. 
'  All  innocent,  that  I  'II  be  sworn, 

There  wor'nt  a  bit  of  sorrow  ; 
And  women,  if  their  gowns  are  torn. 

Can  mend  them  on  tho  morrow. 

'  Our  shadows  helter-skelter  danced 

About  the  moonlight  ground  ; 
Tho  wandering  sheep,  as  on  we  pranced, 

Got  up  and  gazed  around. 

'  AnJwell  they  might — till  Farmer  Cheerum, 

Now  with  a  hearty  glee, 
Bade  all  good  morn  as  ho  came  near  'cm, 

And  then  to  bed  went  he. 
'  Then  off  we  strolled  this  way  and  that. 

With  merry  voices  ringing  ; 
And  echo  answered  us  right  pat. 

As  homo  we  rambled  singing. 
'For,  when  we  laughed,  it  laughed  again, 

And  to  our  own  doors  followed  ! 
"  Yo,  ho  !  "  wo  cried ;  "  Yo,  ho  ! "  so  plain 

Tho  misty  meadow  hallooed. 
'  That 's  all  my  tale,  and  all  the  fun  ; 

Come,  turn  your  wheels  about ; 
My  worsted,  soo  !  —  that's  nicely  done. 

Just  held  my  story  out ! ' 
Poor  Judie  !  —  thus  time  knits  or  spins 

The  worsted  from  life's  ball ! 
Death  stopj^d  thy  tales,  and  stopped  thy  pins, 

—  And  so  ho  '11  servo  us  all. 

Notes,  1—13.  Judie  Twitchel  lived  with  a  relative  of 
nioomnild,  at  nonington.  Ilorkcy  h  the  name  given,  in 
SufTolk,  Kngland,  to  the  Harvest-Home  Fenst.  —  Hake,  a 
sliding  pot-hook  ;  cop't,  thrown  ;  sitch  a  mort,  such  a  num- 
bt-r  ;  'lord,'  the  leader  of  the  reapers,  who  collected  the  lar- 
ge.-*?,  and  led  the  troop  that  went  forth  to  halloo,  after  an 
ancient,  perhaps  a  heathen  custom  ;  neat-housc,  cow- 
house ;  sulTen,  something ;  gran'd,  strani^lcd  ;  spirket, 
iron  hook  ;  nonce,  purpose  ;  shanny,  giddy. 


|sa(iii  anir  f  fss0ii5  far  Sfpicmhr. 


QUARLES'S  PSALM  42 :  2. 

What  is  the  soul  the  better  to  be  tiued 
With  lioly  fire  ?  what  boots  it  to  be  coined  [be 

With  Heaven's  own  stamp  ?  what  'vantage  can  there 
To  souls  of  heaven-descended  pedigree, 
More  than  to  beasts  that  grovel  ?  are  not  they 
Fed  by  the  Almighty's  hand  ?  and  every  day 
Filled  with  his  blessings  too  ?  do  they  not  see 
God  in  his  creatures,  as  direct  as  we  ? 
Do  they  not  taste  Thee  ?  hear  Thee  ?  nay,  what  sense 
Is  not  partaker  of  thy  excellence  ? 
What  more  do  we  ?  alas  !  what  serves  our  reason, 
But,  like  dark  lanterns,  to  accomplish  treason 
With  greater  closeness  ?     It  affords  no  light. 
Brings  thee  no  nearer  to  our  purblind  sight : 
No  pleasure  rises  up  the  least  degree. 
Great  God  !  but  in  the  nearer  view  of  Thee  !  *  *  * 

If  those  refulgent  beams  of  heaven's  great  light 
Gild  not  the  day,  what  is  the  day  but  night  ? 
The  drowsy  shepherd  sleeps,  flowers  droop  and  fade; 
The  birds  are  sullen,  and  the  beasts  arc  sad  : 
But  if  bright  Titan  dart  his  golden  ray. 
And  with  his  riches  glorify  the  day, 
The  jolly  shepherds  pipe  ;  flowers  freshly  spring  ; 
The  beasts  grow  gamesome,  and  the  birds  they  sing. 
Thou  art  my  sun,  great  God  !     0,  when  shall  I 
View  the  full  beams  of  thy  meridian  eye  ? 
Draw,  draw  this  fleshly  curtain,  that  denies 
The  gracious  presence  of  thy  glorious  eyes  ; 
Or  give  me  faith  ;  aud,  by  the  eye  of  grace, 
I  shall  behold  Thee,  though  not  face  to  face. 


POPE'S  "MUTUAL  DEPENDENCE." 

Has  God,  thou  fool  !  worked  solely  for  thy  good. 
Thy  joy,  thy  pastime,  thy  attire,  thy  food  ? 
Who  for  thy  table  feeds  the  wanton  fawn 
For  him  as  kindly  spreads  the  flowery  lawn  : 
Is  it  for  thee  the  lark  ascends  and  sings  ? 
Joy  tunes  his  voice,  joy  elevates  his  wings. 
Is  it  for  thee  the  linnet  pours  his  throat? 
Loves  of  his  own  aud  raptures  swell  the  note. 
The  bounding  steed  you  pompously  bestride 
Shares  with  his  lord  the  pleasure  and  the  pride. 
Is  thiue  alone  the  seed  that  strews  the  plain  ? 
The  birds  of  heaven  shall  vindicate  their  grain. 
Thine  the  full  harvest  of  the  golden  year'? 
Part  pays,  and  justly,  the  deserving  steer  : 
The  hog,  that  ploughs  not,  nor  obeys  thy  call. 
Lives  on  the  labors  of  this  lord  of  all. 

Know,  Nature's  children  all  divide  her  care  : 


The  fur  that  warms  a  monarch  warmed  a  bear. 
While  man  exclaims,  'See  all  things  for  my  use  !' 
'  See  man  for  mine  ! '  replies  a  pampered  goose  : 
And  just  as  short  of  reason  he  must  fall, 
Who  thinks  all  made  for  one,  not  one  for  all. 

Grant  that  the  powerful  still  the  weak  control  ; 
Bo  man  the  wit  and  tyrant  of  the  whole  : 
Nature  that  tyrant  checks  ;  he  only  knows 
And  helps  another  creature's  wants  and  woes. 
Say,  will  the  falcon,  stooping  from  above, 
Smit  with  her  varying  plumage,  spare  the  dove  ? 
Admires  the  jay  the  insect's  gilded  wings  ? 
Or  hears  the  hawk  when  Philomela  sings  ? 
Man  cares  for  all  :  to  birds  he  gives  his  woods, 
To  beasts  his  pastures,  and  to  fish  his  floods  ; 
For  some  his  interest  prompts  him  to  provide. 
For  more  his  pleasure,  yet  for  more  his  pride  : 
All  feed  on  one  vain  patron,  and  enjoy 
The  extensive  blessing  of  his  luxury. 
That  very  life  his  learned  hunger  craves. 
He  saves  from  famine,  from  the  savage  saves  ; 
Nay,  feasts  the  animal  he  dooms  his  feast. 
And  till  he  ends  the  being,  makes  it  blest ; 
Which  sees  no  more  the  stroke,  or  feels  the  pain. 
Than  favored  man  by  touch  ethereal  slain. 
The  creature  had  his  feast  of  life  before  ; 
Thou  too  must  perish,  when  thy  feast  is  o'er  ! 


GRAHAME'S   "SABBATH." 
Hail,  Sabbath!  theelhail  !  —  the  poor  man's  day! 
On  other  days  the  man  of  toil  is  doomed 
To  eat  his  joyless  bread  lonely,  the  ground 
Both  seat  and  board,  screened  from  the  winter's  cold 
And  summer's  heat  by  neighboring  hedge  or  tree  ; 
But  on  this  day,  embosomed  in  his  home, 
He  shares  the  frugal  meals  with  those  he  loves  ; 
With  those  he  loves  he  shares  the  heartfelt  joy 
Of  giving  thanks  to  God  —  not  thanks  of  form, 
A  word  and  a  grimace,  but  reverently 
With  covered  face  and  upward,  earnest  eye  ! 
Hail,  Sabbath  !  thee  I  hail  — the  poor  man's  day  ! 
The  pale  mechanic  now  has  leave  to  breathe 
The  morning  air  pure  from  the  city's  smoke  ; 
While  wandering  slowly  up  the  river  side. 
He  meditates  on  Him  whose  power  he  marks 
In  each  green  tree  that  proudly  spreads  the  bough. 
As  in  the  tiny  dew-bent  flowers  that  bloom 
Around  the  roots  ;  —  and  while  he  thus  surveys 
With  elevated  joy  each  rural  charm, 
He  hopes,  yet  fears  presumption  in  the  hope. 
To  reach  those  realms  where  Sabbath  never  ends.** 


AUTUMN-OCTOBER 


^iloomfirlti's 


;l^;inucr  s   iio 


Acoms.  Hogs  in  the  wood.  Whcat-sowintr.  The  church. 
Village  girls.  The  mad  girl.  The  binl-boy's  hut.  Dis- 
appointments ;  reflections,  &c.  Kuston-hall.  Fox-hunt- 
ing.   01(1  Trouncer.  Long  nights.  A  welcome  to  Winter. 

SUBJECT  ;    SCENia    OF    .HTrjIS.  —  SWISEOERD  ;    HCXTSMiX. 

Again,  iIh-  y.  :n'-  li.j.linc,  midst  storms  and  floods 
The  tliiiiil'  I  iiiL'    111     ,  ihc  yellow  fading  woods, 
Inviti-  iii\  ■  11^  .   tii.ii  hiiii  would  boldly  tell 
Of  upland  cvcri..  ,iw\  the  echoing  dell, 
By  turns  resounding  loud,  at  eve  and  morn, 
The  swineherd's  halloo,  or  tho  huntsman's  born. 

NEW-FALLBS    MAST  }    SOW    ASD    PIOS    FEKDINO   OS  ACORNS. 

No  more  the  fields  with  scattered  grain  supply 
Tho  restless  wandering  tenants  of  tbo  sly  ; 
From  oak  to  oak  they  run  with  eager  haste, 
And,  wrangling,  share  the  first  delicious  taste 
Of  fallen  acorns  ;  yet  but  thinly  found. 
Till  tho  strong  gale  have  shook  them  to  tho  ground ; 
It  oomcs  ;  and  roaring  woods  obodiont  wave  : 
Their  homo    well    pleased   the    joint    adventurers 
leave  : 


The  trudging  sow  leads  forth  he 
Playful,  and  white,  and  clean,  tho  briers  among. 
Till  briers  and  thorns,  increasing,  fenco  them  round. 
Where  last  year's  mouldering  loaves  bestrew  the 

ground  ; 
And  o'er  their  heads,  loud  lashed  by  furious  squalls, 
Bright  from  their  cups  tho  rattling  treasure  falls. 


not  thirsty  food  !  whence  doubly  sweet  and  cool 
The  welcome  margin  of  some  rush-grown  pool, 
Tho  wild  duck's  lonoly  haunt,  whoso  jealous  eye 
Guards  every  point  ;  who  sits  prepared  to  fly, 
On  the  calm  bosom  of  her  little  lake. 
Too  closely  screened  for  ruflian  winds  to  shako  ; 
And  as  tho  bold  intruders  press  around. 
At  onco  she  starts  nnd  rises  with  a  bound  : 
With  bristles  raised  tho  sudden  noise  they  hear, 
And,  ludicrously  wild,  and  winged  with  fear, 
Tho  herd  decamp  with  more  than  swinish  speed, 
And  snorting  dash  through  sedge,  and  rush,  and 

Through  tangling  thickets  headlong  on  they  go, 
Then  stop  and  listen  for  their  fancied  foe  ; 


332 


RURAL  POETRY. BLOOMFIELD. 


The  hindmost  still  the  growing  panic  spreads, 

Repeated  fright  the  first  alarm  succeeds, 

Till  folly's  wages,  wounds  and  thorns,  they  reap  : 

Yet  glorying  in  their  fortunate  escape, 

Their  groundless  terrors  by  degrees  soon  cease. 

And  night's  dark  reign  restores  their  wonted  peace. 

THE  HOG'S  NEST  AT    Nionr  ;    THE  PHEASANT  j    GILES'S  VAIN 
SEARCH   FOE  THE  SWINE. 

For  now  the  gale  subsides,  and  from  each  bough 
The  roosting  pheasant's  short  but  frequent  crow 
Invites  to  rest ;  and  huddling  side  by  side 
The  herd  in  closest  ambush  seek  to  hide  ; 
Seek  some  warm  slope  with  shagged  moss  o'erspread, 
Dried  leaves  their  copious  covering  and  their  bed. 
In  vain  may  Giles,  through  gathering  glooms  that 
And  solemn  silence,  urge  his  piercing  call  ;       [fall, 
Whole  days  and  nights  they  tarry  midst  their  store. 
Nor  quit  the  woods  till  oaks  can  yield  no  more. 

WI.NTER-WHEAT  ;     HOW    TO     PROTECT    IT    WHEN    SOWN    IN 

Beyond  bleak  Winter's  rage,  beyond  the  Spring 
That  rolling  earth's  unvarying  course  will  bring, 
Who  tills  the  ground,  looks  on  with  mental  eye, 
And  sees  next  Summer's  sheaves  and  cloudless  sky  ; 
And  even  now,  whilst  Nature's  beauty  dies, 
Deposits  seed,  and  bids  new  harvests  rise  ; 
Seed  well  prepared,  and  warmed  with  glowing  lime, 
'Gainst  earth-bred  grubs,  and  cold,  and  lapse  of 

For  searching  frosts  and  various  ills  invade, 
Whilst  wintry  months  depress  the  springing  blade. 


The  plough  moves  heavily,  and  strong  the  soil, 
And  clogging  harrows  with  augmented  toil 
Dive  deep  ;  and  clinging,  mixes  with  the  mould 
A  fattening  treasure  from  the  nightly  fold. 
And  all  the  cow-yard's  highly  valued  store, 
That  late  bestrewed  the  blackened  surface  o'er. 
No  idling  hours  are  here,  when  fancy  trims 
Her  dancing  taper  over  outstretched  limbs. 
And  in  her  thousand  thousand  colors  drest, 
Plays  round  the  grassy  couch  of  noontide  rest : 
Here  Giles  for  hours  of  indolence  atones 
With  strong  exertion,  and  with  weary  bones, 
And  knows  no  leisure  ;  till  the  distant  chime 
Of  Sabbath  bells  he  hears  at  sermon  time. 
That  down  the  brook  sound  sweetly  in  the  gale. 
Or  strike  the  rising  hill,  or  skim  the  dale. 

THE   parson's  horse  ;    THE  RCDE  CHAPEL  *    DAWS. 

Nor  bis  alone  the  sweets  of  ease  to  taste  : 
Kind  rest  extends  to  all  ;  —save  one  poor  beast. 
That,  trae  to  time  and  pace,  is  doomed  to  plod. 
To  bring  the  pastor  to  the  house  of  God  : 
Mean  structure  ;  where  no  bones  of  heroes  lie  ! 
The  rude  inelegance  of  poverty 
Reigns  here  alone  :  else  why  that  roof  of  straw  ? 


Those  narrow  windows  with  the  frequent  flaw  ? 
O'er  whose  low  cells  the  dock  and  mallow  spread, 
And  rampant  nettles  lift  the  spiry  head, 
Whilst  from  the  hollows  of  the  tower  on  high 
The  gray-capped  daws  in  saucy  legions  fly. 

THE  GRAVES  ABOCT  THE  CHAPEL  J  SC.NTJAY  TALK  OF  FARMERS  ; 

Round  these  lone  walls  assembling  neighbors  meet, 
And  tread  departed  friends  beneath  their  feet ; 
And  new-briered  graves,  that  prompt  the  secret  sigh, 
Show  each  the  spot  where  he  himself  must  lie. 
Midst  timely  greetings  village  news  goes  round, 
Of  crops  late  shorn,  or  crops  that  deck  the  ground  ; 
Experienced  ploughmen  in  the  circle  join  ; 
While  sturdy  boys,  in  feats  of  strength  to  shine. 
With  pride  elate,  their  young  associates  brave 
To  jump  from  hollow-sounding  grave  to  grave  ; 
Then  close  consulting,  each  his  talent  lends 
To  plan  fresh  sports  when  tedious  service  ends. 

THE   VILLAGE  MAIDS  ;   THEIR   ERRAND   AT   CHURCH. 

Hither  at  times,  with  cheerfulness  of  soul, 
Sweet  village  maids  from  neighboring  hamlets  stroll, 
That,  like  the  light-heeled  does  o'er  lawns  that  rove. 
Look  shyly  curious  ;  ripening  into  love  ; 
For  love 's  their  errand  :  hence  the  tints  that  glow 
On  either  cheek  an  heightened  lustre  know  : 
When,  conscious  of  their  charms,  e'en  Age  looks  sly; 
And  rapture  beams  from  Youth's  observant  eye. 


The  pride  of  such  a  party,  Nature's  pride, 
Was  lovely  Poll  ;'  who  innocently  tried. 
With  hat  of  airy  shape  and  ribbons  gay. 
Love  to  inspire,  and  stand  in  Hymen's  way  : 
But  ere  her  twentieth  summer  could  expand. 
Or  youth  was  rendered  happy  with  her  hand. 
Her  mind's  serenity  was  lost  and  gone. 
Her  eye  grew  languid,  and  she  wept  alone  ; 
Yet  causeless  seemed  her  grief;  for  quick  restrained. 
Mirth  followed  loud,  or  indignation  reigned  : 
Whims  wild  and  simple  led  her  from  her  home. 
The  heath,  the  common,  or  the  fields,  to  roam  : 
Terror  and  joy  alternate  ruled  her  hours  ; 
Now  blithe  she  sung,  and  gathered  useless  flowers  ; 
Now  plucked  a  tender  twig  from  every  bough, 
To  whip  the  hovering  demons  from  her  brow. 
Ill-fated  maid  !  thy  guiding  spark  is  fled. 

And  lasting  wretchedness  awaits  thy  bed 

Thy  bed  of  straw  !  for  mark,  where  even  now 
O'er  their  lost  child  afflicted  parents  bow  ; 
Their  woe  she  knows  not,  but,  perversely  coy. 
Inverted  customs  yield  her  sullen  joy. 
Her  midnight  meals  in  secrecy  she  takes, 
Low  muttering  to  the  moon,  that  rising  breaks 
Through  night's  dark  gloom  :  —  0,  how  much  more 

forlorn 
Her  night,  that  knows  of  no  returning  dawn  !  — 
1  Mary  Raynor,  of  Ixworth  Thorp,  or  Tillage. 


ABTUMN  —  OCTOBER. 


838 


Slow  from  tho  throsholJ,  once  her  infant  seat, 

Cor  tho  cold  earth  sho  crawla  tci  her  retreat ; 

Quitting  the  cot's  wann  walls  unhoused  to  lie, 

Or  £>hare  the  swine's  impure  and  narrow  sty  ; 

Tho  damp  night  air  her  shivering  limbs  assails  ; 

In  dreams  she  moans,  and  fancied  wrongs  bewails. 

When  morning  wakes,  none  earlier  roused  than  she, 

AVhen  pendent  drops  fall  glittering  from  the  tree, 

But  naught  her  rayless  melancholy  cheers. 

Or  soothes  her  breast,  or  stops  her  streaming  tears. 

Her  matted  locks  unornainented  flow  ; 

Clasping  her  knees,  and  waving  to  and  fro  ;  — 

Her  head  bowed  down,  her  faded  checks  to  hide  j  — 

A  piteous  mourner  by  the  pathway  side. 

Some  tufted  molehill  through  the  livelong  day 

Sho  calls  her  throne;  there  weeps  her  life  away  : 

And  oft  the  gayly  passing  stranger  stays 

Ilis  well-timed  step,  and  takes  a  silent  gaze, 

Till  sympathetic  drops  unbidden  start, 

And  pangs  quick  springing  muster  round  his  heart; 

And  soft  he  treads  with  other  gazers  round. 

And  fain  would  catch  her  sorrow's  plaintive  sound. 

One  word  alone  is  all  that  strikes  tho  ear. 

One  short,  pathetic,  simple  word,  — '  0  dear  ! ' 

A  thousand  times  repeated  to  the  wind. 

That  wafts  the  sigh,  but  leaves  the  pang  behind  ! 

Forever  of  the  proffered  parley  shy. 
She  hears  the  unwelcome  foot  advancing  nigh  ; 
Nor  quite  unconscious  of  her  wretched  plight. 
Gives  one  sad  look,  and  hurries  out  of  sight. 


Fair  promised  sunbeams  of  terrestrial  bliss. 
Health's  gallant  hopes,  —  and  are  ye  sunk  to  this 
For  in  life's  road  though  thorns  abundant  grow. 
There  still  are  joys  poor  Poll  can  never  know  ; 
Joys  which  the  gay  companions  of  her  prime 
Sip,  as  they  drift  along  the  stream  of  tirao  ; 
At  eve  to  hear  beside  their  tranquil  homo 
The  lifted  latch,  that  speaks  the  lover  come  : 
That  love  matured,  next  playful  on  the  knee 
To  press  tho  velvet  lip  of  infancy  ; 
To  stay  tho  tottering  step,  the  features  trace  ;  — 
Inestimable  sweets  of  social  peace  ! 


0  Thou,  who  bidst  the  vernal  juices  rise  ! 
Thou,  on  whoso  blosta  autumnal  foliage  flics  ! 
Let  peace  ne'er  leave  me,  nor  my  heart  grow  cold. 
Whilst  life  and  sanity  are  mine  to  hold. 

CARB  or  Tns  LATB-IUTCDBD  CUICKENS,  ETC. 

Shorn  of  their  flowers  that  shed  the  untreasurod 

The  withiTing  pasture,  and  tho  fading  mead, 
Less  tempting  grown,  diminish  more  and  more, 
Tho  dairy's  pride  ;  sweet'Summer's  flowing  store. 
New  cares  succeed,  and  gentle  duties  press. 
Where  tho  fireside,  a  school  of  tenderness, 
Revires  the  languid  chirp,  and  warms  tho  blood 


Of  eold-nipped  weaklings  of  tho  latter  brood. 
That,  from  tho  shell  just  bursting  into  day, 
Through  yard  or  pond  pursue  their  venturous  way. 


I'll  V,   ;  '  ■■  I  ,  ;i.r  scenes  expand  ; 

Wli  r  I M  u- -sown  land  ! 

'  111  I'",  Giles,  and  guard 

Tlir  1 1  ;i  .;  ;     jr.'iit  reward  : 

A  future  .-u.-tcmuicc,  a  iuiumur's  pride. 
Demand  thy  vigilance  :  then  be  it  tried  ; 
Exert  thy  voice,  and  wield  thy  shotless  gun  : 
Go,  tarry  there  from  morn  till  setting  sun.' 

GILES    BnX.D3  A  HIT    OF    STKAW    ASD    TIB7,  LIKE    CRCSOB, 

Keen  blows  the  blast,  or  ceaseless  rain  descends  ; 
Tho  half-stripped  hedge  a  sorry  shelter  lends. 
0  for  a  hovel,  o'er  so  small  or  low, 
■\Vhose  roof,  repelling  winds  and  early  snow, 
Might  bring  home's  comforts  fresh  before  his  eyes  ! 
No  sooner  thought,  than  see  the  structure  rise, 
In  some  sequestered  nook,  embanked  around, 
Sods  for  its  walls,  and  straw  in  burdens  bound  : 
Dried  fuel  hoarded  is  his  richest  store. 
And  circling  smoke  obscures  his  little  door  ; 
Whence  creeping  forth,  to  duty's  call  he  yields. 
And  strolls  tho  Crusoe  of  the  lonely  fields. 

ms  nosprrABiE  feast  of  iiah-s  and  sloes  ;  disappolnted 


On  whitethorns  towering,  and  the  leafless  rose, 
A  frost-nipped  feast  in  bright  vermilion  glows  : 
Whore  clu.-itcrinj;  sloes  in  glossy  order  rii-e. 

He  .ri.iii  ih.'  I Ir,|  branch  ;  a  cumbrous  prize  ; 

.\ni|  ..'i  r  111.  lliiiiir  llio  .sputtering  fruit  he  rests, 

riariii:  jM  1  11    •  U  t..  seat  his  coming  guests  ; 

Hi-  111     '    I  .   I  1    iiii-c  ;  playmates  young  and  gay  : 

ilm,    1    '    in  .  tnin.'s  luro  their  steps  away  ! 

Ill  ih.  iind  homeward  looks  in  vain. 

Till,  1  1    iL^  ai-.4  I'-'intment's  cruel  pain. 

His  fairy  ruvcls  are  exchanged  for  rage. 

His  banquet  marred,  grown  dull  his  hermitage. 

Tho  fieUl  becomes  his  prison,  till  on  high 

Bcniglited  birds  to  shades  and  coverts  fly. 

Jlidst  air,  health,  daylight,  can  ho  prisoner  be  ? 

If  fields  arc  prisons,  where  is  liberty  ? 

Hero  still  she  dwells,  and  hero  her  votaries  stroll  ; 


But  disappointed  hope  untunes  tho  soul  : 
Restraints  unfelt  whilst  hours  of  rapture  flow. 
When  troubles  press,  to  chains  and  barriers  grow. 
Look,  then,  from  trivial  up  to  greater  woes  ; 
From  the  poor  bird-boy  with  his  roasted  sloes. 
To  where  the  dungeoned  mourner  heaves  tho  sigh  ; 
Where  not  ono  cheering  sunbeam  meets  his  eye. 
Though  inefiectual  pity  thine  may  be. 
No  wealth,  no  power,  to  set  the  captive  free  ; 
Though  only  to  thy  ravished  sight  is  given 
The  golden  path  that  Howard  trod  to  heaven  ; 


334 


RURAL    POETRY. BLOOMFIELD. 


Thy  slights  can  make  the  wretched  more  forlorn, 
And  deeper  drive  affliction's  barbed  thorn. 

VISIT  THE  PRISONER,  AND  DISAPPOINT  HIM  NOT. 

Say  not,  •  I  '11  come  and  cheer  thy  gloomy  cell 
With  news  of  dearest  friends;  how  good,  how  well  : 
I  '11  bo  a  joyful  herald  to  thine  heart : ' 
Then  fail,  and  play  the  worthless  trifler's  part. 
To  sip  flat  pleasures  from  thy  glass's  brim, 
And  waste  the  precious  hour  that's  due  to  him  ! 
In  mercy  spare  the  base,  unmanly  blow  : 
Where  can  he  turn,  to  whom  complain  of  you  ? 
Back  to  past  joys  in  vain  his  thoughts  may  stray. 
Trace  and  retrace  the  beaten,  worn-out  way. 
The  rankling  injury  will  pierce  his  breast, 
And  curses  on  thee  break  his  midnight  rest. 


Bereft  of  song,  and  ever  cheering  green. 
The  soft  endearments  of  the  Summer  scene. 
New  harmony  pervades  tho  solemn  wood. 
Dear  to  the  soul,  and  healthful  to  the  blood  : 
For  bold  exertion  follows  on  the  sound 
Of  distant  sportsmen,  and  the  chiding  hound  ; 
First  heard  from  kennel  bursting,  mad  with  joy, 
Where  smiling  Euston  boasts  her  good  Fitzroy, 
Lord  of  pure  alms,  and  gifts  that  wide  extend  ; 
Tho  farmer's  patron,  and  the  poor  man's  friend  ; 
Whoso  mansion  glittering  with  the  eastern  ray. 
Whose  elevated  temple  points  the  way, 
O'er  slopes  and  lawns,  the  park's  extensive  pride," 
To  where  the  victims  of  the  chase  reside. 
Ingulfed  in  earth,  in  conscious  safety  warm. 
Till,  lo!  a  plot  portends  their  coming  harm. 

THE   FOX-HONT  ;     THE    FOX    BLOCKED    OUT  ;     STARTED    FROM 

In  earliest  hours  of  dark,  unhooded  morn. 
Ere  yet  one  rosy  cloud  bespeaks  the  dawn, 
Whilst  far  abroad  the  fox  pursues  his  prey. 
He  's  doomed  to  risk  the  perils  of  the  day. 
From  his  strong  hold  blocked  out;  perhaps  to  bleed. 
Or  owe  his  life  to  fortune  or  to  speed. 
For  now  the  pack,  impatient  rushing  on. 
Range  through  the  darkest  coverts  one  by  one  ; 
Trace  every  spot ;  whilst  down  each  noble  glade. 
That  guides  the  eye  beneath  a  changeful  shade, 
The  loitering  sportsman  feels  the  instinctive  dame, 
And  checks  his  steed  to  mark  the  springing  game. 
Midst  intersecting  cuts  and  winding  ways 
The  huntsman  cheers  his  dogs,  and  anxious  strays 
Where  every  narrow  riding,  even  shorn. 
Gives  back  the  echo  of  his  mellow  horn  ; 
Till  fresh  and  lightsome,  every  power  untried. 
The  starting  fugitive  leaps  by  his  side. 
His  lifted  finger  to  his  ear  he  plies. 
And  tho  View-halloo  bids  a  chorus  rise 
Of  dogs  quiek-mouthcd  and  shouts  that  mingle  loud. 
As  bursting  thunder  rolls  from  cloud  to  cloud. 


THE  HORSE  IN  THE  CHASE ;  THE  VILLAGERS  TURN  OUT. 

With  ears  erect,  and  chest  of  vigorous  mould. 
O'er  ditch,  o'er  fence,  unconquerably  bold, 
The  shining  courser  lengthens  every  bound. 
And  his  strong  foot-locks  suck  the  moistened  ground. 
As  from  the  confines  of  the  wood  they  pour. 
And  joyous  villages  partake  the  roar. 
O'er  heath  far  stretched,  or  down,  or  valley  low, 
The  stiff-limbed  peasant,  glorying  in  the  show. 
Pursues  in  vain  ;  where  youth  itself  soon  tires. 
Spite  of  the  transports  that  the  chase  inspires  ; 
For  who  unmounted  long  can  charm  the  eye. 
Or  hear  the  music  of  the  leading  cry  ? 

THE  FOX-HOUND  TROUNCER  ;    HIS  EXPLOITS. 

Poor  faithful  Trouncer!  thou  canst  lead  no  more; 
All  thy  fatigues  and  all  thy  triumphs  o'er  ! 
Triumphs  of  worth,  whose  honorary  fame 
Was  still  to  follow  true  the  hunted  game  ; 
Beneath  enormous  oaks,  Britannia's  boast. 
In  thick,  impenetrable  coverts  lost. 
When  the  warm  pack  in  faltering  silence  stood. 
Thine  was  the  note  that  roused  the  listening  wood, 
Rekindling  every  joy  with  ten-fold  force. 
Through  all  the  mazes  of  the  tainted  course. 
Still  foremost  thou  the  dashing  stream  to  cross. 
And  tempt  along  the  animated  horse  ; 
Foremost  o'er  fen  or  level  mead  to  pass. 
And  sweep  the  showering  dew-drops  from  the  gra«s; 
Then  bright  emerging  from  the  mist  below 
To  climb  the  woodland  hill's  exulting  brow. 


Pride  of  thy  raoe  !  with  worth  far  less  than  thine. 
Full  many  human  leaders  daily  shine  ! 
Less  faith,  less  constancy,  less  generous  zeal !  — 
Then  no  disgrace  mine  humble  verse  shall  feel, 
Where  not  one  lying  line  to  riches  bows. 
Or  poisoned  sentiment  from  rancor  flows  ; 
Nor  flowers  are  strewn  around  Ambition's  ear  :  — 
An  honest  dog 's  a  nobler  theme  by  far. 
Each  sportsman  heard  the  tidings  with  a  sigh, 
When  death's  cold  touch  had  stopped  his  tuneful 

cry  ; 
And  though  high  deeds,  and  fair  exalted  praise. 
In  memory  lived,  and  flowed  in  rustic  lays. 
Short  was  the  strain  of  monumental  woo  : 
*  Foxes,  rejoice  I  here  buried  lies  your  foe.'  ^ 


In  safety  housed  throughout  night's  lengthening 
reign, 
The  cock  sends  forth  a  loud  and  piercing  strain  ; 
More  frequent,  as  the  glooms  of  midnight  flee. 
And  hours  roll  round,  that  brought  him  liberty. 
When  Summer's  early  dawn,  mild,  clear,  and  bright. 
Chased  quick  away  the  transitory  night : 


1  Inscribed  c 


1  Euston  Park  wall. 


AUTUMN  —  OCTOBER. 


885 


Hours  now  in  darkness  veiled  ;  yet  loud  the  soroam 
Of  gccso  impatient  for  the  playful  stream  ; 
And  all  the  feathered  tribe  imprisoned  raise 
Their  morning  notes  of  inliarmimious  praise  j 
And  many  a  clamorous  hen  and  cockerel  gay, 
When  daylight  slowly  through  the  fog  breaks  way, 
Fly  wantonly  abroad  :  but,  ah,  how  soon 
The  shades  of  twilight  follow  hazy  noon, 
Shortening  the  busy  day  !  —  day  that  slides  by 
Amidst  the  unfinished  toils  of  husbandry  ; 
Toils  still  each  morn  resumed  with  double  care, 
To  meet  the  icy  terrors  of  the  year, 


To  meet  the  throats  of  Boreas  undismayed, 
And  Winter's  gathering  frowns  and  hoary  head. 

WBLCOUB  TO  WISTBR  J  n0P«  FOB  TOB  POOR. 

Then  welcome,  cold  ;  welcome,  ye  snowy  nights  ! 
Heaven,  midst  your  rage,  shall  mingle  pure  delights, 
And  confidence  of  hope  the  soul  sustain, 
M'hile  devastation  sweeps  along  the  plain  : 
Nor  shall  the  child  of  poverty  despair. 
But  bless  the  Power  that  rules  the  changing  year  ; 
Assured,— though  horrors  round  his  cottage  reign,— 
That  Spring  will  come,  and  Nature  smile  again. 


a  usscr's   "(['October's    .iljuslKinh-ii." 


Octoher,  Rood  blast  Forgotten,  month  past, 

To  Wluw  the  hog  mast.  Do  now  at  the  last. 

Now  lay  up'  thy  barley-land,  dry  as  ye  can,  *  * 
Get  daily  beforehand,  bo  never  behind.  *  * 
Green  rye  in  September,  when  timely  thou  hast, 
October  for  wheat-sowing  ciilleth  a^^  fast : 
If  weather  will  sulV.  i ,  i!ii-  .  ,,,1,1.  1  T  give, 
Leave  sowing  of  \\li:'    i    !   ;■    1 1  il  I'wriias  eve.*  *  * 
Yet  where,  how  in,  I  i  :       I  tn  begin, 

Let  ever  the  finest  1-v  liia  .    ulu  ui. 
Who  soweth  in  rain,  he  shall  reap  it  with  tears  ; 
Who  soweth  in  harms,  ho  is  ever  in  fears  ; 
Who  soweth  ill  seed,  or  defraudeth  his  land. 
Hath  eyesore  abroad,  with  a  corrie  at  hand.  *  * 
Seed  husbandly  sowcn,  water-furrow  thy  ground. 
That  rain,  when  it  eometh,  may  run  away  round.  ** 
As  land  full  of  tilth,  and  in  hearty  good  plight. 
Yields  blade  to  a  length,  and  increasoth  in  might ; 
So  crop  upon  crop,  on  whose  courage  wo  doubt, 
Y'ields  blade  for  a  brag,  but  it  holdcth  not  out. 
The  straw  and  tho  ear  to  have  bigness  and  length 
Betokencth  land  to  bo  good  and  in  strength.  *  * 
White  wheat  or  else  red,  red  rivet  or  white. 
Far  passeth  all  other,  for  land  that  is  light  j 
White  pollard  or  red,  that  so  richly  is  set, 
For  land  that  is  heavy,  is  best  ye  eon  get. 
Main  wheat,  that  is  mixed  with  white  and  with  red, 
Is  ne.vt  to  the  best,  in  tho  market-man's  head  : 
To  Turkey  or  Purkcy  wheat  many  do  love. 
Because  it  is  floury,  as  others  above. 
Gray  wheat  is  tho  grossest,  yet  good  for  tho  clay. 
Though  worst  for  the  nuvrket,  as  farmer  will  say  ; 
Much  like  unto  rye,  be  his  properties  found. 
Coarse  flour,  much  bran,  and  a  peeler^  of  ground. 
Oats,  rye,  or  else  barley,  and  wheat  that  is  gray. 
Brings  land  out  of  comfort,  and  soon  to  decay. 

1  To  '  lay  up '  is  to  cover  the  ridge  baulk  by  two  opposite 
furrows,  to  shed  water. 

-  Wheat  is  sown  in  England  from  mid-August  to  mid- 
Deceniber,  but  chiefly  in  October  ;  the  compiler  has  sown 
winter-wheat  in  northern  Illinois  as  late  as  Nov.  13.  —  J. 

3  To  '  peel '  Is  to  spend  or  exhaust. 


'  One  after  another,  no  comfort  between, 
I  Is  crop  upon  crop,  as  will  quickly  be  seen. 
Still  crop  upon  crop  many  farmers  do  take. 
And  reap  littlo  profit,  for  greediness'  sake,     [stand. 
Though  bread-corn  and  drink-corn,'  such  croppcrsdo 
Count  peason  or  l)r:uik,'  us  a  o.mfort  to  land.  *  * 
Some  useth  iit  lii-i  :i  ._•' -   1  1  ill   iv  to  make,' 
To  sow  there'll  1  .■,:   ^    1       1    11.  r  to  take 

Ne.itt  that  t 1  ili:it  to  sow  wheat. 

Then  fallow  i.- ill,  '  >'-  ,„:,i,4 

When  barky  y^    ■■«.  ;  ,  .t. 

If  land  be  null. -1...  1  * 

Where  rye,  >.!■  rl-,' ivhi  ,•  .^'S-iw, 

Let  codware^  be  ne.\t,  tbcrruiH.n  t.n-  tu  grow. 
Two  crops  of  a  fallow  enrieheth  tho  plough  ; 
Though  t'  one  be  of  peas,  it  is  land  good  enough. 
One  crop  and  a  fallow  ^  some  soil  will  abide. 
When,  if  ye  go  further,  lay  profit  aside.  *  * 
Good  bread-corn  and  drink-corn  full  twenty  weeks 
Is  better  than  new,  that  at  harvest  is  reapt;     [kept 
But  foisty  the  bread-corn,  and  bowd-eaten'  malt. 
For  health  or  for  profit,  find  noisome  thou  shalt. 
By  the  end  of  October  go  gather  up  sloes. 
Have  thou  in  a  readiness  plenty  of  those  ; 
And  keep  them  in  bed-straw,  or  still  on  tho  bough. 
To  stay  both  tho  fli.t,*  of  thyself  and  the  cow. 
Seeth  water  and  plump  therein  plenty  of  sloes; 
Mi.t  chalk  that  is  dried,  in  powder  with  those  ; 
AVhich  so,  if  ye  give,  with  tho  water  and  chalk, 
Thou  makest  the  lax  from  thy  cow  away  walk. 
Bo  suer  of  vergis»  (a  gallon  at  least), 
So  good  for  the  kitchen,  so  needful  for  beast : 
It  hclpcth  thy  cattlo,  so  feeble  and  faint. 
If  timely  such  cattlo  with  it  thou  acquaint. 

1  Wheat  and  barley.  =  Buckwheat. 

3  Except  in  common-flelds,  fallowing  is  justly  exploded  by 
all  good  fanners Mavob,  Mem.  British  Bd.  of  Agricutt. 

*  This  was  written  in  1S57,  it  will  be  recoliccU'd. 

»  Codwarc  Is  beans  or  peas-,  the  former  for  a  slilT,  the  lat- 
ter for  a  lighter  soil.  »  '  Kuinous,'  says  Mavor. 
'  Weevil^aten.  *  Looseness  of  the  bowels. 

•  Juice  of  crab-apples,  or  crab-juice. 


lastonil  for   (Drtohr. 


KAMSAY'S  "RICHY  AND  SANDY."  > 

ON    THE   DEATH    OF   MR.    ADDISON. 

What  gars  thee  look  sae  dowf,  dear  Sandy,  say? 
Cheer  up,  dull  fellow,  take  thy  reed  and  play 
'  My  apron  deary,'  or  some  wanton  tune  ! 
Be  merry,  lad,  and  keep  thy  heart  aboon  ! 

SiSDT. 

Na,  na,  it  winna  do  !  leave  me  to  mane  : 
This  aught  days  twice  o'er  telled  I'll  whistle  nane. 

Wow,  man,  that 's  unco'  sad  !  —  Is 't  that  ye'r  jo 
Has  ta'en  the  strunt?     Or  has  some  bogle-bo, 
Slowrin  frae  'mang  auld  wa's,  gi'en  ye  a  fleg  ? 
Or  has  some  dauted  wedder  broke  his  leg? 


Naething  like   that,  —  sic    troubles    eith   were 

What 's  bogles,  wedders,  or  what  Mausy's  scorn  ? 
Our  loss  is  meikle  mair,  and  past  remead  : 
Adie,  that  played  and  sang  sae  sweet,  is  dead. 

Dead  !  say'st  thou  ?  —  0,  had  up  my  heart,  0  Pan  ! 
Te  gods,  what  laids  ye  lay  on  feckless  man  ! 
Alake  therefore  !  I  canna  wyt  ye're  wae  ; 
I  '11  bear  ye  company  for  year  and  day. 
A  better  lad  ne'er  leaned  out  o'er  a  kent, 
Or  hounded  coly  o'er  the  mossy  bent. 
Blyth  at  the  bught  how  aft  ha'e  we  three  been, 
Heartsome  on  hills,  and  gay  upon  the  green. 


That's  true  indeed  !  But  now  thae  days  are  gane. 
And,  with  him,  a'  that 's  pleasant  on  the  plain. 
A  summer  day  I  never  thought  it  lang. 
To  hear  him  make  a  roundel  or  a  sang. 
How  sweet  he  sung  where  vines  and  myrtles  grow, 
Of  wimbling  waters  which  in  Latium  flow. " 
Titry  the  Mantuan  herd,  wha  lang  sinsyne 
Best  sung  on  aeten  reed  the  lover's  pine, 
Had  he  been  to  the  fore  now  in  our  days, 
Wi'  Adie  he  had  frankly  dealt  his  bays. 
As  lang  's  the  warld  shall  Amaryllis  ken, 
His  Rosamond  '  shall  echo  through  the  glen  ; 
While  on  burn  banks  the  yellow  gowan  grows. 
Or  wand'ring  lambs  rin  bleating  after  ewes, 
His  fame  shall  last ;  last  shall  his  sang  of  weirs,* 
While  British  bairns  brag  of  their  bauld  forbears. 
Wo  '11  meikle  miss  his  blyth  and  witty  jest. 
At  spaining  time,  or  at  our  Lambmass  feast. 

1  Bir  Richard  Steele  and  Jlr.  Alcx.-vnilcr  Pope. 

=  His  pui'tic  epistle  from  Italy  to  the  Karl  of  Halifax. 

3  An  oiiera  written  by  him.    *•  His  '  Campaigo,'  a  poem. 


0,  Eichy  !  but 't  is  hard  that  Death  aye  reaves 
Away  the  best  fowk,  and  the  ill  anes  leaves  ! 
Hing  down  yer  heads,  ye  hills ;  greet  out,  ye  springs 
Upon  yer  edge  na  mair  the  shepherd  sings  ! 

Then  he  had  aye  a  good  advice  to  gie. 
And  kend  my  thoughts  amaist  as  well  as  me. 
Had  I  been  thowloss,  vest,  or  oughtlins  sour, 
He  wad  have  made  mo  blyth  in  half  an  hour  ; 
Had  Rosie  ta'en  the  dorts,  or  had  the  tod 
Worry'd  my  lambs,  or  were  my  feet  ill-shod. 
Kindly  he  'd  laugh  when  sae  he  saw  me  dwine. 
And  talk  .of  happiness  like  a  divine. 
Of  ilka  thing  he  had  an  unco'  skill  ; 
Ho  kend  by  moonlight  how  tides  ebb  and  fill  ; 
Ho  kend  (what  kend  he  no  ?)  e'en  to  a  hair 
He  'd  tell  or  night  gin  neist  day  wad  be  fair. 
Blind  John,'  ye  mind,  wha  sung  in  kittle  phrase, 
How  the  ill  sp'rit  did  the  first  mischief  raise  ; 
Mony  a  time,  beneath  the  auld  birk-tree, 
What 's  bonny  in  that  sang  he  loot  me  see. 
The  lasses  aft  flung  down  their  rakes  and  pails. 
And  held  their  tongues,  0  strange  !  to  hear  his  tales. 

Sound  be  his  sleep,  and  saft  his  wak'ning  be  ! 
He 's  in  a  better  case  than  thee  or  me. 
He  was  o'er  good  for  us  ;  the  gods  hae  ta'en 
Their  ain  but  back,  —  he  was  a  borrowed  len. 
Let  us  be  good,  gin  virtue  be  our  drift, 
Then  we  may  yet  forgethor  'boon  the  lift. 

But  see,  the  sheep  are  wysing  to  the  cleugh  ; 
Thomas  has  loos'd  his  ousen  frae  the  plough  ; 
Maggy  by  this  has  bcwk  the  supper-scones  ; 
And  muokle  kye  stand  rowting  in  the  loans  ; 
Come,  Richy,  let  us  truse  and  hame  o'er  bend. 
And  make  the  best  of  what  we  canna  mend. 

1  The  famous  Milton  •,  he  was  blind. 

Glossary. —Gai-s,  causes  ;  dowf,  dull;  aboon,  above  ; 
mane,  moan  ;  aught,  eight ',  unco,  very  ;  jo,  sweetheart ; 
bogle-bo,  bugbear  spirit ;  glowrin,  staring  ■,  fiep,  fright  ; 
dauted,  fondled  ;  wedder,  wether  ;  eith,  easily  •,  meilile 
mair, -much  more;  remead,  remedy  ;  had,  hold  ;  laids, 
loads  ;  feckless,  feeble  ;  wyt,  shun,  remove  ;  kent,  shep- 
herd's staSf  1  coly,  shepherd's  dog  ;  lient,  opin  field  ;  bvigllt, 
sheepTold,  pen  ■,    rnuii.l.  I,  mnmlr'n-  :  mm-M-v.  ivmlmg  ; 


lins,  any  lit 


^wwsUin^'s   "%x\   of   il)ca' 


EXERCTSE. 

TuROCoii  various  toils  th'  adventurous  Muso  has 
past ; 
But  half  tho  toil,  and  more  than  half,  remains. 
Rude  is  her  theme,  and  havdly  fit  for  song  ; 
Plain  and  of  little  ornament ;  and  I 
But  little  practised  in  tho  Aonian  arts  : 
Yet  not  in  vain  sueh  labors  have  we  tried. 
If  aught  these  lays  the  fickle  Health  confirm. 
To  you,  yo  delicate  !  I  write  ;  for  you 
I  tame  my  youth  to  philosophic  cares, 
And  grow  still  paler  by  tho  midnight  lamp. 
Not  to  debilitate  with  timorous  rules 
A  hardy  frame  ;  nor  ncwllossly  to  bravo 

Inglorious  dang,  r     ■-■■■■'  "'  '-'  strength. 

Is  all  the  lessou  i !  ,^  '-•''" 

Concerns  tho  sti-  '"  bestowed 

M'ho  would  with  >■  nurse 

Tho  thriving  oak  «l,i.h_,  ...i  the  i.n.untain's  brow, 
Bears  all  the  blasts  that  sweep  tho  wintry  heaven. 

HEALTU  OF  THE  LABORER. —ISDIKFEBEST  TO  CHASGES. 

Behold  tho  laborer  of  the  glebe  who  toils 
In  dust,  in  rain,  in  cold  and  sultry  skies  : 
Save  but  the  grain  from  mildews  and  the  flood. 
Naught  anxious  he  what  sickly  stars  ascend. 
He  knows  no  laws  by  Esculapius  given  ; 
Ue  studies  none.     Yet  him  nor  midnight  fogs 
Infest,  nor  those  envenomed  shafts  that  fly 
When  rapid  Sirius  fires  the  autumnal  noon. 
His  habit  pure  with  plain  and  temperate  meals. 
Robust  with  labor,  and  by  custom  steeled 
To  every  casualty  of  varied  life  ; 
Serene  he  bears  the  peevish  eastern  blast. 
And  uninfected  breathes  tho  mortal  south. 


Como,  my  companions,  yo  who  feel  tho  charms 
Of  nature  and  the  year  ;  eomo,  let  us  stray 
Where  chance  or  fancy  leads  our  roving  walk  : 
Conif.  while  th.-  yi'ft  voluptuous  breezes  fan 
The  Ih  "  ^  li,,,irii.,  .nwrap  the  limbs  in  balm, 
Aii.l  -li'  '1  ;i  rlciiiniiiL'  languor  o'er  tho  soul. 
Nur  kIi.'ii  l,ri-ht  W  ink-r  SOWS  with  prickly  frost 
The  vigorous  otlaT,  iu  unmanly  warmth 
Indulge  at  home  ;  nor  even  when  Eurus'  blasts 
This  way  and  that  convolve  the  laboring  woods. 
My  liberal  walks,  save  when  the  skies  in  rain 
Or  fogs  relent,  no  season  should  confine 
Or  to  the  cloistered  gallery  or  aroado. 
Go,  climb  the  mountain  ;  from  the  ethereal  source 
Imbibe  tho  recent  gale.     The  cheerful  morn 
Beams  o'er  the  hills  ;  go,  mount  the  exulting  steed. 
Already,  sec,  the  deep-mouthed  beagles  catch 
The  tainted  ma/.cs  ;  and,  on  eager  sport 
Intent,  with  emulous  impalience  try 
Each  doubtful  trace.     Or,  if  a  nobler  prey 
'   Delight  you  more,  go  chase  the  desperate  deer  ; 
And  through  its  deepest  solitudes  awake 
Tho  vocal  forest  with  tho  jovial  horn. 


But  if  t 
Exceed  y 


B    EXEBnSE.— TBEST 

i-thob's  childhood. 
,r  hill  and  dale 
t  less  fatigue, 


Nor  less  lU  1 
Affords.  Tl 
A  stony  ehii 


THE  RF.WARDS  OF  SIMPLICTTV,  SOBRIETY, 

Such  the  reward  of  rude  and  sober  life  ; 
Of  labor  such.     By  health  the  peasant's  toil 
Is  well  ropnid  ;  if  exercise  were  pain 
Tu.lrr^l,  ;iM.l  temperance  pain.     By  arts  like  these 
l,;ieMnia  nursed  of  old  her  hardy  sons  ; 
And  R.  ine's  unconquered  legions  urged  their  way. 
Unhurt,  through  every  toil  in  every  clime. 

TOIL,  ASD  BE  STBOSO.  —  VARIOCS  EXERCISE. 

Toil,  and  be  strong.     By  toil  the  flaccid  nerves 
Grow  firm,  and  gain  a  more  compacted  tone  ; 
The  greener  juices  are  by  toil  subdued, 
Mellowed,  and  subtilized  ;  tho  vapid  old 
Expelled,  and  all  tho  rancor  of  tho  blood. 


43 


MMiM,  that  o'er 
il-  i;L|iid  maze,  [bounds 

\,r  li.v.     Such,  through  the 
III'  I'li   III  -1  I  '   1  I.  luus  tho  brawling  Trent  ; 
<„  ;    I  ,  I ,  ,m  Cumbrian  mountains  ;  such 

11     I  „iiii  woods  ;  and  such  the  stream 

(ju  ulu.,-v  .\u.eii.iii  banks  I  first  drew  air, 
Liddal  ;   till  now,  except  in  Doric  lays 
Tuned  to  her  murmurs  by  her  love-sick  swains. 
Unknown  in  song :  though  not  a  purer  stream, 
Through  meads  more  flowery,  more  romantic  groves. 
Rolls  towards  tho  western  main.  Hail,  sacred  flood  ! 
May  still  thy  hospitable  swains  bo  blest 
In  rural  innocence  ;  thy  mountains  still 
Teem  with  tho  fleecy  race  ;  thy  tuneful  woods 
Forever  flourish  ;  and  thy  vales  look  gay 
With  painted  meadows,  and  the  golden  grain  !  ^ 
Oft,  with  thy  blooming  sons,  when  life  was  new. 
Sportive  and  petulant,  and  charmed  with  toys. 
In  thy  transparent  eddies  have  I  laved  : 
Oa  traced  with  patient  steps  thy  fairy  banks. 
With  tho  well-imitated  fly  to  hook 
The  eager  trout,  and  with  the  slender  lino 
And  yielding  rod  solicit  to  the  shore 


RURAL    POETRY. ARMSTRONG. 


The  struggling,  panting  prey  :  while  vernal  clouds 

And  tepid  gales  obscured  the  ruffled  pool, 

And  from  the  deeps  called  forth  the  wanton  swarms. 

CAIIDENISG   A   LIGHT   EXERCISE   FOR  CERTAIN  TASTES- 

Formed  on  the  Samian  >  school,  or  those  of  Ind,' 
There  are  who  think  these  pastimes  scarce  humane. 
Yet  in  my  mind  —  and  not  relentless  I  — 
His  life  is  pure  that  wears  no  fouler  stains. 
But  if,  through  genuine  tenderness  of  heart, 
Or  secret  want  of  relish  for  the  game, 
You  shun  the  glories  of  the  chase,  nor  care 
To  haunt  the  peopled  stream  ;  the  garden  yields 
A  soft  amusement,  an  humane  delight. 
To  raise  the  insipid  nature  of  the  ground  ; 
Or  tame  its  savage  genius  to  the  grace 
Of  careless  sweet  rusticity,  that  seems 
The  amiable  result  of  happy  chance, 
Is  to  create  ;  and  gives  a  godlike  joy, 
Which  every  year  improves.     Nor  thou  disdain 
To  check  the  lawless  riot  of  the  trees, 
To  plant  the  grove,  or  turn  the  barren  mould. 


0  happy  he  !  whom,  when  his  years  decline 
(His  fortune  and  his  fame  by  worthy  means 
Attained,  and  equal  to  his  moderate  mind  ; 
His  life  approved  by  all  the  wise  and  good, 
Even  envied  by  the  vain),  the  peaceful  groves 
Of  Epicurus,  from  this  stormy  world. 
Receive  to  rest  ;  of  all  ungrateful  cares 
Absolved,  and  sacred  from  the  selfish  crowd. 
Happiest  of  men  !  if  the  same  soil  invites 
A  chosen  few,  companions  of  his  youth. 
Once  fellow-rakes  perhaps,  now  rural  friends  ; 
With  whom,  in  easy  commerce,  to  pursue 
Nature's  free  charms,  and  vie  for  sylvan  fame  : 
A  fair  ambition  ;   void  of  strife  or  guile. 
Or  jealousy,  or  pain  to  be  outdone. 
Who  plans  th'  enchanted  garden,  who  directs 
The  visto  best,  and  best  conducts  the  stream  ; 
Whose  groves  the  fastest  thicken  and  ascend  ; 
Who  first  the  welcome  Spring  salutes  ;  who  shows 
The  earliest  bloom,  the  sweetest,  proudest  charms 
Of  Flora  ;  who  best  gives  Pomona's  juice 
To  match  the  sprightly  genius  of  Champagne. 

EVENINGS   OF    WINTER  SPENT  SENSIBLY. 

Thrice  happy  days  !  in  rural  business  past  ; 
Blest  winter  nights  !  when,  as  the  genial  fire 
Cheers  the  wide  hall,  his  cordial  family 
With  soft  domestic  arts  the  hours  beguile. 
And  pleasing  talk  that  starts  no  timorous  fame, 
With  witless  wantonness  to  hunt  it  down  : 
Or  through  the  fairy-land  of  tale  or  song, 
Delighted,  wander,  in  fictitious  fates 
Engaged,  and  all  that  strikes  humanity  : 
Till,  lost  in  fable,  they  the  stealing  hour 
Of  timely  rest  forget.     Sometimes,  at  eve, 

1  -  Pythagoras  of  Samos  was  a  vegetarian,  and  so  thf 


His  neighbors  lift  the  latch,  and  bless  unbid 
Hi?  festal  roof  ;  while,  o'er  the  light  repast, 
^*\im1  -]ji  IliIiIIv  I'lips,  they  mix  in  social  joy  ; 
..\iiil,  ilir.iii^li  111.'  maze  of  conversation,  trace 
AA'liiitt'ir  ;iijuisrs  or  improves  the  mind. 
Sometimes  at  eve  (for  I  delight  to  taste 
The  native  zest  and  flavor  of  the  fruit, 
Where  sense  grows  wild  and  takes  of  no  manure). 
The  decent,  honest,  cheerful  husbandman 
Should  drown  his  labor  in  my  friendly  bowl ; 
And  at  my  table  find  himself  at  home. 


Whate'er  you  study,  in  whate'er  you  sweat. 
Indulge  your  taste.     Some  love  the  manly  foils  ; 
The  tennis  some  ;  and  some  the  graceful  dance. 
Others,  more  hardy,  range  the  purple  heath, 
Or  naked  stubble  ;  where  from  field  to  field 
The  sounding  coveys  urge  their  laboring  flight : 
Eager  amid  the  rising  cloud  to  pour 
The  gun's  unerring  thunder  ;  and  there  are 
Whom  still  the  meed '  of  the  green  archer  charms. 
He  chooses  best,  whose  labor  entertains 
His  vacant  fancy  most  :  the  toil  you  hate 
Fatigues  you  soon,  and  scarce  improves  your  limbs. 


As  beauty  still  has  blemish  ;  and  the  mind 
The  most  accomplished  its  imperfect  side  ; 
Few  bodies  arc  there  of  that  happy  mould 
But  some  one  part  is  weaker  than  the  rest : 
The  legs,  perhaps,  or  arms,  refuse  their  load, 
Or  the  chest  labors.     These  assiduously. 
But  gently,  in  their  proper  arts  employed. 
Acquire  a  vigor  and  elastic  spring 
To  which  they  were  not  born.     But  weaker  parts 
Abhor  fatigue  and  violent  discipline. 

Begin  with  gentle  toils  ;  and,  as  your  nerves 
Grow  firm,  to  hardier  by  just  steps  aspire. 
The  prudent,  even  in  every  moderate  walk, 
At  first  but  saunter  ;   and  by  slow  degrees 
Increase  their  pace.     This  doctrine  of  the  wise 
Well  knows  the  master  of  the  flying  steed. 
First  from  the  goal  the  managed  coursers  play 
On  bended  reins  ;  as  yet  the  skilful  youth 
Repress  their  foamy  pride  ;  but  every  breath 
The  race  grows  warmer,  and  the  tempest  swells  ; 
Till  all  the  fiery  mettle  has  its  way, 
And  the  thick  thunder  hurries  o'er  the  plain. 


AVhen  all  at  once  from  indolence  to  toil 
You  spring,  the  fibres  by  the  hasty  shook 
Are  tired  and  cracked,  before  their  unctuous  ( 
Compressed,  can  pour  the  lubricating  balm. 
Besides,  collected  in  the  passive  veins. 
The  purple  mass  a  sudden  torrent  rolls. 


AUTUMN  —  OCTOBER. 


O'crpowors  tho  heart,  and  deluges  the  lungs 
"With  dangerous  inundation  :  oft  tho  sourco 
Of  futal  woes  ;  a  cough  that  foams  with  blood, 
Asthma,  and  feller  Pcripneumony,' 
Or  tho  slow  minings  of  the  hcotio  Are. 


Th'  athletic  fool,  to  whom  what  heaven  denied 
Of  soul  is  well  compensated  in  limbs. 
Oft  from  his  nvgo,  or  brainless  frolio,  feels 
His  vegetative  and  brute  force  decay. 
The  men  of  better  clay  and  finer  mould 
Know  nature,  feel  the  human  dignity  ; 
And  scorn  to  vie  with  oxen  and  with  apes. 
Pursued  proli.\ly,  even  tho  gentlest  toil 
Is  waste  of  health  :  repose  by  small  fatigue 
Is  earned  ;  and  (where  your  habit  is  not  prone 
To  thaw)  by  the  first  moisture  of  tho  brows. 
The  fine  and  subtle  spirits  cost  too  much 
To  be  profused,  too  much  the  roscid  balm. 

AVOID  Sl'DDBX  DRINKING  OF  WATER  AFTER  SWEATINa. 

But  when  the  hard  varieties  of  life 
You  toil  to  learn  ;  or  try  the  dusty  chase, 
Or  the  warm  deeds  of  some  important  day  ; 
Ilot  from  the  field,  indulge  not  yet  your  limbs 
In  wished  repose  ;  nor  court  the  fanning  gale. 
Nor  taste  the  spring.    0  !  by  the  sacred  tears 
Of  widows,  orphans,  mothers,  sisters,  sires. 
Forbear  !  No  other  pestilonco  has  driven 
Such  myriads  o*er  the  irremeable  deep. 
^Vhy  this  so  fatal,  the  sagacious  muse 
Through  Nature's  cunning  labyrinths  could  trace  : 
But  there  are  secrets  which  who  knows  not  now, 
JIust,  ere  he  reach  them,  climb  tho  heapy  Alps 
Of  science  ;  and  devote  seven  years  to  toil. 


T  is  not  for  those  whom  gelid  skies  ( 

And  chilling  fogs  ;  whose  perspiration  feels 

Such  frequent  bars  from  Eurus  and  tho  North  ; 

"T  is  not  for  those  to  cultivate  a  skin 

Too  soft :  or  teach  tho  rcorcmental  fumo 

Too  fust  to  crowd  through  such  precarious  ways. 

Fi>r  through  tho  small  arterial  mouths,  that  pierce 

In  endless  millions  the  close-woven  skin. 

The  baser  fluids  in  a  constant  stream 

Escape,  and  viewless  molt  into  tho  winds. 


Whilu  this  eternal,  this  most  copious  waste 

"I  I'l I.  degenerate  into  vapid  brine, 

.Miiinliiiiis  its  wonted  measure,  all  tho  powers 
Ul  hcultli  befriend  you,  all  tho  wheels  of  life 

I  With  case  and  pleasure  move  ;  but  this  restrained 
Or  more  or  less,  so  more  or  less  you  feel 

I  The  lum-liuns  hib.ir  :  fr..m  this  fatal  yourco 

I  :;■;'■""''  ''' '  ''",'':'■''':'''■'■■  7;;;;';;;^. 

Ul  uu.t^  iu.il,  uiun  ilii'  blu.-Uiiii;;  .\v,iLh  embroils 
The  Baltic,  thunder  on  tho  ijorman  shore. 


ICE  AS  TO  HEALTH. 

Besides,  I  would  not  stun  your  patient  ears 
With  what  it  little  boots  you  to  attain. 
He  knows  enough,  the  mariner,  who  knows    [boil; 
Where  lurk  tho  shelves,  and  where  tho  whirlpools 
What  signs  portend  the  storm  :  to  subtler  minds 
Ho  leaves  to  scan,  from  what  mysterious  cause 
Charybdis  rages  in  tho  Ionian  wave  ; 
Whence  those  impetuous  currents  in  the  main 
Which  neither  oar  nor  sail  can  stem  ;  ond  why 
The  roughening  deep  expects  the  storm,  as  sure 
As  red  Orion  mounts  the  shrouded  heaven. 


Subject  not,  then.  !■; 
This  grand  cxpans. . 
To  every  caprice  of  1'  ■  t 

The  genius  of  your  .liii  l.luod 

Least  fickle  rise  tho  rci:reiii«_-iital  >t'.am5. 
And  least  obnoxious  to  the  styptic  air. 
Which  breathe  thro'  straiter  and  more  callous  pores. 
Tho  tempered  Scythian  hence,  half  naked,  treads 
His  boundless  snows,  nor  roes  th'  inclement  heaven ; 
And  hence  our  painted  ancestors  defied 
The  East :  nor  cursed,  like  us,  their  fickle  sky. 


In  ancient  times,  when  Rome  with  Athens  vied 
For  polished  luxury  and  useful  arts  ; 
All  hot  and  reeking  from  tho  Olympic  strife. 
And  warm  palsestra,  in  the  tepid  bath 
The  athletic  youth  relaxed  their  weary  limbs. 
Soft  oils  bedewed  them,  with  tho  grateful  powers 
Of  nard  and  cassia  fraught,  to  soothe  and  heal 
The  cherished  nerves.     Our  less  voluptuous  climo 
Not  much  invites  us  to  such  arts  as  these. 
I  The 


The  body,  moulded  by  the  clime,  endures 
The  Equator  heats  or  Hyperborean  frost : 
Except  by  habits  foreign  to  its  turn. 
Unwise,  you  counteract  its  forming  power. 
Rude  at  the  first,  the  Winter  shocks  you  less 
By  long  acquaintance  ;  study,  then,  your  sky. 
Form  to  its  manners  your  obse<)uious  frame, 
And  learn  to  suficr  what  yuu  cannot  shun. 
Against  the  rigors  of  a  damp,  cold  heaven 
To  fortify  their  bodies,  some  frequent 
The  gelid  cistern  ;  and,  where  naught  forbids, 
I  praise  their  dauntless  heart :  a  frame  so  steeled 
Dreads  not  the  cough,  nor  those  ungenial  blasts 
That  breathe  the  tertian  or  fell  rheumatism  : 
The  nerves  so  tempered  never  quit  their  tone. 
No  chronic  languors  haunt  such  hardy  breasts. 


But  all  things  have  their  bounds  :   and  he  who 
By  daily  use,  tho  kindest  regimen  [makes. 

Essential  to  his  health,  should  never  mix 
With  humankind,  nor  art  nor  trade  pursue. 


340 


RURAL    POETRT. ARMSTRONG. 


He  not  the  safe  vicissitudes  of  life 

Without  some  shoolj  endures  ;   ill-fitted  he 

To  want  the  known  or  bear  unusual  things. 

Besides,  the  powerful  remedies  of  pain 

(Since  pain  in  spite  of  all  our  care  will  come) 

Should  never  with  your  prosperous  days  of  health 

Grow  too  familiar  ;  for  by  frequent  use 

The  strongest  medicines  lose  their  healing  power, 

And  even  the  surest  poisons  theirs  to  kill. 

NOBTHERNEES    VISITING  A  SOOTHERS    CLIME    SHOULD    BATH! 
FREELY. 

Let  those  who  from  the  frozen  Arctos  reach 
Parched  Jlauritania,  or  the  sultry  West, 
Or  the  wide  flood  through  rich  Indostan  rolled, 
Plunge  thrice  a  day,  and  in  the  tepid  wave 
Untwist  their  stubborn  pores  ;  that  full  and  free 
The  evaporation  through  the  softened  skin 
May  bear  proportion  to  the  swelling  blood. 
So  shall  they  'scape  the  fever's  rapid  flames  ; 
So  feel  untainted  the  hot  breath  of  hell. 


WARM  BATBS.— CLEASLi; 

With  us,  the  man  of  no  complaint  demands 
The  warm  ablution  just  enough  to  clear 
The  sluices  of  the  skin,  enough  to  keep 
The  body  sacred  from  indecent  soil. 
Still  to  be  pure,  even  did  it  not  conduce 
(As  much  it  does)  to  health,  were  greatly  worth 
Your  daily  pains.     'T  is  this  adorns  the  rich  ; 
The  want  of  this  is  poverty's  worst  woe  ; 
With  this  external  virtue  age  maintains 
A  decent  grace  ;  without  it  youth  and  charms 
Are  loathsome.     This  the  venal  graces  know  ; 
So  doubtless  do  your  wives  :  for  married  sires, 
As  well  as  lovers,  still  pretend  to  taste  ; 
Nor  is  it  less  (all  prudent  wives  can  tell) 
To  lose  a  husband's  than  a  lover's  heart. 


But  now  the  hours  and  seasons  when  to  toil 
From  foreign  themes  recall  my  wandering  song. 
Some  labor  fasting,  or  but  slightly  fed, 
To  lull  the  grinding  stomach's  hungry  rage. 
Where  nature  feeds  too  corpulent  a  frame 
'T  is  wisely  done  :  for  while  the  thirsty  veins, 
Impatient  of  lean  penury,  devour 
The  treasured  oil,  then  is  the  happiest  time 
To  shake  the  lazy  balsam  from  its  cells. 
Now,  while  the  stomach  from  the  full  repast 
Subsides,  but  ore  returning  hunger  gnaws, 
Ye  leaner  habits,  give  an  hour  to  toil  : 
And  ye  whom  no  luxuriancy  of  growth 
Oppresses  yet,  or  threatens  to  oppress. 


But  from  the  recent  meal  no  labors  please, 
Of  limbs  or  mind.     For  now  the  cordial  powers 
Claim  all  the  wandering  spirits  to  a  work 
Of  strong  and  subtle  toil,  and  groat  event  : 
A  work  of  time  :  and  you  may  rue  the  day 


You  hurried,  with  untimely  exercise, 
A  half-concocted  chyle  into  the  blood. 
The  body  overcharged  with  unctuous  phlegm 
Much  toil  demands  :  thd  lean  elastic  less. 


While  Winter  chills  the  blood,  and  binds  the  veins, 
No  labors  are  too  hard  :  by  those  you  'scape 
The  slow  diseases  of  the  torpid  year  ; 
Endless  to  name  ;  to  one  of  which  alone. 
To  that  which  tears  the  nerves,  the  toil  of  slaves 
Is  pleasure  :  0  !  from  such  inhuman  pains 
May  all  be  free  who  merit  not  the  wheel  ! 
But  from  the  burning  Lion  when  the  sun 
Pours  down  his  sultry  wrath  ;    now  while  the  blood 
Too  much  already  maddens  in  the  veins. 
And  all  the  finer  fluids  through  the  skin 
Explore  their  flight  ;  me,  near  the  cool  cascade 
Reclined,  or  sauntering  in  the  leafy  grove. 
No  needless,  slight  occasion  should  engage 
To  pant  and  sweat  beneath  the  fiery  noon. 


Now  the  fresh  morn  alone  and  mellow  eve 
To  shady  walks  and  active  rural  sports 
Invite.     But,  while  the  chilling  dews  descend, 
May  nothing  tempt  you  to  the  cold  embrace 
Of  humid  skies  ;  though  't  is  no  vulgar  joy 
To  trace  the  horrors  of  the  solemn  wood 
While  the  soft  evening  saddens  into  night : 
Though  the  sweet  poet  of  the  vernal  groves 
Melts  all  the  night  in  strains  of  am'rous  woe. 


The  shades  descend,  and  midnight  o'er  the  world 
Expands  her  sable  wings.     Great  Nature  droops 
Through  all  her  works.     How  happy  he  whose  toil 
Has  o'er  his  languid,  powerless  limbs  diffused 
A  pleasing  lassitude  ;  he  not  in  vain 
Invokes  the  gentle  Deity  of  Dreams. 
His  powers  the  most  voluptuously  dissolve 
In  soft  repose  :  on  him  the  balmy  dews 
Of  sleep  with  double  nutriment  descend. 


But  would  you  sweetly  waste  the  blank  of  night 
In  deep  oblivion  ;   or  on  fancy's  wings 
Visit  the  paradise  of  happy  dreams, 
And  waken  cheerful  as  the  lively  morn  ; 
Oppress  not  Nature  sinking  down  to  rest 
With  feasts  too  late,  too  solid,  or  too  full : 
But  be  the  first  concoction  half-matured 
Ere  you  to  mighty  indolence  resign 
Your  passive  faculties.     He  from  the  toils 
And  troubles  of  the  day  to  heavier  toil 
Retires,  whom  trembling  from  the  tower  that  rocks 
Amid  the  clouds,  or  Calpe's  hideous  height. 
The  busy  demons  hurl  ;  or  in  the  main 
O'orwhelm  ;   or  bury  struggling  under  ground. 


AUTUMN  —  OCTOBER. 


341 


HORRID   DRSiMS.— TvnAT  DBRAMS  PORTBND. 

Kot  all  11  monaioh's  luxury  tho  woes 
Can  countorpoiso  of  that  most  wretched  man, 
Whoso  nights  are  shaken  with  tho  frantic  fits 
Of  wilJ  Orestes  ;  whose  delirious  brain, 
Stung  by  tho  Furies,  works  with  poisoned  thought  : 
While  pale  and  monstrous  painting  shocks  tho  soul  j 
And  mangled  consciousness  bemoans  itself 
P'orover  torn,  and  chaos  floating  round. 
What  dreams  presage,  what  dangers  thcso  or  tnoso 
Portend  to  sanity,  though  prudent  seers 
Koveoled  of  old,  and  men  of  deathless  fame, 
Wo  would  not  to  tho  superstitious  mind 
Suggest  new  throbs,  now  vanities  of  fear. 
'T  is  ours  to  teach  you  from  a  peaceful  night 
To  banish  omens  and  all  restless  woes. 

MIDXIGHT  STCDY  AND  NOONDAY  SLEEP  REPROBATED. 

In  study  somo  protract  tho  silent  hours, 
AVhich  others  consecrate  to  mirth  and  wine. 
And  sleep  till  noon,  and  hardly  lire  till  night : 
But  surely  this  redeems  not  from  the  shades 
One  hour  of  life.     Nor  does  it  naught  avail 
What  season  you  to  drowsy  Morpheus  give 
Of  the  ever-varying  circle  of  tho  day" ; 
Or  whether,  through  tho  tedious  winter  gloom, 
You  tempt  tho  midnight  or  tho  morning  damps. 

THE  MORNING  CmLLS  BETTER  ENDCRED  THAN  THOSE  AT  M!D- 


PEBSPIRATION.  ■ 


CIRCULATION,  1 


The  body,  fresh  and  vigorous  from  repose, 
Defies  the  early  fogs  :  but,  by  tho  toils 
Of  wakeful  day  exhausted  and  unstrung. 
Weakly  rc.si.>ts  the  night's  unwholesome  breath.     ^ 
The  -r:iii.l   li    Imj.  ,  lin-  <>iriision  of  tho  skin, 
Slowly  I.     ,       i,  ■  .     i  I  iiu'iiid  maladies 
Creep  fii,  i:,  i  I'.r,    ,!_!i  i]ir  sickening  functions  steal. 
So  when  tlic  cliilliii^  wii.t  invades  tho  Spring, 
The  delicate  Narcissus  pines  away 
In  hectic  languor  :  and  a  slow  disease 
Taints  all  tho  family  of  flowers,  condemned 
To  cruel  heavens.     But  why,  already  prono 
To  fade,  should  beauty  cherish  its  own  bane  ? 
0  shame  !  0  pity  !  nipped  with  palo  quadrille, 
And  midnight  cares,  the  bloom  of  Albion  dies  ! 


rior  and  tho  hind 
iictivo  functions  soon 
-ubtlo  tubes  supply  ; 


Bylnil  -ul,.|,. 

S1C0|.  (.:■■■     Hi 

With  -•■■■ 

And  souu  i!;c  I. -UK,  ii,i;.il,lo  nerves 

Feel  tho  fresh  impulse,  and  awake  tho  soul. 

The  sons  of  indolence  with  long  repose 

Grow  torpid  :  and,  with  slowest  Lctho  drunk, 

Feebly  and  lingeringly  return  to  life. 

Blunt  every  sense,  and  powerless  every  limb. 

Yo  prone  to  sleep  (whom  sleeping  most  annoys), 

On  tho  hard  mattress  or  elastic  couch 

Extend  your  limbs,  and  wean  yourselves  from  sloth; 

Nor  grudge  the  lean  projoctoi^  of  dry  brain 

And  springy  ncrvos,  tho  blandishments  of  down  ; 


Nor  envy,  while  tho  buried  bacchanal 
Exhales  his  surfeit  in  prolixer  dreams. 


lie,  without  riot,  in  tho  balmy  feast 
Of  lifu,  tho  wants  of  nature  has  supplied, 
Who  rises  cool,  serene,  and  full  of  soul. 
But  pliant  nature  more  or  logs  demands. 
As  custom  forms  her  ;  and  all  sudden  change 
She  hates  of  habit,  even  from  bad  to  good. 
If  faults  in  life,  or  now  emergonoics. 
From  habits  urge  you  by  long  time  confirmed. 
Slow  may  tho  change  arrive,  and  stage  by  stage  ; 
Slow  as  the  shadow  o'er  the  dial  moves. 
Slow  as  tho  stealing  progress  of  tho  year. 

GRADUAL  CHANGE  OV  THE  SEASONS.  —WHEN  TO  ISB  FURS. 

Observe  tho  circling  year.     IIow  unpcrceived 
Her  seasons  change  !     Behold  !  by  slow  degrees, 
Stern  Winter  tamed  into  a  ruder  Spring  ; 
The  ripened  Spring  a  milder  Summer  glows  ; 
Departing  Summer  sheds  Pomona's  store  ; 
And  aged  Autumn  brews  tho  winter  .■*tt)riii. 
Slow  as  they  come,  these  changes  come  not  void 
Of  mortal  shocks  :  tho  cold  and  torrid  reigns. 
The  two  great  periods  of  tho  important  year, 
Are  in  their  first  approaches  seldom  safe  : 
Funereal  Autumn  all  the  sickly  dread. 
And  the  black  Fates  deform  tho  lovely  Spring. 

lie  well-advised,  who  tanght  our  wiser  sires 
Early  to  borrow  Muscovy's  warm  spoils, 
Ero  tho  first  frost  has  touched  tho  tender  blade  ; 
And  late  resign  them,  though  tho  wanton  Spring 
Should  deck  her  charms  with  all  her  sister's  rays. 
For  while  the  effluence  of  the  skin  maintains 
Its  native  measure,  tho  pleuritic  Spring 
Glides  harmless  by  ;  and  Autumn,  sick  to  death 
With  sallow  quartans,  no  contagion  breathes. 

IF  DISEASE  THREATENS,  CONSULT  YOUR  PUVSICIAX. 

I  in  prophetic  numbers  could  unfold 
Tho  omens  of  tho  year  :  what  seasons  teem 
With  what  diseases  ;  what  tho  humid  South 
Prepares,  and  what  tho  demon  of  the  East : 
But  you  perhaps  refuse  tho  tedious  song. 
Besides,  whatever  plagues  in  heat,  or  cold. 
Or  drought,  or  moisture,  dwell,  they  hurt  not  yon. 
Skilled  to  correct  tho  vices  of  the  sky, 
And  taught  already  how  to  each  extreme 
To  bond  your  life.     But  should  tho  public  banc 
Infect  you  ;   or  somo  trespass  of  your  own. 
Or  flaw  of  nature,  hint  mortality  : 
Soon  as  a  not  unpleasing  horror  glides 
.Vlong  the  spine,  through  all  your  torpid  limbs  ; 
When  first  the  head  throbs,  or  the  stomach  feels 
A  sickly  load,  a  weary  pain  the  loins  ; 
Bo  Celsus  called  ;  tho  Fates  come  rushing  on  ; 
The  rapid  Fates  admit  of  no  delay. 
While  ivilful  you,  and  fatally  secure. 
Expect  to-morrow's  moro  auspicious  sun, 
Tho  growing  post,  whose  infancy  was  weak 
And  easy  vanquished,  with  triumphant  sway 
O'erpowers  your  life.     For  want  of  timely  care, 
Millions  havo  died  of  medicable  wounds. 


342 


RURAL    POETRY. ARMSTRONG. 


Ah! 


■  TRIFLES  MAT  EXPOSE  LIFE.  — EPIDEM 

1  what  perils  is  vain  life  engaged  ! 


What  slight  neglects,  what  trivial  faults,  destroy 

The  hardiest  frame  !  of  indolence,  of  toil. 

We  die  ;  of  want,  of  superfluity  : 

The  all-surroundiug  heaven,  the  vital  air, 

Is  big  with  death.     And  though  the  putrid  South 

Be  shut ;  though  no  convulsive  agony 

Shake,  from  the  deep  foundations  of  the  world, 

The  imprisoned  plagues  ;  a  secret  venom  oft 

Corrupts  the  air,  the  water,  and  the  land. 

What  livid  deaths  has  sad  Byzantium  seen  ! 

How  oft  has  Cairo,. with  a  mother's  woe, 

Wept  o'er  her  slaughtered  sons  and  lonely  streets  ! 

Even  Alhion,  girt  with  less  malignant  skies, 

Albion  the  poison  of  the  gods  has  drank, 

And  felt  the  sting  of  monsters  all  her  own. 

SWEATING  PLAGUE  nURING  THE  CIVIL  WARS  OF  ENGLAND. 

Ere  yet  the  fell  Plantagenets  had  spent 
Their  ancient  rage,  at  Bosworth's  purple  field  ; 
While,  for  which  tyrant  England  should  receive, 
Her  legions  in  incestuous  murders  mi.\ed. 
And  daily  horrors  ;  till  the  Fates  were  drunk 
With  kindred  blood  by  kindred  hands  profused  ; 
Another  plague,  of  more  gigantic  arm, 
Arose  ;  a  monster  never  known  before 
Reared  from  Cocytus  its  portentous  head. 
This  rapid  fury  not  like  other  pests 
Pursued  a  gradual  course,  but  in  a  day 
Rushed  as  a  storm  o'er  half  the  astonished  isle, 
And  strewed  with  sudden  carcasses  the  land. 

First  through  the  shoulders,  or  whatever  part 
Was  seized  the  first,  a  fervid  vapor  sprung. 
With  rash  combustion  thence  the  quivering  spark 
Shot  to  the  heart,  and  kindled  all  within  ; 
And  soon  the  surface  caught  the  spreading  fires. 
Through  all  the  yielding  pores,  the  melted  blood 
Gushed  out  in  smoky  sweats  ;  but  naught  assuaged 
The  torrid  heat  within,  nor  aught  relieved 
The  stomach's  anguish.     With  incessant  toil. 
Desperate  of  ease,  impatient  of  their  pain, 
They  tossed  from  side  to  side.     In  vain  the  stream 
Ran  full  and  clear  ;  they  burnt  and  thirsted  still. 
The  restless  arteries  with  rapid  blood 
Beat  strong  and  frequent.     Thick  and  pantingly 
The  breath  was  fetched,  and  with  huge  laborings 
At  last  a  heavy  pain  oppressed  the  head,     [heaved. 
A  wild  delirium  came  ;  their  weeping  friends 
Were  strangers  now,  and  this  no  home  of  theirs. 
Harassed  with  toil  on  toil,  the  sinking  powers 
Lay  prostrate  and  o'erthrown  ;  a  ponderous  sleep 
Wrapt  all  the  senses  up  :  they  slept  and  died. 

In  some  a  gentle  horror  crept  at  first 
O'er  all  the  limbs  ;  the  sluices  of  the  skin 
Withheld  their  moisture,  till,  by  art  provoked, 
The  sweats  o'erflowed  ;  but  in  a  clammy  tide  : 
Now  free  and  copious,  now  restrained  and  slow  ; 
Of  tinctures  various,  as  the  temperature 
Had  mixed  the  blood  ;  and  rank  with  fetid  steams  : 
As  if  the  pent-up  humors  by  delay 


Were  grown  more  fell,  more  putrid,  and  malign. 
Here  lay  their  hopes  (though  little  hope  remained) 
With  full  effusion  of  perpetual  sweats 
To  drive  the  venom  put.     And  here  the  Fates 
Were  kind,  that  long  they  lingered  not  in  pain. 
For,  who  survived  the  sun's  diurnal  race. 
Rose  from  the  dreary  gates  of  hell  redeemed  : 
Some  the  sixth  hour  oppressed,  and  some  the  third. 

Of  many  thousands,  few  untainted  'scaped  ; 
Of  those  infected,  fewer  'scaped  alive  : 
Of  those  who  lived,  some  felt  a  second  blow  ; 
And  whom  the  second  spared,  a  third  destroyed. 
Frantic  with  fear,  they  sought  by  flight  to  shun 
The  fierce  contagion.     O'er  the  mournful  land 
The  infected  city  poured  her  hurrying  swarms  : 
Roused  by  the  flames  that  fired  her  seats  around, 
The  infected  country  rushed  into  the  town. 
Some  sad  at  home,  and  in  the  desert  some, 
Abjured  the  fatal  commerce  of  mankind  : 
In  vain  :  where'er  they  fled,  the  Fates  pursued. 
Others,  with  hopes  more  specious,  crossed  the  main, 
To  seek  protection  in  far-distant  skies  ; 
But  none  they  found.     It  seemed  the  general  air, 
From  pole  to  pole,  from  Atlas  to  the  East, 
Was  then  at  enmity  with  English  blood. 
For,  but  the  race  of  England,  all  were  safe 
In  foreign  climes  ;  nor  did  this  fury  taste 
The  foreign  blood  which  England  then  contained. 
Where  should  they  fly  ?   The  circumambient  heaven 
Involved  them  still  ;  and  every  breeze  was  bane. 
Where  find  relief?     The  salutary  art 
Was  mute  ;  and,  startled  at  the  new  disease, 
In  fearful  whispers  hopeless  omens  gave,  [prayers  ; 
To  Heaven   with   suppliant   rites  they  sent   their 
Heaven  heard  them  not.     Of  every  hope  deprived  ; 
Fatigued  with  vain  recourses  ;  and  subdued 
With  woes  resistless  and  enfeebling  fear  ; 
Passive  they  sunk  beneath  the  weighty  blow. 
Nothing  but  lamentable  sounds  was  heard. 
Nor  aught  was  seen  but  ghastly  views  of  death. 
Infectious  horror  ran  from  face  to  face. 
And  pale  despair.     'Twas  all  the  business  then 
To  tend  the  sick,  and  in  their  turns  to  die. 
In  heaps  they  fell  :  and  oft  one  bed,  they  say. 
The  sickening,  dying,  and  the  dead  contained. 

Ye  guardian  gods,  on  whom  the  fates  depend 
Of  tottering  Albion  !  ye  eternal  fires  [powers 

That  lead  through  heaven  the  wandering  year  !  ye 
That  o'er  the  encircling  elements  preside  ! 
May  nothing  worse  than  what  this  age  has  seen 
Arrive  !     Enough  abroad,  enough  at  home. 
Has  Albion  bled.     Hero  a  distempered  heaven 
Has  thinned  her  cities  ;  from  those  lofty  cliffs 
That  awe  proud  Gaul,  to  Thule's  wintry  reign  ; 
While  in  the  west,  beyond  the  Atlantic  foam, 
Her  bravest  sons,  keen  for  the  fight,  have  died 
The  death  of  cowards  and  of  common  men  : 
Sunk  void  of  wounds,  and  fallen  without  renown. 
But  from  these  views  the  weeping  Muses  turn. 
And  other  themes  invite  my  wandering  song. 


iluval  (["(lies  for  (i>rhUifr. 


LONGFELLOW'S  "AUTUMN." 
With  what  a  glory  comes  and  goes  the  year  !  — 
Tho  buds  of  Spring — those  beautiful  harbingers 
Of  sunny  skies  and  cloudless  times  —  enjoy 
Life's  newness,  and  earth's  garniture  spread  out ; 
And  when  tho  silver  habit  of  tho  clouds 
Comes  down  upon  tho  Autumn  sun,  and  with 
A  sober  gladness  tho  old  year  takes  up 
Uis  bright  inheritance  of  golden  fruits, 
A  pomp  and  pageant  fill  the  splendid  scone. 

There  is  a  beautiful  spirit  breathing  now 
Its  mellow  richness  on  the  clustered  trees, 
And  from  a  beaker  full  of  richest  dyes 
Pouring  now  glory  on  the  Autumn  woods. 
And  dipping  in  warm  light  the  pillared  clouds. 
Morn  on  tho  mountain,  like  a  summer  bird. 
Lifts  up  her  purple  wing,  and  in  the  vales 
The  gentle  wind,  a  sweet  and  passionate  wooer, 
Kisses  tho  blushing  leaf,  and  stirs  up  life 
Within  the  solemn  woods  of  ash  deep-crimsoned. 
And  silver  beech,  and  maple  yellow-leaved,  — 
Where  Autumn,  like  a  faint  old  man,  sit5  down 
By  the  way  side  a-weary.     Through  the  trees 
The  golden  robin  moves  ;  tho  purple  finch. 
That  on  wild  cherry  and  red  cedar  feeds,  — 
A  winter  bird,  —  comes  with  its  plaintive  whistle, 
And  pecks  by  the  witch-hazel,  whilst  aloud 
From  cottage  roofs  the  warbling  blue-bird  sings  ; 
And  merrily  with  oft-repeated  stroke 
Sounds  from  tho  threshing-floor  the  busy  flail. 

0  what  a  glory  doth  this  world  put  on 
For  him  that  with  a  fervent  heart  goes  forth 
Under  the  bright  and  glorious  sky,  and  looks 
On  duties  well  performed,  and  days  well  spent ! 
For  him  the  wind,  ay,  the  yellow  leaves. 
Shall  have  a  voice,  and  give  him  eloquent  teachings. 
He  shall  so  hear  the  solemn  hymn,  that  Death 
Has  lifted  up  for  all,  that  he  shall  go 
To  his  long  rcstiug-placc  without  a  tear. 


G.VLLAGIIER'S  "WESTERN  AUTUMN.' 

The  Autumn  time  is  with  us  !     Its  approach 
Was  heralded,  not  many  days  ago. 
By  hazy  skies  that  veiled  tho  brazen  sun. 
And  sea-like  murmurs  from  the  rustling  corn, 
And  low-voiced  brooks  that  wandered  drowsily 
By  purling  clusters  of  the  juicy  grape, 
Swinging  upon  the  vine.     And  now,  't  is  hero  ! 


And  what  a  change  hath  passed  upon  the  face 
Of  Nature,  where  thy  waving  forests  spread, 
Then  robed  in  deepest  green  !  All  through  the  night 
The  subtle  frost  hath  plied  its  mystic  art. 
And  in  the  day  tho  golden  sun  hath  wrought 
True  wonders  ;  and  the  wings  of  morn  and  even 
Have  touched  with  magic  breath  the  changing  leaves. 
And  now,  as  wanders  the  dilating  eye 
Athwart  the  varied  landscape  circling  fur, 
What  gorgeousness,  what  blazonry,  what  jmrnp 
Of  colors,  bursts  upon  the  ravished  sight ! 
Here,  where  the  maple  rears  its  yellow  crest, 
A  golden  glory  ;  yonder,  where  the  oak 
Stands  monarch  of  the  forest,  and  the  ash 
Is  girt  with  flame-like  piici-iic,  ami  liinad 
The  dog-wood  spread >  I.,  ni  .iih  .1  i.  lint.;  tit-Id 
Of  deepest  crimson  ;   anl.iiai    win  n    Immhis 
The  gnarled  gum,  a  eKiuil  «.■!  Mjudic-t  red  ! 


BRYANT'S  "AUTUMN  WOODS." 

Eke,  in  the  northern  gale, 
Tho  summer  tresses  of  the  trees  are  gone, 
Tho  woods  of  Autumn,  all  around  our  vule. 

Have  put  their  glury  on. 

The  mountains  that  infold. 
In  their  wide  sweep,  tho  colored  landscape  round. 
Seem  groups  of  giant  kings  in  purple  and  gold. 

That  guard  the  enchanted  ground. 

I  roam  the  woods  that  crown 
The  upland,  where  the  mingled  splendors  glow. 
Where  the  gay  company  of  trees  look  down 

On  the  green  fields  below. 

My  steps  are  not  atono 
In  these  bright  walks;  tho  sweet  south-west,  at  play, 
Flies,  rustling,  where  the  painted  leaves  are  strewn 

Along  tho  winding  way. 

And  far  in  heaven,  the  while, 
Tho  sun,  that  sends  that  gale  to  wander  here. 
Pours  out  on  tho  fair  earth  his  quiet  smile, — 

The  sweetest  of  tho  year. 

Where  now  tho  solemn  shade. 
Verdure  and  gloom  where  many  branches  meet ; 
So  grateful,  when  the  noon  of  Summer  made 

The  valleys  sick  with  heat  ? 

Lot  in  through  all  the  trees 
Come  the  strange  rays;  tho  forest  depths  are  bright; 
Their  sunny-colored  foliage  in  the  breeie 

Twinkles,  like  beams  of  light. 


344                                   RURAL    POETRY.  —  BRYANT LONGFELLOW. 

The  rivulet,  late  unseen, 

O'er  joys  that  ne'er  will  bloom  again  — 

Where  bickering  through  the  shrubs  its  waters  run. 

Mourns  on  the  far  hill-side. 

Shines  with  the  image  of  its  golden  screen, 

And  yet  my  pensive  eye 

And  glimmerings  of  the  sun. 

Rests  on  the  faint  blue  mountain  long. 

But,  'neath  yon  crimson  tree. 

And  for  the  fairy-land  of  song. 

Lover  to  listening  maid  might  breathe  his  flame, 

That  lies  beyond,  I  sigh. 

Nor  mark,  within  its  roseate  canopy. 

The  moon  unveils  her  brow  ; 

Her  blush  of  maiden  shame. 

In  the  mid  sky  her  urn  glows  bright, 

0,  Autumn  !  why  so  soon 

And  in  her  pale  and  mellow  light 

Depart  the  hues  that  make  thy  forests  glad  ; 

The  valley  sleeps  below. 

Thy  gentle  wind  and  thy  fair  sunny  noon. 

I  stand  deep  musing  here. 

And  leave  thee  wild  and  sad  ! 

Beneath  the  dark  and  motionless  beech. 

Ah, 'twere  a  lot  too  blest 

Whilst  wandering  winds  of  nightfall  reach 

Forever  in  thy  colored  shades  to  stray  ; 

My  melancholy  ear. 

Amidst  the  kisses  of  the  soft  south-west 

The  air  breathes  chill  and  free  ; 

To  rove  and  dream  for  aye  ; 

A  spirit,  in  soft  music,  calls 

And  leave  the  vain,  low  strife 

From  Autumn's  gray  and  moss-grown  halls, 

That  makes  men  mad  —the  tug  for  wealth  and  power, 

And  round  her  withered  tree. 

The  passions  and  the  cares  that  wither  life. 

The  hoar  and  mantled  oak, 

And  waste  its  little  hour. 

With  moss  and  twisted  ivy  brown, 

Bends  in  its  lifeless  beauty  down. 
Where  weeds  the  fountain  choke. 

LONGFELLOW'S    "AUTUMNAL    NIGHT- 

Leaves, that  the  night-wind  bears 

FALL." 

To  earth's  cold  bosom  with  a  sigh, 

Eon.VD  Autumn's  mouldering  urn. 

Are  types  of  our  mortality. 

Loud  mourns  the  chill  and  cheerless  gale, 

And  of  our  fading  years. 

When  nightfall  shades  the  quiet  vale. 
And  stars  in  beauty  burn. 

The  tree  that  shades  the  plain, 
Wasting  and  hoar  as  time  decays, 

'T  is  the  year's  eventide. 

Spring  shall  renew  with  cheerful  days,  — 

The  wind  — like  one  that  sighs  in  pain 

But  not  my  joys  again. 

•  .k^^^^ 

* 

'  "1^^^^^^^ 

^^.-.^Sj68afev>^         . 

-»^.=^*^^   "  ~ 

^omcrbiKc's  "(Tliasc' 


Tlie  subject  propnswl.  The  oricin  of  hunting.  The  ruile  ami 
unpolishe.1  itmnners  of  the  first  hunters.  Beiists  at  first 
hunlcil  for  fixxl  and  Mcriftce.  The  grant  made  by  God  to 
man  of  the  beasts,  Oen.  9 :  3.    The  regular  manner  of 


the  kenne!.    Tii'    ' 

sortingof  houii'l-  '  '  "  '  " 

Of  the  large,.!,   r  i.  '  :  -  ,    .  .i    - 

Ofthelime-hooi.  !  :     .  :   I        . 

and  Scotland,  v  i  iv  -.  ..  "  "  ■  ■  ■  -  ■  '  ■-  "  -  ' 
and  bad  scenthii;  .l..jo..  .V  ..i.  a  .i.h..^:.i:i>j;:  ijuii  ''f  "'- 
ren  of  the  couples. 

S111JECT-,  CniSB,  UOISDS.-RIUE  OKICIS  OF  HCSTISO. 

TiiEohaso  I  sing,  hounds,  and  their  various  breed, 
And  no  less  various  use.  *  ♦ 

When  Niinrod  bold, 
That  mighty  hunter  !  first  made  war  on  beasts, 
And  stained  tho  woodland  green  with  purple  dye, 
New  and  unpolished  was  tho  huntsman's  art ; 
Ni)  stated  rule,  liis  wanton  will  his  guide, 
WiUi  villi'     III  1    T   11. -.  mile  implements  of  war  ! 
lie  iinii'  i  '         I    I    '      Mills,  a  multitude 
Und..!!,    I  :     1  r    I  .^  ii-icTS  formed,  they  pitch 
Their  uiLk-Bs  loll.-.  UiLii  range  the  desert  hills 
And  scour  tho  plains  below  :  the  trembling  herd 
Start  at  tho  unusual  sound,  and  clamorous  shout, 
Unheard  before  ;  surprised,  alas  !  to  find  [lord, 

Jinn  now  their  foe,  whom  erst  they  deemed  their 
But  mild  and  gentle,  and  by  whom  as  yet 
Secure  they  graied.      Death  stretches  o'er  the  plain 
M'ide  wasting,  and  grim  slaughter,  red  with  blood  : 

Urged  on  by  hunger  keen,  they  wound,  thoy  kill ; 
Their  rage  licentious  knows  no  bound  ;  at  last, 

Encumbered  with  their  spoils,  joyful  they  bear 

Upon  their  shoulders  broad  tho  bleeding  prey. 

Part  on  their  altar  smokes,  a  sacrifice 

To  that  all-gracious  Power  whoso  bounteous  hand 

Supports  this  wide  creation  ;      '    ' 

On  living  coals  they  broil, 

(»r  taste,  nor  skilled  as  yet  in  nicer  arts 

Of  pampered  lu.xury.     Devotion  puro, 

And  strong  necessity,  thus  first  began 

The  chase  of  beasts  ;  though  bloody  was  tho  deed, 

Yet  without  guilt ;  for  the  green  herb  alone 

Unequal  to  sustain  man's  laboring  race, 

Now  '  every  moving  thing  that  lived '  on  earth 

Was  granted  him  for  food.     So  just  is  Heaven 
To  give  us  in  proportion  to  our  wants. 


WILLIAM  THE  CONQITEROB  ISTRODCCBD  THE  HEOCLAR  CUASB. 

Or  clianco  or  industry  in  after  times 
Some  few  imprnvomcnts  made,  but  short  as  yet 
(If  ilii'    1 '  I  r    'i   ti      In  this  isle  remote 
Oil,  I  .         II         I   I- were  slow  to  learn  : 
'1 ,,   III      i.  I  I  lie  politer  arts 

,\,,i    Kill.  I,  11   :    iHilious;  till  from  Neustria's ooiista 
Victuriuus  Williaiu  to  more  decent  rules 
Subdued  our  Sa.\on  fathers,  taught  to  speak 
The  proper  dialect,  with  horn  and  voice 
To  cheer  the  busy  hound,  whose  well-known  cry 
His  listening  peers  approve  with  joint  acclaim. 
I'rom  him  successive  huntsmen  learned  to  join 
lu  bloody  social  leagues  the  multitude 
Dispersed,  to  size,  to  sort  their  various  tribes  ; 
To  rear,  feed,  hunt,  and  discipline,  the  pack. 

EXCELLF.SCB  OF  BRITISH  UOBSES  AND  nODNDS.  —  I'SE. 

Hail,  happy  liritain  :  highly-favored  isle, 
And  Heaven's  peculiar  care  !  to  thee  'tis  given 
To  train  the  sprightly  steed,  more  fleet  than  those 
Begot  by  winds,  or  tho  celestial  breed 
That  bore  the  great  Pelides  through  tho  press 
Of  heroes  armed,  ami  broke  their  crowded  ranks, 
Which  r.^o"■ll.^  1"  '-'":"-■  "i'l'  '!"■  -""  logins, 

Cheerful,  In "  ■  ,  m  I.  '  n    In    1"  iins  decline, 

Hasmea.-uri.l  imli  i!.,   -n.:.-'  nnh,ii-ucd. 

Intheeulouc,  l.ut  l.i..a  ol  Liberty  ! 
Is  bred  the  perfect  huuud,  in  scent  and  speed 
As  yet  unrivalled,  while  in  other  climes 
Their  virtue  fails,  a  weak,  degenerate  race. 
In  vain  malignant  steams  and  winter  fogs 
Load  the  dull  air  and  hover  round  our  coast ; 
The  huntsman  ever  gay,  robust,  and  bold. 
Defies  tho  noxious  vapor,  and  confides 
In  this  delightful  e-xereise  to  raiso 
His  drooping  head,  and  cheer  his  heart  with  joy. 


Yo' 


IS  nONTER  TO  WEALTHY  LANDHOLDERS. 

I  youths  !  by  smiling  fortune  blest 


With  large  demesnes,  hereditary  wealth 

Heaped  copious  by  your  wise  forefathers'  care, 

Hear  and  attend  !  while  I  the  means  reveal 

To  enjoy  these  pleasures,  for  the  weak  too  strong, 

Too  costly  for  tho  poor  :  to  rein  tho  steed 

Swift  stretching  o'er  the  plain,  to  cheer  the  jmck 

Opening  in  concert  of  harmonious  joy, 

But  breathing  death.  What  though  the  gripo  severe 

Of  brazen-fisted  time,  and  slow  disease 

Creeping  through  every  vein,  and  nerve  unstrung, 

Afflict  ray  shattered  frame, —  undaunted  still 

Fixed  as  a  mountain-ash  that  braves  tho  bolts 


44 


RURAL    POETRY. SOMERVILLE. 


Of  angry  Jove,  though  blasted  yet  unfallen  ; 
StiU  can  my  soul  in  fancy's  mirror  view 
Deeds  glorious  once,  recall  the  joyous  scene 
In  all  its  splendors  decked,  o'er  the  full  bowl 
Recount  my  triumphs  past,  urge  others  on 
With  hand  and  voice,  and  point  the  winding  way  ; 
Pleased  with  that  Social,  sweet  garrulity. 
The  poor,  disbanded  veteran's  sole  delight. 


First  let  the  kennel  be  the  huntsman's  care, 
Upon  some  little  eminence  erect. 
And  fronting  to  the  ruddy  lawn  ;  its  courts 
On  either  hand  wide  opening  to  receive 
The  sun's  all-cheering  beams,  when  mild  he  shines. 
And  gilds  the  mountain-tops  ;  for  much  the  pack, 
Roused  from  their  dark  alcoves,  delight  to  stretch 
And  bask  in  his  invigorating  ray. 

Warmed  by  the  streaming  light,  and  merry  lark, 
Forth  rush  the  jolly  clan  ;  with  tuneful  throats 
They  carol  loud,  and  in  grand  chorus  joined 
Salute  the  new-born  day  :  for  not  alone 
The  vegetable  world,  but  men  and  brutes 
Own  his  reviving  influence,  and  joy 
At  his  approach.     Fountain  of  light !  if  chance 
Some  envious  cloud  veil  thy  refulgent  brow. 
In  vain  the  muse's  aid  ;  untouched,  unstrung, 
Lies  my  mute  harp,  and  thy  desponding  bard 
Sits  darkly  musing  o'er  the  unfinished  lay. 

Let  no  Corinthian  pillars  prop  the  dome  ; 
A  vain  expense,  on  charitable  deeds 
Better  disposed,  to  clothe  the  tattered  wretch 
Who  shrinks  beneath  the  blast,  to  feed  the  poor 
Pinched  with  afflictive  want.     For  use,  not  state, 
Gracefully  plain,  let  each  apartment  rise. 
O'er  all  let  cleanliness  preside,  no  scraps 
Bestrew  the  pavement,  and  no  half-picked  bones 
To  kindle  fierce  debate,  or  to  disgust 
That  nicer  sense  on  which  the  sportsman's  hope 
-4nd  all  its  future  triumphs  must  depend. 

Soon  as  the  growling  pack,  with  eager  joy. 
Have  lapped  their  smoking  viands,  morn  or  eve. 
From  the  full  cistern  lead  the  ductile  streams. 
To  wash  thy  court  well  paved,  nor  spare  thy  pains; 
For  much  to  health  will  cleanliness  avail. 
Seek'st  thou  for  hounds  to  climb  the  rocky  steep. 
And  brush  the  entangled  covert,  whose  nice  scent 
O'er  greasy  fallows  and  frequented  roads 
Can  pick  the  dubious  way  ?     Banish  far  off 
Each  noisome  stench  ;  let  no  oflensive  smell 
Invade  thy  wide  enclosure,  but  admit 
The  nitrous  air  and  purifying  breeze. 

Water  and  shade  no  less  demand  thy  care. 
In  a  large  square  the  adjacent  field  enclose  ; 
There  plant,  in  equal  ranks,  the  spreading  elm. 
Or  fragrant  lime  ;  most  happy  thy  design, 
If  at  the  bottom  of  thy  spacious  court 
A  large  canal,  fed  by  the  crystal  brook, 
From  its  transparent  bosom  shall  reflect 
Thy  downward  structure  and  inverted  grove. 


Here,  when  the  sun's  too  potent  gleams  annoy 
The  crowded  kennel  ;  and  the  drooping  pack. 
Restless  and  faint,  loll  their  unmoistened  tongues, 
And.drop  their  feebjo  tails  ;  to  cooler  shades 
Lead  forth  the  panting  tribes  :  soon  shalt  thou  find 
The  cordial  breeze  their  fainting  hearts  revive  : 
Tumultuous  soon  they  plunge  into  the  stream, 
There  lave  their  reeking  sides  ;  with  greedy  joy 
Gulp  down  the  flying  wave  ;  this  way  and  that 
From  shore  to  shore  they  swim,  while  clamor  loud 
And  wild  uproar  torment  the  troubled  flood  : 
Then  on  the  sunny  bank  they  roll  and  stretch 
Their  dripping  limbs,  or  else  in  wanton  rings 
Coursing  around,  pursuing  and  pursued. 
The  merry  multitude  disporting  play. 


But  here  with  watchful  and  observant  eye 
Attend  the  frolics  which  too  often  end 
In  bloody  broils  and  death.     High  o'er  thy  head 
Wave  thy  resounding  whip,  and  with  a  voice 
Fierce,  menacing,  o'errule  the  stern  debate, 
And  quench  their  kindling  rage  :  for  oft,  in  sport 
Begun,  combat  cnsiios  :  p;rnivling  they  snarl. 
Then,  on  tlnii  Idiuh^Ii'-  m  :iii'ii,  rampant  they  seize 
Each  othiT'.^  tlm  [ii-,  with  iruth  and  claws  in  gore 
Besmeared  ;    tiny  wi.uuJ,    tUcy  tear,   till   on  the 

ground. 
Panting,  half-dead,  the  conquered  champion  lies  : 
Then  sudden  all  the  base,  ignoble  crowd, 
Loud-clam'ring,  seize  the  helpless,  worried  wretch, 
And,  thirsting  for  his  blood,  drag  difi'erent  ways 
His  mangled  carcass  on  th*  ensanguined  plain. 
0  beasts  of  pity  void  !  to  oppress  the  weak. 
To  point  your  vengeance  at  the  friendless  head. 
And  with  one  mutual  cry  insult  the  fallen  ! 
Emblem  too  just  of  man's  degenerate  race. 


Others  apart,  by  native  instinct  led, 
Knowing  instructor  !  'mong  the  ranker  grass 
Cull  each  salubrious  plant,  with  bitter  juice 
Conoootive  stored,  and  potent  to  allay 
Each  vicious  ferment.     Thus  the  hand  divine 
Of  Providence,  beneficent  and  kind 
To  all  His  creatures,  for  the  brutes  prescribes 
A  ready  remedy,  and  is  himself 
Their  great  Physician.     Now  grown  stiff  with  age 
And  many  a  painful  chase,  the  wise  old  bound. 
Regardless  of  the  frolic  pack,  attends 
His  master's  side,  or  slumbers  at  his  ease 
Beneath  the  bending  shade  :  there  many  a  ring 
Runs  o'er  in  dreams  ;  now  on  the  doubtful  soil 
Puzzles  perplexed,  or  doubles  intricate. 
Cautious  unfolds  ;  then,  winged  with  all  his  speed, 
Bounds  o'er  the  lawn  to  seize  his  panting  prey, 
And  in  imperfect  whimpering  speaks  his  joy. 


A  different  hound  for  every  different  chase 
Select  with  judgment ;  nor  the  timorous  hare 


AUTUMN  —  OCTOBER. 


847 


Commtohcd  destroy,  but  Icavo  tliot  vilo  offence 

To  the  mean,  murderous,  coursing  crew,  intent 

On  blood  and  spoil.  0,  blast  their  hopes,  just  Heaven! 

And  all  their  painful  drudgeries  repay 

AVith  disappointmeut  and  severe  remorse. 

But  husband  thou  thy  pleosures,  and  give  soopo 

To  all  her  subtle  play.     By  nature  led, 

A  thousand  shifts  she  tries  ;  to  unravel  those 

The  industrious  beagle  twists  his  waving  tail, 

Through  all  her  labyrinths  pursues,  and  rings 

Her  doleful  knell.   See  then  with  countenance  blithe, 

And  with  a  courtly  grin,  the  fawning  hound 

Salutes  thee  cowering  ;  his  wide-opening  nose 

Upwards  he  curls  :  and  his  large,  sloe-black  eyes 

Melt  in  soft  blandishments  and  humbled  joy  : 

His  glossy  skin,  or  yellow  pied,  or  blue, 

In  lights  or  shades  by  Nature's  pencil  drawn, 

Reflects  the  various  tints  ;  his  rush-grown  tail 

O'er  his  broad  back  bends  in  an  ample  arch  : 

On  shoulders  clean,  upright  and  firm  he  stands  ; 

His  round  cat-foot,  straight  hams,  and  wide-spread 

thighs, 
And  his  low-drooping  chest,  confess  his  speed. 
His  strength,  his  wind,  or  on  the  steepy  hill, 
Or  fnr-extended  plain  ;   in  every  part 
So  well  proportioned,  that  the  nicer  skill 
Of  Phidias  himself  can't  blame  thy  choice  :  — 
Of  such  compose  thy  pack.     But  here  a  mean 
Observe,  nor  the  large  hound  prefer,  of  size 
Gigantic  ;  he  in  the  thick-woven  covert 
Painfully  tugs,  or  in  the  thorny  brake. 
Torn  and  embarrassed,  bleeds  ;  but  if  too  small, 
The  pigmy  brood  in  every  furrow  swims  ; 
Moiled  in  the  clogging  clay,  panting  they  lag 
Behind,  inglorious  ;  or  else,  shivering,  creep, 
Benumbed  and  faint,  beneath  the  sheltering  thorn  : 
For  hounds^of  middle  size,  active  and  strong, 
■\Vill  better  answer  all  thy  various  ends, 
And  crown  thy  pleasing  labors  with  success. 


As  some  brave  captain,  curious  and  exact, 
By  his  fixed  standard  forms  in  equal  ranks 
His  gay  battalion,  as  one  man  they  move 
Step  after  step,  their  size  the  same,  their  arms 
Far  gleaming  dart  the  same  united  blaze  : 
Reviewing  generals  his  merit  own  ; 
How  regular  !  how  just !  and  all  his  cares 
Are  well  repaid  if  mighty  George  approve  :  — 
So  model  thou  thy  pack,  if  honor  touch 
Thy  generous  soul,  and  the  world's  just  applause  ; 
But  above  all  take  heed,  nor  mix  the  hounds 
Of  different  kinds  ;  discordant  sounds  shall  grate 
Thy  ears  offended,  and  a  lagging  line 
Of  babbling  curs  disgrace  thy  broken  pack. 


But  if  the  amphibious  otter  be  thy  chase. 
Or  stately  stag  that  o*er  the  woodland  reigns  ; 
Or  if  the  harmonious  thunder  of  the  field 
Delight  thy  ravished  ears  ;  the  deep-Sowed  bound 


Breed  up  with  care,  strong,  heavy,  slow,  but  sure  : 

Whose  ears,  doivn-hanging  from  his  thick  round  head, 

Shall  sweep  the  morning  dew;  whoso  clanging  voice 

Awake  the  mountain  echo  in  her  cell. 

And  shake  the  forests  :  the  bold  Talbot  kind 

Of  these  the  prime,  as  white  as  Alpine  snows  ; 

And  great  their  use  of  old.     Upon  the  banks 

Of  Tweed,  slow-winding  through  the  vale,  the  seat 

Of  war  and  rapine  once,  ere  Britons  knew 

The  sweets  of  peace,  or  Anna's  dread  commands 

To  busting  leagues  the  haughty  rivals  awe<l,  — 

There  dwelt  a  pilfering  race,  well  trained  and  skilled 

In  all  the  mysteries  of  theft,  the  spoil 

Their  only  substance,  feuds  and  war  their  sport ; 

Nor  more  expert  in  every  fraudful  art 

The  arch  felon  '  wivs  of  old,  who  by  the  tail 

Drew  back  his  lowing  prize  :  in  vain  his  wiles, 

In  vain  the  shelter  of  the  covering  rock, 

In  vain  the  sooty  cloud  and  ruddy  flumes 

That  issued  from  his  mouth  :  for  soon  he  paid 

His  forfeit  life  j  a  debt  how  justly  due 

To  wronged  Alcides  and  avenging  Heaven  ! 

Veiled  in  the  shades  of  night  they  ford  the  stream. 

Then  prowling  far  and  near,  whatc'cr  they  seize 

Becomes  their  prey  ;  nor  flocks  nor  herds  are  safe, 

Nor  stalls  protect  the  steer,  nor  strong-barred  doors 

Secure  the  favorite  horse.     Soon  as  the  morn 

Reveals  his  wrongs,  with  ghastly  visage  wan, 

The  plundered  owner  stands,  and  from  his  lips 

A  thousand  thronging  curses  burst  their  way  : 

He  calls  his  stout  allies,  and  in  a  line 

His  faithful  hound  he  lends,  then,  with  a  voice 

That  utters  loud  his  rage,  attentive  chocra  ; 

Soon  the  sagacious  brute,  his  curling  tail 

Flourished  in  air,  low-bending  plies  around 

His  busy  nose,  the  steaming  vapor  snuffs 

Inquisitive,  nor  leaves  one  turf  untried. 

Till,  conscious  of  the  recent  strains,  his  heart 

Beats  quick  ;  his  snufling  nose,  his  active  tail. 

Attest  his  joy  ;  then  with  deep-opening  mouth, 

That  makes  the  welkin  tremble,  he  proclaims 

The  audacious  felon  :  foot  by  foot  he  marks 

His  winding  way,  while  all  the  listening  crowd 

Applaud  his  reasonings.     O'er  the  watery  ford. 

Dry  sandy  heaths,  and  stony  barren  hills. 

O'er  beaten  paths,  with  men  and  beasts  distained, 

Unerring  he  pursues,  till  at  the  cot 

Arrived,  and  seizing  by  his  guilty  throat 

The  caitiff  vile,  redeems  the  captive  prey  :  — 

So  exquisitely  delicate  his  sense  ! 

CilSES  OP  SCEST  ISD  SCBXTISO. 

Should  some  more  curious  sportsman  hero  inquire 
Whence  this  sagacity,  this  wondrous  power 
Of  tracing  step  by  stop  or  man  or  brute  7 
What  guide  invisible  points  out  their  way 
O'er  the  dark  marsh,  bleak  hill,  and  sandy  plain  7 
The  courteous  muse  shall  the  dark  cause  reveal. 

The  blood  that  from  the  heart  inccs.<>ant  rolls 
In  many  a  crimson  tide,  then  hero  and  there 
1  Cacus  i  see  VirgU's  JBneid,  book  vlli. 


■  RUKAL    POETRY. SOMERVILLE. 


In  smaller  rills  disported,  as  it  flows 

Propelled,  the  serous  particles  evade 

Througli  the  open  pores,  and  with  the  amhient  air 

Entangling  mix.     As  fuming  ^  a]  ors  riw 

And  hang  upon  the  gently-]  nil  i  g  biook 

There  by  the  incumbent  atmo^I  1  ore  c  mpressed 

The  panting  chase  grows  warmei  as  he  fl  cs 

And  through  the  net-work  of  the    lim  perspires 

Leaves  a  long,  streaming  trail  behin  1  which  by 

The  cooler  air  condensed,  remain's  unless 

By  some  rude  storm  dispersed   or  rarefied 

By  the  meridian  sun's  intenser  heat 

To  every  shrub  the  warm  effluv  la  cling 

Hang  on  the  grass,  impregnate  earth  and  skies 

With  nostrils  opening  wide   o  ei  hill   o  er  dale 

The  vigorous  hounds  pursue  with  every  bieath 

Inhale  the  grateful  steam,  [  uck  pleas  i  es  st  ng 

Their  tingling  nerves,  while  they  then  thankb  repay 

And  in  triumphant  melody  c  i  f 

The  titillating  joy.     Thus  on  thL  a  r 

Depend  the  hunter's  hopes. 


When  ruddy  streaks 
At  eve  forebode  a  blustering,  stormy  day, 
Or  lowering  clouds  blacken  the  mountain's  brow  ; 
With  nipping  frosts,  and  the  keen,  biting  blasts 
Of  the  dry,  parching  east,  menace  the  trees 
With  tender  blossoms  teeming  ;  kindly  spare 
Thy  sleeping  pack,  in  their  warm  beds  of  straw 
Low-sinking  at  their  ease  !  listless  they  shrink 
Into  some  dark  recess,  nor  hear  thy  voice. 
Though  oft  invoked  ;  or  haply  if  thy  call 
Rouse  up  the  slumbering  tribe  witli  heavy  eyes. 
Glazed,  lifeless,  dull,  downward  they  drop  their  tails 
Inverted  :  high  on  their  bent  backs  erect 
Their  pointed  bristles  stare,  or  'inong  the  tufts 
Of  ranker  weeds  each  stomach-healing  plant 
Curious  they  crop,  sick,  spiritless,  forlorn. 
These  inauspicious  days  on  other  cares 
Employ  thy  precious  hours  ;  the  improving  friend 
With  open  arms  embrace,  and  from  his  lips 
Glean  science,  seasoned  with  good-natured  wit : 
But  if  the  inclement  skies  and  angry  Jove 
Forbid  the  pleasing  intercourse,  thy  books 
Invite  thy  ready  hand  ;   each  sacred  page 
Rich  with  the  wise  remarks  of  heroes  old  : 
Converse  familiar  with  the  illustrious  dead  ; 
With  great  examples  of  old  Greece  or  Rome 
Enhirge  tliy  free-born  heart,  and  bless  kind  Ueaven 
That  Britain  yet  enjoys  dear  liberty. 
That  balm  of  life,  that  sweetest  blessing,  cheap, 
Though  purchased  with  our  blood.  Well-bred,  polite, 
Credit  thy  calling.     See  !  how  mean,  how  low. 
The  bookless,  sauntering  youth,  proud  of  the  skut 
That  dignifies  his  cap,  his  flourished  belt, 
And  rusty  couples  jingling  by  his  side  ! 
Be  thou  of  other  mould  ;  and  know  that  such 
Transporting  pleasures  were  by  Heaven  ordained 
Wisdom's  relief,  and  Virtue's  great  reward. 


BOOKS  II.,  m.,  AND   IV. 


To    bier 
The  1  lut 


■ing  guide 
insloie 


Anl   oft  tra  1        II        n  trught    the  roebuck 

L  iteis  at  ea  e  1    fore  the  In  ing  pack  [swift 

And  mocks  then  vain  i    i  uit  noi  far  he  flies 
But  checks  his  ardor,  till  tl  e  steaming  scent 
That  freshens  on  the  blade  provokes  their  rage. 
Urged  to  their  speed,  his  weak,  deluded  foes 
Soon  flag  fatigued  ;  strained  to  excess,  each  nerve. 
Each  slackened  sinew,  fails  :  they  pant,  they  foam  : 
Then  o'er  the  lawn  he  bounds,  o'er  the  high  hills 
Stretches  secure,  and  leaves  the  scattered  crowd 
To  iiiu/.Ir  ill  tlir  ,li-tant  vale  below. 

i  1-  iii-tiiiii  ilmt  directs  the  jealous  hare 
To  riiun-r  hrr  - .. It  nbodc.     With  step  reversed 
Shi.'  Iniiii-  till-  ilouliling  maze  ;   then,  ere  the  morn 
Peeps  through  the  clouds,  leaps  to  her  close  recess. 

As  wandering  shepherds  on  the  Arabian  plains 
No  settled  residence  observe,  but  shift 
Their  moving  camp  ;  now  on  some  cooler  hill. 
With  cedars  crowned,  court  the  refreshing  breeze  ; 
And  then  below,  where  trickling  streams  distil 
From  some  penurious  source,  their  thirst  allay. 
And  feed  their  fainting  flocks  :  so  the  wise  hares 
Oft  quit  their  seats,  lest  some  more  curious  eye 
Should  mark  their  haunts,  and  by  dark  treacherous 

wiles 
Plot  their  destruction  ;  or  perchance  in  hopes 
Of  plenteous  forage,  near  the  ranker  mead 
Or  matted  blade  wary  and  close  they  sit. 
When  Spring  shines  forth,  season  of  love  and  joy. 
In  the  moist  marsh,  'mong  beds  of  rushes  hid, 
They  cool  their  boiling  blood.     When  Summer  suns 
Bake  the  clift  earth,  to  thick  wide-waving  fields 
Of  corn  full-gruwn  they  lead  their  helpless  young  ; 
But  when  Autumnal  torrents  and  fierce  rains 
Deluge  the  vale,  in  the  dry,  crumbling  bank 
Their  forms  they  delve,  and  cautiously  avoid 
The  dripping  covert :  yet  when  Winter's  cold 
Their  limbs  benumbs,  thither  with  speed  returned, 
In  the  long  grass  they  skulk,  or  shrinking  creep 
Among  the  withered  leaves  :  thus  changing  still 
As  fancy  prompts  them,  or  as  food  invites. 


AUTUMN  —  OCTOBER. 


But  orery  season  carefully  observed, 
The  inconstant  winds,  the  fickle  clement, 
The  wise,  experienced  huntsman  soon  may  find 
His  subtle,  various  game,  nor  waste  in  vain 
His  tedious  hours,  till  his  impatient  hounds. 
With  disappointment  vexed,  each  springing  lark 
Babbling  pursue,  far  scattered  o'er  the  fields. 

UARE-nCNTINa  i    ACl 

Now  golden  Autumn  from  her  open  lap 
Her  fragrant  bounties  showers  ;  the  fields  are  shorn: 
Inwardly  smiling,  the  proud  farmer  views 
The  rising  pyramids  that  grace  his  yard, 
And  counts  his  large  increase  :  his  barns  are  stored ; 
And  groaning  staddles  bend  beneath  their  load. 
All  now  is  free  as  air,  and  the  gay  pack 
In  the  rough,  bristly  stubble  ran;;o  unblamcd. 
No  widow's  tea:->  "'■  1 1' n  .  i         .1,1  viirso 

Swells  in  the  far '  ,1,  Lis  pale  lips 

Trembling  com'.  :i  I.  I  ,  ;   ,    :  (nlli.rd  awed  ; 

But  courteous  now  li,    1,  ,    ].  .  inj  lunce, 
•Joins  in  tho  common  cry,  and  Lulloos  loud, 
Charmed  with  tho  rattling  thunder  of  the  field. 

0  bear  me,  some  kind  power  invisible  ! 
To  tluit  extended  lawn,  where  tho  gay  court 
View  tho  swift  racers  stretching  to  tho  goal  ; 
(James  more  renowned,  and  a  far  nobler  train. 
Than  proud  Elean  field  could  boast  of  old  ; 
0,  were  a  Theban  lyre  not  wanting  here. 
And  Pindar's  voice,  to  do  their  merit  right !     [eye, 
Or  to  those  spacious  plains '  where  tho  strained 
In  the  wide  prospect  lost,  beholds  at  last 
iSarum's  proud  spire,'  that  o'er  the  hills  ascends. 
Ami  pierces  through  the  clouds  :  or  to  thy  downs. 
Fair  Cotiwold  !    where   tho  well-breathed   beagle 

climbs, 
With  matchless  speed,  thy  green,  aspiring  brow. 
And  leaves  tho  lagging\iultitudo  behind. 

Hail,  gentle  Dawn  !  mild  blushing  goddess,  hail ! 
Rejoiced  I  sec  thy  purple  mantle  spread 
O'er  half  the  skies  ;  gems  pave  thy  radiant  way, 
And  orient  pearls  from  every  shrub  depend. 

Farewell,  Cleora  !  here,  deep  sunk  in  down, 
Slumber  secure,  with  happy  dreams  amused. 
Till  grateful  steams  shall  tempt  thee  to  receive 
Thy  early  meal  ;  or  thy  officious  maids, 
Tho  toilet  placed,  shall  urge  thee  to  perform 
The  important  work.     Me  other  joys  invito  ; 
The  horn  sonorous  calls,  tho  pack  awaked 
Their  matins  chant,  nor  brook  my  long  delay  ; 
My  courser  hears  their  voice  :  see  there  !  with  ears 
And  tail  erect,  neighing  he  paws  the  ground  ; 
Fierce  rapture  kindles  in  his  reddening  eyes, 
And  boils  in  every  vein.     As  captive  boys. 
Cowed  by  the  ruling  rod  and  haughty  frowns 
Of  pedagogues  severe,  from  their  hard  tasks 
If  once  dismissed,  no  limits  can  contain 

'  "  Salisbury  Cathedral  5  —  Stonehengc  is  on  Salisbury 


Tho  tumult  raised  within  their  little  breasts. 
But  give  a  loose  to  all  their  frolic  play  ; 
So  from  their  kennel  rush  tho  joyous  pack  ; 
A  thousand  wanton  gayeties  express 
Their  inward  ccsta..<y,  their  pleasing  sport 
Once  more  indulged,  and  liberty  restored. 
Tho  rising  sun,  that  o'er  the  horizon  peeps, 
As  many  colors  from  their  glossy  skins 
Beaming  reflects,  as  paint  tho  various  bow 
When  April  showers  descend.     Delightful  scon 
Where  all  around  is  gay  —  men,  horses,  dogs  ; 
And  in  each  smiling  countenance  appears 
Fresh  blooming  health,  and  universal  joy. 


PiCK  i  PCTTISO  TDBM  OS 

CRY GENERAL  EXCITK- 

PLOIGU- 


IIiii  !  ill  n   '111    11  ;  behind  the  clustering  pack 
Pu'ii         .      :.  I,  :    ,u  with  respect  thy  whip 
I.""  I  '  !    !  i(i  I  I  liy  harsher  voice  obey. 

Siijir   Ml  il,.     (iiL'LjIiMg  cur  that  wildly  roves, 
But  let  thy  bri:!k  assistant  on  his  back 
Imprint  shy  just  resentment  ;  let  each  lash 
Bite  to  the  quick,  till  howling  ho  return, 
And  wliiuiii^'  .lull,  among  tho  trembling  crowd. 

II'  !•■  "11  lliy  i(  I'iaiit  spot  where  Nature  kind 
Willi  '1  iiit'lr  IiIi--Iml,'s  crowns  the  farmer's  hopes, 
Whir.'  Il'.w.rc  autumnal  spring,  and  the  rank  mead 
Affords  tho  wandering  hares  a  rich  repast. 
Throw  off  thy  ready  pack.     See  where  they  spread, 
And  ran-L'  ar.,un.;I,  au.I  .la-h  the  flittering  dew  ! 


The  . 


ills 


Repeat  the  pleasing  tale.     See  how  they  thread 
Tho  brakes,  and  up  yon  furrow  drive  along  ! 
But  quick  they  back  recoil,  and  wisely  check 
Their  eager  baste  ;  then  o'er  the  fallowed  ground 
How  leisurely  they  work,  and  many  a  pause 
The  harmonious  concert  breaks  ;  till,  more  assured, 
With  joy  redoubled  tho  low  valleys  ring. 
What  artful  labyrinths  perplex  their  way  !    [doubts 

Ah  !  there  she  lies  ;   how  close !  she  pants,  sho 
If  now  sho  lives  :  she  trembles  as  sho  sits. 
With  horror  seized.     The  withered  grass  that  clings 
Around  her  head,  of  the  same  russet  hue. 
Almost  deceived  my  sight,  had  not  her  eyes. 
With  life  full  beaming,  her  vain  wiles  betrayed. 

At  distance  draw  thy  pack  ;  let  all  bo  hushed  ; 
No  clamor  loud,  no  frantic  joy,  be  heard  ; 
l/cst  the  wild  hound  run  gadding  o'er  tho  plain 
Untractablc,  nor  hear  thy  chiding  voice. 
Now  gently  put  her  off ;  see  how  direct  [bring 

To   her   known   mew  she  flies  !     Here,  huntsman, 
(But  without  hurry)  all  thy  jolly  hounds. 
And  calmly  lay  them  in.     How  low  they  stoop 
And  seem  to  plough  tho  ground  !  then  all  at  onco 
With  greedy  nostrils  snuff  the  fuming  steam  [loose 
That  glads  their  fluttering  hearts.    As  winds  lot 


350 


RURAL    POETRY. SOMERVILLE. 


From  the  dark  caverns  of  the  blustering  god. 
They  burst  away,  and  sweep  the  dewy  lawn.    [fear. 
Hope  gives  them  wings,  while  she 's  spurred  on  by  | 

The  welkin  rings  ;    men,  dogs,  hills,  rocks,  and  i 
woods,  j 

In  the  full  concert  join.     Now,  my  brave  youths  !      , 
Stripped  for  the  chase  give  all  your  souls  to  joy. 
See  how  their  coursers,  than  the  mountain  roe 
More  fleet,  the  verdant  carpet  skim  !    Thick  clouds  1 
Snorting  they  breathe,  their  shining  hoofs  scarce 
The  grass  unbruised  ;  with  emulation  fired,    [print 
They  strain  to  lead  the  field,  top  the  barred  gate. 
O'er  the  deep  ditch  exulting  bound,  and  brush 
The  thorny-twining  hedge  :  the  riders  bend 
O'er  their  arched  necks  ;  with  steady  hands  by  turns 
Indulge  their  speed,  or  moderate  their  rage. 
Where  are  their  sorrows,  disappointments,  wrongs. 
Vexations,  sickness,  cares  ?     All,  all  are  gone  ! 
And  with  the  panting  winds  lag  far  behind. 

Huntsman  !  her  gait  observe  ;  if  in  wide  rings 
She  wheel  her  mazy  way,  in  the  same  round 
Persisting  still,  she  'II  foil  the  beaten  track  : 
But  if  she  fly,  and  with  the  favoring  wind 
Urge  her  bold  course,  less  intricate  thy  task  ; 
Push  on  thy  pack.     Like  some  poor  exiled  wretch. 
The  frighted  chase  leaves  late  her  dear  abodes, 
O'er  plains  remote  she  stretches  far  away, 
Ah,  never  to  return  !  for  greedy  Death 
Hovering  exults,  secure  to  seize  his  prey.         [oaks 

Hark  !    from  yon  covert,  where  those  towering 
Above  the  humble  copse  aspiring  rise. 
What  glorious  triumphs  burst  in  every  gale 
Upon  our  ravished  ears  !     The  hunter's  shout, 
The  clanging  horns  swell  their  full-winding  notes. 
The  pack  wide-opening  load  the  trembling  air 
With  various  melody  ;  from  tree  to  tree 
The  propagated  cry  redoubling  bounds  ; 
And  winged  zephyrs  waft  the  floating  joy 
Through  all  the  regions  near.     Afflictive  birch 
No  more  the  school-boy  dreads  ;  his  prison  broke. 
Scampering  he  flies,  nor  heeds  his  master's  call. 
The  weary  traveller  forgets  his  road, 
And  climbs  the  adjacent  hill.  The  ploughman  leaves 
The  unfinished  furrow  ;  nor  his  bleating  flocks 
Are  now  the  shepherd's  joy.     Men,  boys,  and  girls, 
Desert  the  unpeopled  village  ;  and  wild  crowds 
Spread  o'er  the  plain,  by  the  sweet  frenzy  seized. 


Look  how  she  pants  !  and  o'er  yon  opening  glade 
Slips  glancing  by  :  while  at  the  further  end 
The  puzzling  pack  unravel,  wile  by  wile. 
Maze  within  maze.     The  covert's  utmost  bound 
Slyly  she  skirts  ;  behind  them  cautious  creeps. 
And  in  that  very  track  so  lately  stained 
By  all  the  steaming  crowd,  seems  to  pursue 
The  foe  she  flies.     Let  cavillers  deny 
That  brutes  have  reason  ;  sure 't  is  something  more  ; 
'T  is  Heaven  directs,  and  stratagems  inspires 
Beyond  the  short  extent  of  human  thought. 


But  hold  —  I  see  her  from  the  covert  break  ; 
Sad  on  yon  little  eminence  she  sits  ; 
Intent  she  listens  with  one  ear  erect. 
Pondering  and  doubtful  what  new  course  to  take. 
And  how  to  'scape  the  fierce,  blood-thirsty  crew 
That  still  urge  on,  and  still,  in  volleys  loud. 
Insult  her  woes,  and  mock  her  sore  distress. 

As  now  in  louder  peals  the  loaded  winds 
Bring  on  the  gathering  storm,  her  fears  prevail. 
And  o'er  the  plain,  and  o'er  the  mountain's  ridge. 
Away  she  flies  ;  nor  ships  with  wind  and  tide. 
And  all  their  canvas  wings,  scud  half  so  fast. 
Once  more,  ye  jovial  train  !  your  courage  try. 
And  each  clean  courser's  speed.     We  scour  along 
In  pleasing  hurry  and  confusion  tossed  ; 
Oblivion  to  be  wished  !     The  patient  pack 
Hang  on  the  scent  unwearied  ;    up  they  climb, 
And  ardent  we  pursue  ;  our  laboring  steeds 
We  press,  we  gore  ;  till,  once  the  summit  gained. 
Painfully  panting,  there  wo  breathe  a  while  ; 
Then,  like  a  foaming  torrent  pouring  down 
Precipitant,  we  smoke  along  the  vale. 
Happy  the  man,  who,  with  unrivalled  speed, 
Can  pass  his  fellows,  and  with  pleasure  view 
The  struggling  pack  !  how  in  the  rapid  course 
Alternate  they  preside,  and  jostling  push 
To  guide  the  dubious  scent  ;  how  giddy  youth 
Oft  blabbering  errs,  by  wiser  age  reproved  ; 
How,  niggard  of  his  strength,  the  wise  old  hound 
Hangs  in  the  rear,  till  some  important  point 
Rouse  all  his  diligence,  or  till  the  chase 
Sinking  he  finds  ;   then  to  the  head  he  springs. 
With  thirst  of  glory  fired,  and  wins  the  prize. 

Huntsman  !  take  heed  ;  they  stop  in  full  career  ; 
Yon  crowding  flocks,  that  at  a  distance  gaze, 
Have  haply  foiled  the  turf.     See  that  old  hound, 
How  busily  he  works,  but  dares  not  trust 
His  doubtful  sense  !     Draw^^et  a  wider  ring. 
Hark  !  now  again  the  chorus  fills  ;  as  bells, 
Sallied  a  while,  at  once  their  peal  renew, 
And  high  in  air  the  tuneful  thunder  rolls. 
See  how  they  toss,  with  animated  rage 
Recovering  all  they  lost !     That  eager  haste 
Some  doubling  wile  foreshows.    Ah  !  yet  once  more 
They're   checked  —  hold    back   with    speed -.- on 

either  hand 
They  flourish  round  —  e'en  yet  persist  —  'tis  right: 
Away  they  spring  ;  the  rustling  stubble  bends 
Beneath  the  driving  storm.     Now  the  poor  chase 
Begins  to  flag,  to  her  last  shifts  reduced. 
From  brake  to  brake  she  flics,  and  visits  all  [secure 
Her  well-known    haunts,  where  once    she   ranged 
With  love  and  plenty  blest.     See  !  there  she  goes  ; 
She  reels  along,  and  by  her  gait  betrays 
Her  inward  weakness.     See  how  black  she  looks  ! 
The  sweat  that  clogs  the  obstructed  pores  scarce 
A  languid  scent.     And  now  in  open  view       [leaves 
See  !  see  !  she  flies  ;  each  eager  hound  exerts 
His  utmost  speed,  and  stretches  every  nerve. 
How  quick  she  turns,  their  gaping  jaws  eludes, 


AUTUMN  —  OCTOBER. 


351 


And  yet  a  moment  lives,  till,  round  enclosed 
By  all  the  greedy  pack,  with  infant  screams 
She  yields  her  breath,  and  there  reluctant  dies  ! 

So  when  the  furious  Bacchanals  assailed 
Thrcioian  Orpheus,  poor,  ill-fal«d  bard  ! 
Loud  ivas  the  cry;  hills,  woods,  and  Ilcbrus'  banks. 
Returned  their  clamorous  rage  :  distressed  ho  flies. 
Shifting  from  place  to  place,  but  flies  in  vain  : 
For  eager  they  pursue  ;  till  panting,  faint. 
By  noisy  multitudes  o'erpowered,  he  sinks 
To  the  relentless  crowd  a  bleeding  prey. 

The  huntsman  now,  a  deep  incision  made. 
Shakes  out  with  hands  impure,  and  dashes  down, 
Her  reeking  entrails,  and  yet  quivering  heart. 
These  claim  the  pack,  the  bloody  perquisite 
For  all  their  toils  :  stretched  on  the  ground  she  lies 
A  mangled  corse  ;  in  her  dim-glaring  eyes 
Cold  Death  exults,  and  stiffens  every  limb. 
Awed  by  the  threatening  whip,  the  furious  hounds 
Around  her  bay,  or  at  their  master's  foot 
Each  happy  favorite  courts  his  kind  applause, 
With  humble  adulation  cowering  low. 
All  now  is  joy.     With  cheeks  full-blown  they  wind 
Uer  solemn  dirge,  while  the  loud-opening  pack 
The  concert  swell,  and  hills  and  dales  return 
The  sadly-pleasing  sounds.     Thus  the  poor  hare, 
A  puny,  dastard  animal,  but  versed 
In  subtle  wiles,  diverts  the  youthful  train. 

A  TiRTAR  UINT  ;  ACRESC^.EBE  OOISO  FOBTH  IS  POMP. 

But  if  thy  proud,  aspiring  soul  disdains 
So  mean  a  prey,  delighted  with  the  pomp. 
Magnificence,  and  grandeur,  of  the  chase  ; 
Hear  what  the  muso  from  faithful  record  sings. 

Why  on  the  banks  of  Gemna,  Indian  stream. 
Line  within  line  rise  the  pavilions  proud. 
Their  silken  streamers  waving  in  the  wind  ? 
Why  neighs  the  warrior  horse  ?     From  tent  to  tent 
Why  press  in  crowds  the  buzzing  multitude? 
Why  shines  the  polished  helm  and  jjointcd  lance, 
This  way  and  that  far  beaming  o'er  the  plain  ? 
Nor  Visapour  nor  Golconda  rebel. 
Nor  the  great  Sophy,  with  his  numerous  host, 
Lays  waste  the  provinces,  nor  glory  fires 
To  rob  ond  to  destroy,  beneath  the  name 
And  specious  guiso  of  war.     A  nobler  cause 
Calls  Aurengzebe  to  arms.     No  cities  sacked, 
No  mother's  tears,  no  helpless  orphan's  cries. 
No  violated  leagues,  with  sharp  remorse 
Shall  sting  the  conscious  victor,  but  mankind 
Shall  hail  him  good  and  just  :  for  't  is  on  beasts 
lie  draws  his  vengeful  sword  ;  on  beasts  of  prey. 
Full  fed  with  human  gore.     See,  see,  he  comes  ! 
Imperial  Delhi,  opening  wide  her  gates, 
Pours  out  her  thronging  legions,  bright  in  arms, 
And  all  the  pomp  of  war.     Before  them  sound 
Clarions  and  trumpets,  breathing  martial  airs 
And  bold  defiance.     High  upon  his  throne. 
Borne  on  the  back  of  his  proud  elephant. 
Sits  the  great  chief  of  Timur's  glorious  race  ; 
Sublime  he  sits  amid  the  radiant  blaze 


Of  gems  and  gold.    Omrahs  about  him  crowd. 
And  rein  the  Arabian  steed,  and  watch  his  nod. 
And  potent  rajahs,  who  themselves  preside 
O'er  realms  of  wide  extent  ;  but  here  submiss 
Their  homage  pay,  alternate  kings  and  slaves  ; 
Next  these,  with  prying  eunuchs  girt  around. 
The  fair  sultanas  of  his  court ;  a  troop 
Of  chosen  beauties,  but  with  care  concealed 
From  each  intrusive  eye  ;  one  look  is  death. 
.Ah  !  cruel  Eastern  law  (had  kings  a  power 
But  equal  to  their  wild  tyrannic  will)  ! 
To  rob  us  of  the  sun's  all-cheering  ray 
Were  less  severe.     The  vulgar  close  the  march. 
Slaves  and  artificers  ;  and  Delhi  mourns 
Her  empty  and  depopulated  streets. 

THF.  GRAND  BIOOUL'S  IIUSTISO  CAMP.  —  PORirS,  XBRXRS.  — 
BU.VTlSa.0RO0.VD  MARKED  j  LAWS  OP  THE  UDNT  PROMUL- 
GATED.—  CIRCUIT  STATIONED.  —  DESPOTIC  ORDER. 

Now  at  the  camp  arrived,  with  stern  review, 
Through  groves  of  spears  from  file  to  file  ho  darts 
His  sharp,  experienced  eye,  their  order  marks. 
Each  in  his  station  ranged,  exact  and  firm, 
Till  in  the  boundless  line  his  sight  is  lost. 
Not  greater  multitudes  in  arms  appeared 
On  these  extended  plains,  when  Ammon's  son 
With  mighty  Porus  in  dread  battle  joined. 
The  vassal  world  the  prize  ;  nor  was  that  host 
More  numerous  of  old  which  the  great  king 
Poured  out  on  Greece  from  all  the  unpeopled  East, 
That  bridf;c-.l  th.'  IMlr.;„„t  fr.  n-    h-^n-  to  shore, 
And  drank  ill''  1  n 'I —i           M    i :     '    !.   in  li-tR-jts 
The  busy  Imiii-'i  ni. '  <       ^i-nnil, 

u,..   ^,  liv.rs,  hills,  and  plliins, 


tify 


In  compass  nun  l  ;    u 

Largo  pr('\  in  '-,  < 

Ambition's  Iml-Iit-i  jnn,  ..uil.l  reason  bound 

Man's  erring'  will.     .Now  sit  in  close  divan 

The  mighty  chiefs  of  this  prodigious  host  ; 

He  from  the  throne  high  eminent  presides, 

G  ives  out  his  mandate  proud,  laws  of  the  chase, 

From  ancient  records  drawn.     AVith  reverence  low 

And  prostrate  at  his  feet,  the  chiefs  receive 

His  irreversible  decrees,  from  which 

To  vary  is  to  die.     Then  his  bravo  bands 

Each  to  his  station  leads,  encamping  round, 

Till  the  wide  circle  is  completely  formed. 

Where  decent  order  reigns,  what  these  command 

Those  execute  with  speed  and  punctual  care, 

In  all  the  strictest  discipline  of  war. 

As  if  some  watchful  foe,  with  bold  insult, 

Hung  lowering  o'er  their  camp.     The  high  resolve. 

That  flies  on  wings  through  all  the  encircling  line, 

Each  motion  steers,  and  animates  the  whole. 

So,  by  the  sun's  attractive  power  controlled. 

The  planets  in  their  spheres  roll  round  his  orb  ; 

On  all  he  shines,  and  rules  the  great  machine. 


Ere  yet  the  mom  dispels  the  fleeting  mists. 
The  signal  given  by  the  loud  trumpet's  voice. 


352 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  SOMERVILLE. 


Now  high  in  air  the  imperial  standard  waves, 
Emblazoned  rich  with  gold  and  glittering  gems, 
And  like  a  sheet  of  fire  through  the  dim  gloom 
Streaming  meteorous.     The  soldiers'  shouts. 
And  all  the  brazen  instruments  of  war, 
With  mutual  clamor  and  united  din 
Fill  the  large  concave,  while  from  camp  to  camp 
They  catch  the  varied  sounds  floating  in  air. 
Round  all  the  wide  circumference,  tigers  fell 
Shrink  at  the  noise  ;   deep  in  his  gloomy  den 
The  lion  starts,  and  morsels  yet  unchewed 
Drop  from  his  trembling  jaws.     Now,  all  at  once, 
Onward  they  march  embattled,  to  the  sound 
Of  martial  harmony  ;   fifes,  cornets,  drums, 
That  rouse  the  sleepy  soul  to  arms,  and  bold 
Heroic  deeds.     In  parties  here  and  there 
Detached  o'er  hill  and  dale,  the  hunters  range 
Inquisitive  ;  strong  dogs,  that  match  in  fight 
The  boldest  brute,  around  their  masters  wait, 
A  faithful  guard.     No  haunt  unsearched,  they  drive 
From  every  covert,  and  from  every  den. 
The  lurking  savages.     Incessant  shouts 
Reecho  through  the  woods,  o!nd  kindling  fires 
Gleam  from  the  mountain  tops  ;  the  forest  seems 
One  mingling  blaze  ;   like  flocks  of  sheep  they  fly 
Before  the  flaming  brand  ;  fierce  lions,  pards, 
Boars,  tigers,  bears,  and  wolves,  a  dreadful  crew 
Of  grim,  bloodthirsty  foes  !     Growling  along 
They  stalk  indignant,  but  fierce  vengeance  still 
Hangs  pealing  on  their  rear,  and  pointed  spears 
Present  immediate  death.     Soon  as  the  night. 
Wrapped  in  her  sable  veil,  forbids  the  chase, 
They  pitch  their  tents  in  even  ranks  around 
The  circling  camp.     The  guards  are  placed,  and  fires 
At  proper  distances  ascending  rise. 
And  paint  the  horizon  with  their  ruddy  light. 
So  round  some  island's  shore  of  large  extent, 
Amid  the  gloomy  horrors  of  the  night, 
The  billows,  breaking  on  the  pointed  rocks, 
Seem  all  one  flame,  and  the  bright  circuit  wide 
Appears  a  bulwark  of  surrounding  fire. 
What  dreadful  bowlings  and  what  hideous  roar 
Disturb  those  peaceful  shades  !  where  erst  the  bird 
That  glads  the  night  hiwi  cheered  the  listening  groves 
With  sweet  complainings.    Through  the  silent  gloom 
Oft  they  the  guards  assail ;  as  oft  repelled. 
They  fly  reluctant,  with  hot,  boiling  rage 
Stung  to  the  quick,  and  mad  with  wild  despair. 
Thus,  day  by  day,  they  still  the  chase  renew, 
At  night  encamp  ;  till  now  in  straiter  bounds 
The  circle  lessens,  and  the  beasts  perceive 
The  wall  that  hems  them  in  on  every  side. 
And  now  their  fury  bursts,  and  knows  no  mean  ; 
From  man  they  turn,  and  point  their  ill-judged  rage 
Against  their  fellow-brutes.     With  teeth  and  claws 
The  civil  war  begins  ;  grappling  they  tear  ; 
Lions  on  tigers  prey,  and  bears  on  wolves  ; 
Horrible  discord  !  till  the  crowd  behind 
Shouting  pursue,  and  part  the  bloody  fray. 
At  once  their  wrath  subsides  ;  tame  as  the  lamb 


The  lion  hangs  his  head  ;  the  furious  pard. 
Cowed  and  subdued,  flies  from  the  face  of  man 
Nor  bears  one  glance  of  his  commanding  eye  : 
So  abject  is  a  tyrant  in  distress. 


At  last,  within  the  narrow  plain  confined, 
A  listed  field,  marked  out  for  bloody  deeds, 
An  amphitheatre  more  glorious  far 
Than  ancient  Rome  could  boast,  they  crowd  in  heaps. 
Dismayed  and  quite  appalled.     In  meet  array. 
Sheathed  in  refulgent  arms,  a  noble  band 
Advance  ;  great  lords  of  high,  imperial  blood, 
Early  resolved  to  assert  the  royal  race. 
And  prove  by  glorious  deeds  their  valor's  growth 
Mature,  ere  yet  the  callow  down  has  spread 
Its  curling  shade.     On  bold  Arabian  steeds. 
With  decent  pride,  they  sit,  that  fearless  hear 
The  lion's  dreadful  roar  :  and  down  the  rock 
Swift-shooting  plunge,  or  o'er  the  mountain's  ridge 
Stretching  along,  the  greedy  tiger  leave 
Panting  behind.     On  foot  their  faithful  slaves. 
With  javelins  armed,  attend  ;  each  watchful  eye 
Fixed  on  his  youthful  care,  for  him  alone 
He  fears  ;  and,  to  redeem  bis  life,  unmoved 
Would  lose  his  own.     The  mighty  Aurengzebe 
From  his  high-elevated  throne  beholds 
His  blooming  race,  revolving  in  his  mind 
AVhat  once  he  was,  in  his  gay  spring  of  life, 
When  vigor  strung  his  nerves.     Parental  joy 
Melts  in  his  eyes,  and  flushes  in  his  cheeks. 
Now  the  loud  trumpet  sounds  a  charge.    The  shouts 
Of  eager  hosts  through  all  the  circling  line. 
And  the  wild  howling  of  the  beasts  within. 
Rend  the  [blue]  welkin  ;  flights  of  arrows,  winged 
AVith  death,  and  javelins  launched  from  every  arm, 
Gall  sore  the  brutal  bands,  with  many  a  wound 
Gored  through  and  through.  Despair  at  last  prevails, 
When  fainting  nature  shrinks,  and  rouses  all 
Their  drooping  courage.    Swelled  with  furious  rage, 
Their  eyes  dart  fire,  and  on  the  youthful  band 
They  rush  implacable.     They  their  broad  shields 
Quick  interpose  ;  on  each  devoted  head 
ThL'ir  flaming  falchions,  as  the  bolts  of  Jove, 
].)L'si.cnd  unerring.     Prostrate  on  the  ground 
The  grinning  monsters  lie,  and  their  foul  gore 
Defiles  the  vonhmt  ]^]a\r^.     Nor  idle  stand 
The  trusty  ^l;i\i  -  :  wlih  ]i(.iiitt.'d  spears  they  pierce 
Through  thru  imii-1i  hi'li-,  i>r;it  their  gaping  mouths 
An  easier  ii:i-;i-r  find.     'J'lu-  king  of  brutes 
In  broken  roarings  breathes  his  last ;  the  bear 
Grumbles  in  death  ;  nor  can  his  spotted  skin, 
Though  sleek  it  shine,  with  varied  beauties  gay, 
Save  the  proud  pard  from  unrelenting  fate. 
The  battle  bleeds  :  grim  slaughter  strides  along, 
Glutting  her  greedy  jaws,  grins  o'er  her  prey  — 
Men,  horses,  dogs,  fierce  beasts  of  every  kind, 
A  strange  promiscuous  carnage,  drenched  in  blood, 
And  heaps  on  heaps  amassed.     What  yet  remain 
Alive,  with  vain  assault  contend  to  break 


ADTUMN  —  OCTOBER. 


853 


The  imponetrablo  line.    Others,  whom  fear 
Inspires,  with  solf-prcserving  wiles,  beneath 
The  bodies  of  the  slain  for  shelter  creep. 
Aghast  they  fly,  or  hide  their  heads  dispersed. 

And  now,  perchance  (had  Heaven  but  pleased), 
tlic  work 
Of  death  had  been  complete,  and  Aurengzebo 
By  one  droa*l  frown  extinguished  half  their  race  ; 
When,  lo  !  the  bright  sultanas  of  his  court 
Appear,  and  to  his  ravished  eyes  display 
Those  cliarios  but  rarely  to  the  day  revealed. 

Lowly  thoy  bcnil,  and  humbly  sue  to  save 
The  vanquished  host.     What  mortal  can  deny 
When  suppliant  Beauty  begs  ?     At  his  command. 
Opening  to  right  and  left,  the  well-trained  troops 
Leave  a  largo  void  for  the  retreating  foes  : 
Away  tti-  V  Ily.  ■'[!  wiriu'^  of  fear  upborne. 
To  si'.U  ■  n  ili-iiiii  lull-  ilicir  late  abodes. 

Yu  I'l-.  Ill  1  p]  1.  —  r-  '  whoso  vain  hearts  exult 
In  warit'iniH--  <■['  p^'wrr.  — against  the  brutal  race, 
Fierce  robbers  like  yourselves,  a  guiltless  war 
Wage  uncontrolled  ;    here  quench  your  thirst  of 

blood  ; 
But  learn  from  Aurengzebe  to  spare  i 


UllADS   IMPOSED   UPON   WALKS  J    WOI 

In  Albion's  isle  when  glorious  Edgar  reigned. 
He,  wisely  provident,  from  her  white  cliffs 
Launched  half  her  foresU,  and  with  numerous  fleets 
Covered  his  wide  domain  ;  there  proudly  rode 
Lord  of  the  deep,  the  great  prerogative 
Of  British  monarchs  :  each  invader  bold, 
Dane  and  Norwegian,  at  a  distance  gazed. 
And,  disappointed,  gnashed  his  teeth  in  vain. 
Ho  scoured  his  seas,  and  to  remotest  shores 
With  swelling  sails  the  trembling  corsair  fled. 
Rich  commerce  flourished,  and  with  busy  oars 
Dashed  the  resounding  surge.     Nor  less  at  land 
His  royal  cares  ;  wise,  potent,  gracious  prince  ! 
His  subjects  from  their  cruel  foes  he  saved, 
And  from  rapacious  savages  their  flocks. 
Cambria's  proud  kings  (though  with  reluctance)  paid 
Their  tributary  wolves,  head  after  head. 
In  full  account  ;  till  the  woods  yield  no  more, 
And  all  the  ravenous  race  extinct  is  lost. 
In  fertile  pastures  more  securely  grazed 
The  social  troops,  and  soon  their  large  increase 
With  curling  fleeces  whitened  all  the  plains. 


But  yet,  alas  !  the  wily  fox  remained, 
A  subtle,  pilfering  foe,  prowling  around 
In  midnight  shades,  and  wakeful  to  destroy. 
In  the  full  fold  the  poor  defenceless  lamb. 
Seized  by  his  guileful  arts,  with  sweet,  warm  blood 
Supplies  a  rich  repast.     The  mournful  ewe. 
Her  dearest  treasure  lost,  through  the  dun  night 
Wanders  perplexed,  and  darkling  bleats  in  vain  ; 
While  in  the  adjacent  bush  poor  Philomel 
(Herself  a  parent  once,  till  wanton  churls 


45 


Despoiled  her  nest)  joins  in  her  loud  laments 
With  sweeter  notes  and  more  melodious  woo. 

For  these  nocturnal  thieves,  huntsman,  prepare 
Thy  sharpest  vengeance.     0  !  how  glorious  't  is 
To  right  the  oppressed,  and  bring  the  felon  vile 
To  just  disgrace  !     Ere  yet  the  morning  peep, 
Or  stors  retire  from  the  first  blush  of  day. 
With  thy  far-echoing  voice  alarm  thy  poek. 
And  rouse  thy  bold  compeers  :  then  to  the  copse, 
Thick  with  entangling  grass  or  prickly  furze, 
With  silence  lead  thy  many-colored  hounds. 
In  all  their  beauty's  pride.     See  !  how  they  range, 
Dispersed,  how  busily  this  way  and  that 
They  cross,  examining  with  curious  nose 
Each  likely  haunt.     Hark  !  on  the  drag  I  hoar 
Their  doubtful  notes,  preluding  to  a  cry 
More  nobly  full,  and  swelled  with  every  mouth. 
As  straggling  armies  at  the  trumpet's  voice 
Press  to  their  standard,  hither  all  repair, 
And  hurry  through  the  woods  with  hasty  step. 
Rustling  and  full  of  hope  ;  now  driven  on  heaps. 
They  push,  they  strive ;  while  from  his  kennel  sneaks 
The  conscious  villain.     See  !  he  skulks  along 
Sleek  at  the  shepherd's  cost,  and  plump  with  meals 
Purloined  :  so  thrive  the  wicked  here  below. 
Though  high  his  brush  he  bears,  though  tipped  with 
It  gayly  shine,  yc-t  cru  th.-  sun  .h-L-liiu'd  [white 


I  strains  !  how  beat  ( 


Heave 

Big  with  tumultuous  joy  ;  the  loaded  gales 

Breathe  harmony  ;  and  as  the  tempest  drives 

From  wood  to  wood,  through  every  dark  recess. 

The  forest  thunders,  and  the  mountains  shake. 

The  chorus  swells  ;   less  various  and  less  sweet 

The  thrilling  notes,  when  in  those  very  groves 

The  feathered  choristers  salute  the  Spring, 

And  every  bush  in  concert  joins  ;  or  when 

The  master's  hand,  in  modulated  air, 

Bids  the  loud  organ  breathe,  and  all  the  powers 

Of  music  in  one  instrument  combine. 

An  universal  minstrelsy.     And  now 

In  vain  each  earth  he  tries  ;  the  doors  are  barred 

Impregnable  ;  nor  is  the  covert  safe  : 

He  pants  for  purer  air.     Hark  !  what  loud  shouts 

Reecho  through  the  groves?  he  breaks  away  ; 

Shrill  horns  proclaim  his  flight.     Each  straggling 

hound 
Strains  o'er  the  lawn  to  reach  the  distant  pack. 
'T  is  triumph  all  and  joy.     Now,  my  brave  youths  ! 
Now  give  a  loose  to  the  clean,  generous  steed. 
Flourish  the  whip,  nor  spare  the  galling  spur  ; 
But  in  the  madness  of  delight  forget 
Your  fears.     Far  o'er  the  rocky  hills  we  range. 
And  dangerous  our  course  ;   but  in  the  brave 
True  courage  never  fails.     In  vain  the  streams 
In  foaming  eddies  whirl  ;  in  vain  the  ditch. 
Wide-gaping,  threatens  death.     The  craggy  steep, 


354 


RURAL    POETRY.  SOMERVILLE. 


Where  the  poor  dizzy  shepherd  crawls  with  care, 
And  clings  to  every  twig,  gives  us  no  pain, 
But  down  we  sweep,  as  stoops  the  falcon  bold 
To  pounce  his  prey  :  then  up  the  opponent  hill. 
By  the  swift  motion  flung,  wo  mount  aloft. 
So  ships,  in  winter  seas,  now  sliding  sink 
Adown  the  steepy  wave  ;  then,  tossed  on  high, 
Ride  on  the  billows,  and  defy  the  storm. 


What  lengths  we  pasa  !  where  will  the  wandering 
chase 
Lead  us  bewildered  !     Smooth  as  swallows  skim 
The  new-shorn  mead,  and  far  more  swift,  we  fly. 
See  my  brave  pack  !  how  to  the  head  they  press. 
Jostling  in  close  array,  then  more  diffuse 
Obliquely  wheel  ;  while  from  their  opening  mouths 
The  volleyed  thunder  breaks.     So  when  the  cranes 
Their  annual  voyage  steer,  with  wanton  wing 
Their  figure  oft  they  change,  and  their  loud  clang 
From  cloud  to  cloud  rebounds.     How  far  behind 
The  hunter  crew,  wide  straggling  o'er  the  plain  ! 
The  panting  courser  now  with  trembling  nerves 
Begins  to  reel  ;  urged  by  the  goring  spur. 
Makes  many  a  faint  effort ;  he  snorts,  he  foams  ; 
The  big  round  drops  run  trickling  down  his  sides. 
With  sweat  and  blood  distained.     Look  back  and 
The  strange  confusion  of  the  vale  below,  [view 

^Vhe're  sore  vexation  reigns  ;   see  yon  poor  jade  ; 
In  vain  the  impatient  rider  frets  and  swears. 
And  galling  spurs  harrow  his  mangled  sides  ; 
He  can  no  more  ;  his  stiff,  unpliant  limbs 
Rooted  in  earth,  unmoved  and  fixed  he  stands  ; 
For  every  cruel  curse  returns  a  groan, 
And  sobs,  and  faints,  and  dies  !    Who  without  grief 
Can  view  that  pampered  steed,  his  master's  joy. 
His  minion,  and  his  daily  care,  well  clothed. 
Well  fed  with  every  nicer  care  ;  no  cost. 
No  labor  spared  ;  who,  when  the  flying  chase 
Broke  from  the  copse,  without  a  rival  led 
The  numerous  train  ;   now  a  sad  spectacle 
Of  pride  brought  low,  and  humbled  insolence, 
Drove  lilce  a  panniered  ass,  and  scourged  along  ! 
While  these,  with  loosened  reins  and  dangling  heels, 
Hang  on  their  reeling  palfreys,  that  seaixe  bear 
Their  weights  ;  another  in  the  treacherous  bog 
Lies    floundering,    half    ingulfed.       What    biting 

thoughts 
Torment  the  abandoned  crew  !     Old  age  laments 
His  vigor  spent ;  the  tall,  plump,  brawny  youth 
Curses  his  cumbrous  bulk,  and  envies  now 
The  short,  pygmean  race  he  whilome  kenned  | 

With  proud,  insulting  leer.  A  chosen  few 
Alone  the  sport  enjoy,  nor  droop  beneath 
Their  pleasing  toils. 


DEVOORED. — THE  FAHMER'S  CONOHATDLATORV  TREAT. 

Here,  huntsman  !  from  this  height 
Observe  yon  birds  of  prey  :  if  I  can  judge, 
'T  is  there  the  villain  lurks  ;  they  hover  round. 


And  claim  him  as  their  own.     Was  I  not  right  ? 
See  !  there  he  creeps  along  ;  his  brush  he  drags. 
And  sweeps  the  mire  impure  ;  from  his  wide  jaws 
His  tongue  unmoiatenQd  hangs  ;  symptoms  too  sure 
Of  sudden  death.     Ha  '  ytt  he  flies,  nor  yields 
To  black  d.  .|  ilr.     Tmi  . m   l,„,so  more,  and  all 
His  wik'.-^  ;ii.      .1      II     :    '  i  h  rough  yon  village  now 
Theratlliii-      ,..i  The  barns,  the  cots, 

And  leallcs-  ,li,,^,  ,,  r,,,  ,  ,:,,  j,,y„us  sounds. 
Through  every  hoim,.|:iJL  :iii<l  ilir.niL'h  every  yard. 
His  midnight  walks,  |.:iiii  mr,  |mi|„m,,  Ik- flics  ; 
Through  every  hole  lir  -nrak^  fhi.,i,;4h  every  jakes 
Plunging,  he  wades  besiiicarod,  and  fondly  hopes 
In  a  superior  stench  to  lose  his  own  ; 
But,  faithful  to  the  track,  the  unerring  hounds 
With  peals  of  echoing  vengeance  close  purBue. 

And  now  distressed,  no  sheltering  covert  near, 
[To]  the  henroost  [he]  creeps,  whose  walls,  with  gore 
Distained,  attest  his  guilt.     There,  villain  !  there 
Expect  thy  fate  deserved.     And  soon  from  thence 
The  pack,  inquisitive,  with  clamor  loud, 
Drag  out  their  trembling  prize,  and  on  his  blood 
With  greedy  transport  feast.     In  bolder  notes 
Each  sounding  horn  proclaims  the  felon  dead, 
And  all  the  assembled  \iIhigo  shouts  for  joy. 

The  farmer,  who  beholds  his  mortal  foe 
Stretched  at  his  feet,  applauds  the  glorious  deed, 
And,  grateful,  calls  us  to  a  short  repast  ; 
In  the  full  glass  the  liquid  amber  smiles. 
Our  native  product  ;  and  his  good  old  mate 
With  choicest  viands  heaps  the  liberal  board. 
To  crown  our  triumphs,  and  reward  our  toils.  *  *  * 

THE  OTTER-HUNT.  —  HABITS   OF  THE   OTTER. 

One  labor  yet  remains,  celestial  maid  ! 
Another  element  demands  thy  song. 
No  more  o'er  craggy  steeps,  through  coverts  thick 
With  pointed  thorn  and  briers  intricate, 
Urge  on  with  horn  and  voice  the  painful  pack. 
But  skim  with  wanton  wing  the  irriguous  vale. 
Where  winding  streams  amid  the  flowery  meads 
Perpetual  glide  along,  and  undermine 
The  caverned  banks,  by  the  tenacious  roots 
Of  hoary  willows  arched,  gloomy  retreat 
Of  the  bright  scaly  kind,  where  they  at  will 
On  the  green  watery  reed,  their  pasture,  graze  ; 
Suck  the  moist  soil,  or  .■'lumber  at  their  ease. 
Rocked  by  {]„■  r.  -tlr  .  I,in,,k  that  draws  aslope 
Its  humid  ti.Mii,  :,h.|  hiir.  I  Inii- dark  abodes. 

Where  ni-r.  :i,,i  ,,|,,,|, '  whore,  alas  ! 

Is  innoceni-i'  ^.  >■ '      i;:,|,i,„'  and  spoil 

Haunt  e'en  the  lowest  deeps;  seas  have  their  sharks, 
Rivers  and  ponds  enclose  the  ravenous  pike  ; 
He  in  his  turn  becomes  a  prey,  on  him 
The  amphibious  otter  feasts.     Just  is  his  fate 
Deserved  :  but  tyrants  know  no  bounds;  nor  spears, 
That  bristle  on  his  back,  defend  the  perch 
From  his  wide,  greedy  jaws  ;  nor  burnished  mail 
The  yellow  carp  ;  nor  all  his  arts  can  save 
The  insinuating  eel,  that  hides  bis  head 
Beneath  the  slimy  mud  ;  nor  yet  escapes 


AUTUMN  —  OCTOBER. 


355 


Tho  crimson-spotted  trout,  the  river's  prido, 
I ,    And  beauty  of  the  stream.     Without  remorse 
[j    This  miilnight  pillager,  raging  around, 
Insatiate,  swallows  all.     The  owner  mourns 
Tho  unpeopled  rivulet,  and  gladly  hears 
Tho  huntsman's  early  call,  and  sees  with  joy 
Tho  iovial  crew,  that  march  upon  its  banks 
In  gay  parade,  with  bearded  lanoos  anued. 

This  subtle  spoiler,  of  tho  beaver  kind, 
Far  otr,  perhaps,  wiiere  ancient  alders  shade 
Tho  deep,  still  pool,  within  some  hollow  trunk 
Contrives  his  wicker  couch,  whence  ho  surveys 
His  long  purlieu,  lord  of  the  stream,  and  all 
Tho  finny  shoals  his  own. 


But  you,  brave  youths  ! 
Dispute  tho  felon's  claim  ;  try  every  root, 
And  every  reedy  bank  ;  encourage  all 
The  busy,  spreading  pack,  that  fearless  plunge 
Into  the  flood,  and  cross  tho  rapid  stream. 
Bid  rocks  and  caves,  and  each  resounding  shore, 
Proclaim  your  bold  defiance  !     Loudly  raise 
Each  cheering  voice,  till  distant  hills  repeat 
The  triumphs  of  tho  vale.     On  the  soft  sand 
Sec  there  his  seal  impressed  !  ond  on  that  bank 
Behold  tho  glittering  spoils,  half-caten  fish, 
Scales,  fins,  and  bones,  the  leavings  of  his  feast ; 
Ah  !  on  that  yielding  sag-bed,  see,  once  more, 
Jlis  seal  I  view.     O'er  yon  dank,  rushy  marsh 
The  sly,  goose-footed  prowler  bends  his  course. 
And  seeks  the  distant  shallows.     Huntsman,  bring 
Thy  eager  pack,  and  trail  him  to  his  couch. 
Hark  !  the  loud  peal  begins,  the  clamorous  joy. 
The  gallant  chiding,  loads  tho  trembling  air. 

Ye  naiads  fair,  who  o'er  these  floods  preside. 
Raise  up  your  dripping  heads  above  the  wave. 
And  hear  our  melody.     The  harmonious  notes 
Float  with  the  stream  ;  and  every  winding  creek 
And  hollow  rock,  that  o'er  the  dimpling  flood 
Nods  pendent,  still  improves  from  shore  to  shore 
Our  sweet,  reiterated  joys.     What  shouts  ! 
What  clamor  loud,  what  gay,  heart-cheering  sound. 
Urge  through  the  breathing  brass  their  mazy  way  ! 
Not  choirs  of  Tritons  glad  with  sprightlier  strains, 
Tho  dancing  billows,  when  proud  Neptune  rides 
In  triumph  o'er  the  deep.     IIow  greedily 
They  snuff  the  fishy  steam  that  to  each  blode 
Bank-scenting  clings  !     See  how  the  morning  dews 
They  sweep,  that  from  their  feet  besprinkling  drop 
Dispersed,  and  leave  a  track  oblique  behind. 
Now  on  firm  land  they  range  ;  then  in  the  flood 
They  plunge  tumultuous,  or  through  reedy  pools 
Bustling  they  work  their  way  ;  no  hole  escapes 
Their  curious  search,     ^\'ith  quick  sensation  now 
The  fuming  vapor  stings  ;  flutter  their  hearts. 
And  joy  redoubled  bursts  from  every  mouth 
In  louder  symphonies.     Yon  hollow  trunk. 
That  with  its  hoary  head  incurved  salutes 
The  passing  wave,  mast  bo  tho  tyrant's  fort. 
And  dread  abode. 


TUB  OTTIII,  PUT  DOWS, 


TO  THE  WAT>R  ;    ATTJtCKBD 


How  these  impatient  climb, 
While  Others  at  tho  root  incessant  bay  ! 
They  put  him  down.     See  there  ho  dives  along  ! 
The  nswiiding  bubbles  mark  his  gloomy  way. 
ijink  fi\  the  nets,  and  out  off  his  retreat 
III     il.      Iiillering  deeps.     Ah  !  there  he  vents  ! 
Mm    |.  I   L  |. lunge  headlong,  and  protended  spears 

-^I'  II k'^truetion,  while  the  troubled  surge 

Iiuligiiajit  foams,  and  all  the  scaly  kind, 
Affrightc<I,  hide  their  heads.     Wild  tumult  reigns. 
And  luud  uproar.     Ah  !  there  once  more  ho  vents  ! 
See  !  that  bold  hound  has  seized  him  ;  down  they 
Together  lust  ;   but  soon  shall  ho  repent  [sink. 

His  rash  assault.     See  !  there  escaped  he  flics 
Half  drowned,  and  clambers  up  the  slippery  bank. 
With  ooze  and  blood  distaincd.     Of  all  the  brutes. 
Whether  by  nature  formed,  or  by  long  use, 
This  artful  diver  best  can  bear  the  want 


I  Of  vital  air.     Unequal  is  the  fight 
I  Ben 


Beneath  this  whelming  element.     Yet  there 
Ho  lives  not  long,  but  respiration  needs 
At  proper  intervals.     Again  he  vents  ; 
Again  the  crowd  attack.     That  spear  has  pierced 
His  neck,  the  crimson  waves  confess  the  wound. 
Fixed  is  the  bearded  lance,  unwelcome  guest. 
Where'er  he  flies  ;  with  him  it  sinks  beneath. 
With  him  it  mounts  ;  sure  guide  to  every  foe. 
Inly  he  groans,  nor  can  his  tender  wound 
Bear  the  cold  stream.     Lo  !  to  yon  sedgy  bank 
Ho  creeps  disconsolate  :  his  numerous  foes 
Surround  him,  hounds  and  men.     Pierced  through 


y  lift  him  high  in  air  ; 
iiiid  grins,  and  bites  in  vain. 
II  gayly-warbling  strains, 
late.     He  dies  !  he  dies  !  *  * 

i    OF     niM    WHO    LIVES  OCT-DOonS  } 


0,  happy,  if  ye  knew  your  happy  state. 
Ye  rangers  of  the  fields !  whom  Nature  boon 
Cheers  with  her  smiles,  and  every  element 
Conspires  to  bless.     *     • 

Ye  guardian  powers,  who  make  mankind  your  care. 
Give  me  to  know  wise  Nature's  hidden  depths. 
Trace  each  mysterious  cause,  with  judgment  read 
The  expanded  volume,  and  submiss  adore 
That  groat  creative  Will,  who  ot  a  word 
Spoke  forth  the  wondrous  scene.     *    * 

[Or]  this,  at  least. 
Grant  me  propitiotis  —  an  inglorious  life, 
Calm  and  serene,  nor  lost  in  false  pursuits 
Of  wealth  or  honors  ;  but  enough  to  raise 
My  drooping  friends,  preventing  modest  want 
That  dorcs  not  ask  ;  and  if,  to  crown  my  joys. 
Ye  grant  me  health,  that,  ruddy  in  my  cheeks, 
Blooms    in    my  life's   decline  ;   fields,  woods,  and 
Each  towering  hill, each  humble  vale  below,  [streams. 
Shall  hear  my  cheering  voice  :  my  hounds  shall  wako 
The  lazy  morn,  and  glad  the  horizon  round. 


liisiic 


m 


[ah   for   a)cio[)fr. 


WIIITTIER'S    "  HPSKERS." 
It  was  late  in  mild  October, 

And  the  long  autumnal  rain 
Had  left  the  summer  harvest-ficlda 

All  green  with  grass  again  ; 
The  first  sharp  frosts  had  fallen, 

Leaving  all  the  woodlands  gay 
With  the  hues  of  Summer's  rainbow, 

Or  the  meadow-flowers  of  May. 
Through  a  thin,  dry  mist,  that  morning, 

The  sun  rose  broad  and  red  ; 
At  first  a  rayless  disk  of  fire, 

It  brightened  as  it  sped. 
Yet  even  its  noontide  glory 

Fell  chastened  and  subdued 
On  the  corn-fields,  and  the  orchards, 

And  softly-pictured  wood. 

And  all  that  quiet  afternoon, 

Slow  sloping  to  the  night, 

It  wove  with  golden  shuttle 

The  haze  with  yellow  light ; 
Slanting  through  the  painted  beeches, 

It  glorified  the  hill, 
And  beneath  it  pond  and  meadow 

Lay  brighter,  greener,  still. 
And  shouting  boys  in  woodland  haunts 

Caught  glimpses  of  that  sky. 
Flecked  by  the  many-tinted  leaves. 
And  laughed  they  knew  not  why  ; 
And  school-girls,  gay  with  aster-flowers. 

Beside  the  meadow-brooks. 
Mingled  the  glow  of  Autumn  with 

The  sunshine  of  sweet  looks. 
From  spire  and  barn  looked  westerly 

The  patient  weathercocks. 
But  even  the  birches  on  the  hills 

Stood  motionless  as  rocks  ; 
No  sound  was  in  the  woodlands, 

Save  the  squirrel's  dropping  shell. 
And  the  yellow  leaves  among  the  boughs. 

Low  rustling  as  they  fell. 
The  summer  grains  were  harvested  ; 

The  stubble-fields  lay  dry. 
Where  June-winds  rolled  in  light  and  shade 

The  pale  green  waves  of  rye  ; 

But,  still,  on  gentle  hill-slopes. 

In  valleys  fringed  with  wood, 

Ungathered,  bleaching  in  the  sun. 

The  heavy  corn-crop  stood. 


Bent  low  by  Autumn's  wind  and  rain. 

Through  husks  that  dry  and  sere 
Unfolded  from  their  ripened  charge, 

Shone  out  the  golden  ear  ; 
Beneath,  the  turnip  lay  concealed 

In  many  a  verdant  fold, 
And  glistened  in  the  slanting  light 

The  pumpkin's  sphere  of  gold. 

There  wrought  the  busy  harvesters, 

And  many  a  creaking  wain 
Bore  slowly  to  the  long  barn-floor 

Its  load  of  husks  and  grain  ; 
Till,  rayless  as  he  rose  that  mom, 

Sank  down  at  last  that  sun, 
Ending  the  day  of  dreamy  light 

And  warmth  as  it  begun. 

And,  lo  <  as  through  the  western  pines, 

On  meadow,  stream,  and  pond, 
Flamed  the  red  radiance  of  the  sky, 

Set  all  afire  beyond. 
Slow  o'er  the  eastern  sea-blufis 

A  milder  glory  shone, 
And  the  sunset  and  the  moon-rise 

Were  mingled  into  one. 

And  thus  into  the  quiet  night 

The  sunset  lapsed  away, 
And  deeper  in  the  brightening  moon 

The  tranquil  shadows  lay  ; 
From  many  a  brown  old  farm-house. 

And  hamlet  without  name. 
Their  milking  and  their  home-tasks  done. 

The  merry  buskers  came. 

Swung  o'er  the  heaped-up  harvest. 

From  pitchforks  in  the  mow, 
Shone  dimly  down  the  lanterns 

On  the  pleasant  scene  below  ; 
The  growing  pile  of  husks  behind. 

The  golden  ears  before. 
And  laughing  eyes  and  busy  hands. 

And  brown  cheeks  glimmering  o'er. 

Half  hidden  in  a  quiet  nook. 

Serene  of  look  and  heart, 
Talking  their  old  times  over, 

The  old  men  sat  apart  ; 
While,  up  and  <lown  the  unhusked  pile, 

Or  nestling  in  its  shade. 
At  hide-and-seek,  with  laugh  and  shout, 

The  happy  children  played. 


AUTUMN  —  OCTOBER. 


357 


Urged  by  tho  good  host's  daughter, 

A  maiden  young  and  fair, 
Lifting  to  light  her  sweet  blue  eyes, 

And  pride  of  soft  brown  hair. 
The  mnstcr  of  the  village-school, 

Slci'k  of  hair  and  smooth  of  tongue, 
To  the  quaint  tune  of  some  old  psalm 

A  husking-ballad  sung. 

Heap  high  the  farmer's  wintry  board  ! 

Heap  high  the  Golden  Corn  ! 
No  richer  gift  has  Autumn  poured 

From  out  her  lavish  horn. 
Let  other  lands,  exulting,  glean 

The  apple  from  the  pine. 
The  orange  from  its  glossy  green. 

The  cluster  from  the  vine  :  — 
We  better  love  the  hardy  gift 

Our  rugged  vales  bestow, 
To  cheer  us  when  tho  storm  shall  drift 

Our  harvest-fields  with  snow. 
When  spring-time  came  with  flower  and  bud, 

And  grasses  green  and  young. 
And  merry  bob'links,  in  tho  wood. 

Like  mad  musicians  sung  : 
We  dropped  the  seed  o'er  hill  and  plain. 

Beneath  the  sun  of  May, 
And  frightened  from  our  sprouting  grain 

The  robber-crows  away. 
All  through  the  long,  bright  days  of  June 

Its  leaves  grew  thin  and  fair. 
And  waved  in  hot  mid-summer's  noon 

Its  soft  and  yellow  hair. 
And  now,  with  Autumn's  moonlit  eves. 

Its  harvest-time  has  come, 
We  pluck  away  the  frosted  leaves, 

And  bear  the  treasure  home. 
There,  richer  than  tho  fabled  gift 

Of  golden  showers  of  old. 
Fair  hands  the  broken  grain  shall  sift. 

And  knead  its  meal  of  gold. 
Let  vapid  idlers  loll  in  silk 

Around  their  costly  board,  — 
Givo  us  the  bowl  of  samp  and  milk 

By  homespun  beauty  poured. 
AVherc'er  the  wide  old  kitchen  hearth 

Sends  up  its  smoky  curls. 
Who  will  not  thank  the  kindly  earth. 

And  bless  our  corn-fed  girls  !  »  * 
Let  earth  withhold  her  goodly  root. 

Let  raildiw  blight  the  rye, 
Give  to  the  worm  the  orchard's  fruit. 

The  wheat-field  to  the  fly  : 
But,  let  the  good  old  crop  adorn 

The  hills  our  fathers  trod  ; 
Still  let  us  for  His  Golden  Corn 

Send  up  our  thanks  to  God  ! 


HOOD'S  "SEASON." 


Sum 


Fogs  are  falling  down  ; 
And  with  ru.«8el  tinges 

Autumn  's  doing  brown. 
Boughs  are  daily  rifled 

By  the  gusty  thieves, 
And  the  Book  of  Nature 

Uetteth  short  of  leaves. 
Kound  the  tops  of  houses, 

Swallows,  as  they  flit, 
Give,  like  yearly  tenants, 

Kotiecs  to  quit. 
Skies,  of  fickle  temper. 

Weep  by  turns  and  laugh  - 
Night  and  Day  together, 

Taking  half-and-half. 
So  September  ondeth  — 

Cold,  and  most  perverse  — 
But  the  month  that  follows 

Sure  will  pinch  us  worse. 


A    BALLAD    OF     FLODDEN     FIELD. 
I  'te  heard  the  lilting  at  our  yowe-milking. 

Lasses  a-lilting  before  the  dawn  of  day  j 
But  now  they  arc  moaning  on  ilka  green  loaning  — 

The  Flowers  of  the  Forest  are  a'  wedo  away. 

At  buchts,!  in  tho  morning,  nae  blytho  lads  are 


The  lasses  are  lonely,  and  dowie,  and  wae  ; 
Nae  daflin',  nae  gabbin',  but  sighing  and  sabbing. 

Ilk  ane  lifts  her  leglen  and  hies  her  away. 
In  hairst,  at  the  shearing,  nae   youths   now  are 
jeering, 

Tho  bandsters  are  lyart,  and  runklcd,  and  gray  ; 
At  fair,  or  at  preaching,  nae  wooing,  nae  fleeching — 

The  Flowers  of  the  Forest  are  a'  wede  away. 
At  e'en,  at  the  gloaming,  nao  swankies  are  roaming 

'Bout  stacks  wi'  the  lasses  at  bogles  to  play  ; 
But  ilk  ane  sits  drearie,  lamenting  her  dearie  — 

The  Flowers  of  tho  Forest  are  a'  wede  away. 
Dule  and  wae  for  the  order,  sent  our  lads  to  tho 
Border  ! 

The  English,  for  ance,  by  guile  wan  the  day  ; 
Tlic  Flowers  of  the  Forest,  that  foucbt   aye   the 
foremost, 

Tho  prime  o'  our  land,  arc  cauld  in  the  clay. 

We  hear  nae  mair  lilting  at  our  yowe-milking. 
Women  and  bairns  are  heartless  and  wae  ; 

Sighing  and  moaning  on  ilka  green  loaning  — 
The  Flowers  of  tho  Forest  are  a'  wede  away. 
1  For  this  and  other  Scotch  arords,  see  pp.  18S,  336. 


|!sa(ms  aulr  Ijiimus  for  (Dctohr. 


QUAKLES'S  PSALM  42  :  1. 

LONGING     AFTER     GOD. 

How  sliall  my  tongue  expvoss  that  hallowed  fire, 

Wliich   lieaven   hath   kindled   in  my  ravished 
heart  ! 
What  muse  shall  I  invoke,  that  will  inspire 

My  lowly  quill  to  act  a  lofty  part ! 
What  art  shall  I  devise  to  express  desire, 

Too  intricate  to  be  expressed  by  art ! 
Let  all  the  Nine  be  silent ;  I  refuse 
Their  aid  in  this  high  task,  for  they  abuse 
The  flames  of  love  too  much :  assist  me,  David's  muse. 
Not  as  the  thirsty  soil  desires  soft  showers 

To  quicken  and  refresh  her  cmbryon  grain  ; 
Nor  as  the  drooping  crests  of  fading  flowers 

Request  the  bounty  of  a  morning  rain. 
Do  I  desire  my  God  :  these  in  few  hours 

Rewish  what  late  their  wishes  did  obtain  ; 
But  as  the  swift-foot  hart  doth  wounded  fly 
To  the  much-desired  streams,  even  so  do  I 
Pant  after  Thee,  my  God,  whom  I  must  find,  or  die! 
Before  a  pack  of  deep-mouthed  lusts  I  flee  ; 

0,  they  have  singled  out  my  panting  heart. 
And  wanton  Cupid,  sitting  in  the  tree, 

Hath  pierced  my  bosom  with  a  flaming  dart  ; 
My  soul  being  spent,  for  refuge  seeks  to  Thee, 

But  cannot  find  where  Thou,  my  refuge,  art : 
Like  as  the  swift-foot  hart  doth  wounded  fly 
To  the  desired  streams,  e'en  so  do  I 
Pant  after  Thee,  my  God,  whom  I  must  find,  or  die! 


JONES'S    "AUTUMNAL   HYMN." 

Now  we  rest  from  our  toils.  Lord,  our  labors 


■e  bared  to  the  kiss  of  the  sun  ; 
uwed  the  wheat,  —  well  our  toil  it 


And  1 


have  eaten  the  husks  of  the  i 


We  gathered  our  harvests  ;  with  strength  in  each 
limb  [to  him  ; 

Toiled  the  mower  ;  the  ripe  grass  bowed  prostrate 
And  the  reaper,  as  nimbly  ho  felled  the  proud  grain. 
Was  blither  than  those  who  wear  sceptres  and  reign. 


And  the  wheat-blade  ' 


tall. 


nd  the  full,  golden 


Proclaimed  that  the  months  of  rejoicing  i 


The  grape  in  rich  clusters  hung,  promising  mirth. 
And  the  boughs  of  the  apple-tree  slept  on  the  earth. 

Did  we  thank  thee,  then,  God  of  the  seasons  1   0,  no! 
We  were  prompt  in  accepting  thy  favors,  but  slow 
Were  our  lips  to  give  thanks  for  the  rich  gifts,  thy 
hand  [land. 

Showered  thick  on  the  maize-littered  vales  of  our 

Thou  hast  rained  on  us  manna.  Lord,  —  yet  we  are 
mute  ;  [fruit  ; 

Though  summer 's  all  smiles,  of  thy  love  are  the 
Springs  and  autumns,  as  fair  as  the  Orient  boasts, 
Dawn  on  us,  —  yet  faint  are  our  tongues.  Lord  of 
Hosts  ! 

Now  we  raise  our  glad  voices  —  in  gratitude  raise, 
And  we  waft  on  the  beams  of  the  morning  our 

praise  ; 
We  thank  thee  for  golden  grain  gathered  in  shock, 
And  the  milk  of  the  kine,  and  the  fleece  of  the  flock. 

And  we  thank  thee  for  limbs  moving  light  to  the 

For  hearts  beating  high,  though  unwarmed  of  the 

flask  ; 
Fill  us.  Lord,  with  just  sense  of  thy  bounty,  and 

give 
Health  to  us,  and  to  all  in  the  land  where  we  live. 


YOUNG'S  ' '  IMMORTALIT  Y. ' ' 

Nature,  thy  daughter,  ever-changing  birth 
Of  thee,  the  great  Immutable,  to  man 
Speaks  wisdom  ;   is  his  oracle  supreme  ; 
And  he  who  most  consults  her  is  most  wise. 
Look  nature  through,  't  is  revolution  all. 
All  change,  no  death.    Day  follows  night,  and  night 
The  dying  day  ;  stars  rise,  and  set,  and  rise  ; 
Earth  takes  the  example.     See  the  Summer  gay. 
With  her  green  chaplet,  and  ambrosial  flowers. 
Droops  into  pallid  Autumn  ;  Winter  gray, 
Horrid  with  frost,  and  turbulent  with  storm, 
Blows  Autumn  and  his  golden  fruits  away, 
Then   melts   into    the  Spring  ;    soft  Spring,  with 

breath 
Favonian,  from  warm  chambers  of  the  south, 
Recalls  the  first.     All  to  reflourish  fades. 
As  in  a  wheel  all  sinks  to  reasoend  ; 
Emblems  of  man,  who  passes,  not  expires. 


M©TI.MS1E.IR., 


AUTUMN-NOVEMBEE. 


(L  oliijjrr's 


lUtirnnfir 


Hackseyed  in  business,  wearied  at  that  oar, 
Which  thousands,  once  fast  chained  to,  quit  no  more, 
But  which,  when  life  at  ebb  runs  weak  and  low, 
All  wish,  or  scorn  to  wish,  they  could  forego  ; 
The  statesman,  lawyer,  merchant,  man  of  trade, 
Pants  for  the  refuge  of  some  rural  shade, 
Where,  all  his  long  anxieties  forgot  . 
Amid  the  charms  of  a  sequestered  spot, 
Or  recollected  only  to  gild  o'er. 
And  add  a  smile  to  what  wa^j  sweet  before. 
Ho  may  possess  the  joys  ho  thinks  he  sees, 
Lay  his  old  ago  upon  the  lap  of  ease. 
Improve  the  remnant  of  his  wasted  span, 
And,  having  lived  a  triflor,  die  a  man. 


ALI.S  TO  THE  QOKT  CorSTRT   I.IFK. 

Thus   Consoionoe    pleads   her   cause   within   th 
breast. 
Though  long  rebelled  against,  not  yet  suppressed. 
And  calls  a  creature  formed  for  God  alone. 
For  heaven's  high  purposes,  and  not  his  own  ; 


Calls  him  away  from  selfish  ends  and  aims. 
From  what  debilitates  and  what  inflames. 
From  cities  humming  with  a  restless  crowd. 
Sordid  as  active,  ignorant  as  loud. 
Whose  highest  praise  is  that  they  live  in  vain. 
The  dupes  of  pleasure,  or  the  slaves  of  gain. 
Where  works  of  man  are  clustered  close  around, 
And  works  of  Ood  are  hardly  to  be  found,  — 
To  regions  where,  in  spite  of  sin  and  woe. 
Traces  of  E<len  arc  still  seen  below. 
Where  mountain,  river,  forest,  field,  and  grove, 
Remind  him  of  his  Maker's  power  and  love. 


'Tis  well  if.  looked  for  at  so  late  a  day. 
In  the  last  scene  of  such  a  senseless  play, 
True  wisdom  will  attend  his  feeble  call. 
And  grace  his  action  ere  the  curtain  fall. 
Souls,  that  have  long  despised  their  heavenly  birth, 
Their  wishes  all  impregnated  with  earth. 
For  throo-scoro  years  employed  with  ceaseless  care 
In  oatehing  smoke  and  feeding  upon  air, 
Conversant  only  with  the  ways  of  men. 
Rarely  redeem  the  short  remaining  ten. 


360 


RURAL    POETRY. COWPER. 


Inreterate  habits  choke  th'  unfruitful  heart, 
Their  fibres  penetrate  its  tenderest  part, 
And,  draining  its  nutritious  powers  to  feed 
Their  noxious  growth,  starve  every  better  seed. 


WORKS  A  PEOPBR    THSME 


MEDITATIONS  ( 


Happy,  if  full  of  days  —  but  happier  far, 
If,  ere  we  yet  discern  life's  evening  star. 
Sick  of  the  service  of  a  world,  that  feeds 
Its  patient  drudges  with  dry  chaff  and  weeds. 
We  can  escape  from  custom's  idiot  sway. 
To  serve  the  Sovereign  we  were  born  t'  obey. 
Then  sweet  to  muse  upon  his  skill  displayed 
(Infinite  skill)  in  all  that  He  has  made  ! 


To  trace  in  Nature's  most  minute  design 
The  signature  and  stamp  of  power  divine. 
Contrivance  intricate,  expressed  with  ease, 
Where  unassisted  sight  no  beauty  s^es. 
The  shapely  limb  and  lubricated  joint. 
Within  the  small  dimensions  of  a  point. 
Muscle  and  nerve  miraculously  spun. 
His  mighty  work,  who  speaks,  and  it  is  done, 
Th'  invisible  in  things  scarce  seen  revealed, 
To  whom  an  atom  is  an  ample  field  ; 
To  wonder  at  a  thousand  insect  forms. 
These  hatched,  and  those  resuscitated  worms, 
New  life  ordained  and  brighter  scenes  to  share, 
Once  prone  on  earth,  now  buoyant  upon  air,    [size. 
Whose  shape  would  make  them,  had  they  bulk  and 
More  hideous  foes  than  fancy  can  devise  ; 
With  helmet-heads  and  dragon-scales  adorned. 
The  mighty  myriads,  now  securely  scorned. 
Would  mock  the  majesty  of  man's  high  birth. 
Despise  his  bulwarks,  and  unpeople  earth. 

GRANDEUR  or  THE  CONTEMPLATION  OF  NATURE. 

Then  with  a  glance  of  fancy  to  survey, 
Far  as  the  faculty  can  stretch  away, 
Ten  thousand  rivers  poured  at  his  command 
From  urns,  that  never  fail,  through  every  land  ; 
These  like  a  deluge  with  impetuous  force. 
Those  winding  modestly  a  silent  course  ; 
The  cloud-surmounting  Alps,  the  fruitful  vales  ; 
Seas,  on  which  every  nation  spreads  her  sails  ; 
The  sun,  a  world  whence  other  worlds  drink  light. 
The  crescent  moon,  the  diadem  of  night ; 
Stars  countless,  each  in  his  appointed  place. 
Fast  anchored  in  the  deep  abyss  of  space  — 
At  such  a  sight  to  catch  the  poet's  flame. 
And  with  a  rapture  like  his  own  exclaim. 
These  are  thy  glorious  works,  thou  Source  of  Good, 
How  dimly  seen,  how  faintly  understood  ! 
Thine,  and  upheld  by  thy  paternal  care. 
This  universal  frame,  thus  wondrous  fair  ; 
Thy  power  divine,  and  bounty  beyond  thought, 
Adored  and  praised  in  all  that  Thou  hast  wrought. 
Absorbed  in  that  immensity  I  see, 
I  shrink  abased,  and  yet  aspire  to  Thee  ; 


Instruct  me,  guide  me  to  that  heavenly  day 
Thy  words  more  clearly  than  thy  works  display  : 
That,  while  thy  truths  my  grosser  thoughts  refine, 
I  may  resemble  Tlfee,  and  call  Thee  mine. 

THE  HEAVENLY  WaSDOM  IN   LIVING. 

0  blest  proficiency  !  surpassing  all 
That  men  erroneously  their  glory  call, 
The  recompense  that  arts  or  arms  can  yield. 
The  bar,  the  senate,  or  the  tented  field. 
Compared  with  this  sublimest  life  below. 
Ye  kings  and  rulers,  what  have  courts  to  show  ? 
Thus  studied,  used  and  consecrated  thus, 
On  earth  what  is,  seemed  formed  indeed  for  us  : 
Not  a«  the  plaything  of  a  froward  child. 
Fretful  unless  diverted  and  beguiled. 
Much  less  to  feed  and  fan  the  fatal  fires 
Of  pride,  ambition,  or  impure  desires, 
But  as  a  scale,  by  which  the  soul  ascends 
From  mighty  means  to  more  important  ends, 
Securely,  though  by  steps  but  rarely  trod. 
Mounts  from  inferior  beings  up  to  God, 
And  sees,  by  no  fallacious  light  or  dim. 
Earth  made  for  man,  and  man  himself  for  Him. 


Not  that  I  mean  t'  approve,  or  would  enforce, 
A  superstitious  and  monastic  course  : 
Truth  is  not  local,  God  alike  pervades 
And  fills  the  world  of  trafiio  and  the  shades. 
And  may  be  feared  amidst  the  busiest  scenes. 
Or  scorned  where  business  never  intervenes. 
But 't  is  not  easy,  with  a  mind  like  ours. 
Conscious  of  weakness  in  its  noblest  powers. 
And  in  a  world  where,  other  ills  apart, 
The  roving  eye  misleads  the  careless  heart. 
To  limit  thought,  by  nature  prone  to  stray 
Wherever  freakish  fancy  points  the  way  ; 
To  bid  the  pleadings  of  self-love  be  still. 
Resign  our  own  and  seek  our  Maker's  will  ; 
To  spread  the  page  of  Scripture,  and  compare 
Our  conduct  with  the  laws  engraven  there  ; 
To  measure  all  that  passes  in  the  breast. 
Faithfully,  fairly,  by  that  sacred  test ; 
To  dive  into  the  secret  deeps  within. 
To  spare  no  passion  and  no  favorite  sin, 
And  search  the  themes,  important  above  all, 
Ourselves  and  our  recovery  from  our  fall. 
But  leisure,  silence,  and  a  mind  released 
From   anxious    thoughts  how  wealth   may  be    in- 
How  to  secure,  in  some  propitious  hour,      [creased. 
The  point  of  interest,  or  the  post  of  power, 
A  soul  serene,  and  equally  retired 
From  objects  too  much  dreaded  or  desired, 
Safe  from  the  clamors  of  perverse  dispute,  — 
At  least  are  friendly  to  the  great  pursuit. 

THE    ISLAND    OF   LIFE   ON   THE    OCEAN    OK    ETERNITY.  —  THE 
SAINTED    DEAD. 

Opening  the  map  of  God's  extensive  plan, 
We  find  a  little  isle,  this  life  of  man  ; 


Eternity's  unknown  expanse  uppcara, 
Circling  around  and  limiting  his  years. 
The  busy  race  examine,  and  explore 
Eiich  ercck  and  cavern  of  the  dangerous  shore, 
With  care  collect  what  in  their  eyes  excels, 
Some  shining  pebbles,  and  some  weeds  and  shelbs  ; 
Thus  laden,  dream  that  they  are  rich  and  great. 
And  happiest  he  that  groans  beneath  his  weight. 
The  waves  o'ertako  them  in  their  serious  play, 
And  every  hour  sweeps  multitudes  away  ; 
They  shriek  and  sink,  survivors  start  and  weep, 
Pursue  their  sport,  and  follow  to  the  deep. 
A  few  forsake  the  throng  ;  with  lifted  eyes 
Ask  wealth  of  Ueaven,  and  gain  a  real  prize. 
Truth,  wisdom,  grace,  and  peace  like  that  above, 
Sealed  with  His  signet  whom  they  serve  and  love  ; 
Scorned  by  the  rest,  with  patient  hope  they  wait 
A  kind  release  from  their  imperfect  state, 
And  unregretted  are  soon  snatched  away 
From  scenes  of  sorrow  into  glorious  day. 


Still,  as  I  touch  the  lyre,  do  thou  expand 
'  Thy  genuine  charms,  and  guide  an  artless  hand. 
That  I  way  catch  a  fire  but  rarely  known, 
Give  useful  light,  though  I  should  miss  renown. 
And,  ]H>ring  on  thy  page,  whose  every  lino 
Bears  proof  of  an  intelligence  divine. 
May  feel  a  heart  enriched  by  what  it  pays. 
That  builds  its  glory  on  its  Maker's  praise. 
Woe  to  the  man,  whose  wit  disclaims  its  use, 
Glittering  in  vain  or  only  to  seduce. 
Who  studies  nature  with  a  wanton  eye. 
Admires  the  work,  but  slips  the  lesson  by  ; 
His  hours  of  leisure  and  recess  employs 
In  drawing  pictures  of  forbidden  joys, 
Retires  to  blazon  his  own  worthless  name, 
Or  shoot  the  careless  with  a  surer  aim. 


Nor  these  alone  prefer  a  life  recluse. 
Who  seek  retirement  for  its  proper  use  ; 
The  love  of  change,  that  lives  in  every  breast, 
(.fcnius,  and  temper,  and  desire  of  rest, 
Discordant  motives  in  one  centre  meet. 
And  each  inclines  its  votary  to  retreat. 
Some  minds  by  nature  arc  averse  to  noise, 
And  hate  the  tumult  half  the  world  enjoys. 
The  lure  of  avarice,  or  the  pompous  prize. 
That  courts  display  before  ambitious  eyes  ; 
The  fruits  that  hang  on  pleasure's  6owery  stem, 
Whate'er  enchants  them,  are  no  snares  to  them. 
To  them  the  deep  recess  of  dusky  groves, 
Or  forest,  where  the  deer  securely  roves. 
The  fall  of  waters,  and  the  song  of  birds. 
And  hills  that  echo  to  the  distant  herds. 
Are  luxuries  excelling  all  the  glare 
The  world  can  boast,  and  her  chief  favorites  share. 

THE  POET  SEEKS  RBTIBEMEST  }    NATCRK'S  PICTURES  FOR  mM, 

With  eager  step,  and  carelessly  arrayed. 
For  such  a  cause  the  poet  seeks  the  shade. 
From  all  he  sees  ho  catches  new  delight. 
Pleased  fancy  claps  her  pinions  at  the  sight ; 
The  rising  or  the  setting  orb  of  day. 
The  clouds  that  flit,  or  slowly  float  away, 
Nature  in  all  the  various  shapes  she  wears. 
Frowning  in  storms,  or  breathing  gentle  airs  ; 
The  snowy  robe  her  wintry  state  assumes. 
Her  summer  heats,  her  fruits,  and  her  perfumes  ; 
All,  all  alike  transport  the  glowing  bard. 
Success  in  rhyme  his  glory  and  reward. 

NiTlRE  INVOKED  TO  INSPIRE  TUB  POET. 


0  Nature  !  whoso  elysian  scenes  disclose 
His  bright  perfections  at  whoso  word  they 
Next  to  that  Power  who  formed  thee  and 
Be  thou  the  great  inspirer  of  my  strains. 


The  lover  too  shuns  1 
Tender  idolater  of  obsent  charms. 
Saints  offer  nothing  in  their  warmest  prayers, 
That  he  devotes  not  with  a  zeal  like  theirs  ; 
'T  is  consecration  of  his  heart,  soul,  time. 
And  every  thought  that  wanders  is  a  crime. 
In  sighs  ho  worships  his  supremely  fair. 
And  weeps  a  sad  libation  in  despair  ; 
Adores  a  creature,  and,  devout  in  vain. 
Wins  in  return  an  answer  of  disdain. 


As  woodbine  weds  the  plant  within  her  reach. 
Rough  elm,  or  smooth-grained  ash,  or  glossy  beech. 
In  spiral  rings  ascends  the  trunk,  and  lays 
Her  golden  tassels  on  the  leafy  sprays. 
But  does  a  mischief  while  she  lends  a  grace. 
Straitening  its  growth  by  suca  a  strict  embrace. 
So  love,  that  clings  around  the  noblest  minds. 
Forbids  the  advancement  of  the  soul  he  binds  ; 
The  suitor's  air  indeed  ho  soon  improves. 
And  forms  it  to  the  taste  of  her  he  loves. 
Teaches  his  eye  a  language,  and  no  less 
Refines  his  speech,  and  fashions  his  address  ; 
But  farewell  promises  of  happier  fruits. 
Manly  designs,  and  learning's  grave  pursuits  ; 
Qirt  with  a  chain  he  cannot  wish  to  break. 
His  only  bliss  is  sorrow  for  her  sake  ; 
Who  will  may  pant  for  glory  and  excel, — 
Her  smile  his  aim,  all  higher  aims  farewell  ! 
Thyrsis,  Alexis,  or  whatever  name 
May  least  offend  against  so  pure  a  flame, 
Though  sage  advice  of  friends  the  must  sincere 
Sounds  harshly  in  so  delicate  an  ear. 
And  lovers,  of  all  creatures,  tame  or  wild, 
Can  least  brook  management,  however  mihl  ; 
Yet  let  a  poet  (poetry  disarms 
The  fiercest  animals  with  magic  charms) 
Risk  an  intrusion  on  thy  pensive  mood. 
And  woo  and  win  thee  to  thy  proper  good. 


46 


RURAL    POETRY. 


Pastoral  images  and  still  retreats, 
Umbrageous  walks  and  solitary  seats, 
Sweet  birds  in  concert  with  harmonious  streams. 
Soft  airs,  nocturnal  vigils,  and  day-dreams, 
Are  all  enchantments  in  a  case  like  thine, 
Conspire  against  thy  peace  with  one  design, 
Soothe  thee  to  make  thee  but  a  surer  prey. 
And  feed  the  fire  that  wastes  thy  powers  away. 
Up  —  God  has  formed  thee  with  a  wiser  view, 
Not  to  be  led  in  chains,  but  to  subdue  ; 
Calls  thee  to  cope  with  enemies,  and  first 
Points  out  a  conflict  with  thyself,  the  worst. 

WOMAN,   HER  TRUE   POSITION  J   TO  BE  BELOVED,    NOT  ADO 

Woman,  indeed,  a  gift  He  would  bestow 
AVhen  He  designed  a  paradise  below, 
The  richest  earthly  boon  his  hands  afford, 
Deserves  to  be  beloved,  but  not  adored. 
Post  away  swiftly  to  more  active  scenes, 
Collect  the  scattered  truths  that  study  gleans. 
Mis  with  the  world,  but  with  its  wiser  part, 
No  longer  give  an  image  all  thine  heart ; 
Its  empire  is  not  hers,  nor  is  it  thine, — 
'T  is  God's  just  claim,  prerogative  divine. 


Virtuous  and  faithful  Heberden  !  whose  skill 
Attempts  no  task  it  cannot  well  fulfil, 
Gives  melancholy  up  to  Nature's  care, 
And  sends  the  patient  into  purer  air. 
Look  where  he  comes  —  in  this  embowered  alcove 
Stand  close  concealed,  and  see  a  statue  move  : 
Lips  busy,  and  eyes  fixed,  foot  falling  slow. 
Arms  hanging  idly  down,  hands  clasped  below, 
Interpret  to  the  marking  eye  distress. 
Such  as  its  symptoms  can  alone  express. 
That  tongue  is  silent  now  ;   that  silent  tongue 
Could  argue  once,  could  jest  or  join  the  song. 
Could  give  advice,  could  censure  or  commend, 
Or  charm  the  sorrows  of  a  drooping  friend. 
Renounced  alike  its  office  and  its  sport, 
Its  brisker  and  its  graver  strains  fall  short ; 
Both  fail  beneath  a  fever's  secret  sway, 
And  like  a  summer-brook  are  past  away. 
This  is  a  sight  for  pity  to  peruse. 
Till  she  resemble  faintly  what  she  views, 
Till  sympathy  contract  a  kindred  pain. 
Pierced  with  the  woes  that  she  laments  in  vain. 
This,  of  all  maladies  that  man  infest. 
Claims  most  compassion,  and  receives  the  least  : 
Job  felt  it,  when  he  groaned  beneath  the  rod 
And  the  barbed  arrows  of  a  frowning  God  ; 
And  such  emollients  as  his  friends  could  spare 
Friends  such  as  his  for  modern  Jobs  prepare. 


Blessed,   rather  cursed,  with  hearts  that  ne 
feel, 
Kept  snug  in  caskets  of  close-hammered  steel. 


With  mouths  made  only  to  grin  wide  and  eat, 

And  minds  that  deem  derided  pain  a  treat. 

With  limbs  of  British  oak,  and  nerves  of  wire. 

And  wit  that  puppet-prcfmpters  might  inspire. 

Their  sovereign  nostrum  is  a  clumsy  joke 

On  pangs  enforced  with  God's  severest  stroke. 

But,  with  a  soul  that  ever  felt  the  sting 

Of  sorrow,  sorrow  is  a  sacred  thing  : 

Not  to  molest,  or  irritate,  or  raise 

A  laugh  at  his  expense,  is  slender  praise  ; 

He  that  has  not  usurped  the  name  of  man 

Does  all,  and  deems  too  little  all,  he  can, 

T'  assuage  the  throbbings  of  the  festered  part. 

And  staunch  the  bleedings  of  a  broken  heart. 

'T  is  not,  as  heads  that  never  ache  suppose, 

Forgery  of  fancy,  and  a  dream  of  woes  ; 

Man  is  a  harp,  whose  chords  elude  the  sight. 

Each  yielding  harmony  disposed  aright  ; 

The  screws  reversed  (a  task  which,  if  He  please, 

God  in  a  moment  executes  with  ease). 

Ten  thousand  thousand  strings  at  once  go  loose, 

Lost,  till  He  tunes  them,  all  their  power  and  use. 


Then  neither  heathy  wilds,  nor  scenes  as  fair 
As  ever  recompensed  the  peasant's  care. 
Nor  soft  declivities  with  tufted  hills. 
Nor  view  of  waters  turning  busy  mills. 
Parks  in  which  Art  preceptress  Nature  weds, 
Nor  gardens  interspersed  with  flowery  beds, 
Nor  gales,  that  catch  the  scent  of  blooming  groves 
And  waft  it  to  the  mourner  as  he  roves, 
Can  call  up  life  into  his  faded  oye. 
That  passes  all  he  sees  unheeded  by  ; 
No  wounds  like  those  a  wounded  spirit  feels. 
No  cure  for  such,  till  God,  who  makes  them,  heals 
And  thou,  sad  sufierer  under  nameless  ill. 
That  yields  not  to  the  touch  of  human  skill, 
Improve  the  kind  occasion,  understand 
A  Father's  frown,  and  kiss  his  chastening  hand. 

PEACE    MADE   WITH    GOD    CHANGES    THE    WHOLE    ASPECT    C 


To  thee  the  dayspring  and  the  blaze  of  noon. 
The  purple  evening  and  resplendent  moon. 
The  stars,  that,  sprinkled  o'er  the  vault  of  night, 
Seem  drops  descending  in  a  shower  of  light, 
Shine  not,  or  undesired  and  hated  shine. 
Seen  through  the  medium  of  a  cloud  like  thine  : 
Yet  seek  Him,  —  in  his  favor  life  is  found. 
All  bliss  beside,  a  shadow  or  a  sound  : 
Then  heaven,  eclipsed  so  long,  and  this  dull  earth. 
Shall  seem  to  start  into  a  second  birth  ; 
Nature,  assuming  a  more  lovely  face, 
Borrowing  a  beauty  from  the  works  of  Grace, 
Shall  be  despised  and  overlooked  no  more. 
Shall  fill  thee  with  delight  unfelt  before. 
Impart  to  things  inanimate  a  voice, 
And  bid  her  mountains  and  her  hills  rejoice  ; 
The  sound  shall  run  along  the  winding  vales, 
And  thou  enjoy  an  Eden  ere  it  fails. 


AUTUMN  —  NOVEMBER. 


863 


TUK  DI3APP0ISTBD  STATKSMAN  8KKKS  RKTIRBMBNT. 

Te  groves  (the  statesman  at  his  desk  exclaims, 
Sick  of  a  thousond  disappointed  aims), 
My  patrimonial  treasure  and  my  pride, 
Beneath  your  shades  your  gray  possessor  hide. 
Receive  me  languishing  for  that  repose 
The  servant  of  the  public  never  knows. 
Ye  saw  mo  once  (ah,  those  regretted  days, 
When  boyish  innooonco  was  all  my  praiso  !) 
Hour  after  hour  delightfully  allot 
To  studies  then  familiar,  since  forgot. 
And  cultivate  a  taste  for  ancient  song. 
Catching  its  ardor  as  I  mused  along  ; 
Nor  seldom,  as  propitious  Heaven  might  send. 
What  once  I  valued  and  could  boast,  a  friend. 
Were  witnesses  how  cordially  I  pressed 
His  undissembling  virtue  to  my  breast ; 
Receive  me  now,  not  incorrupt  as  then, 
Nor  Tiiilili'SM  ut'  ciirrupting  other  men, 
But  v.v-rl  111  ml-,  tliii.  while  they  seem  to  stay 
A  fulliii^  <  -III"",  li'-'""  its  decay. 
Tothi-  iiir  liini  II  .1   my  [lative  home. 
The  wreek  of  whiit  1  was,  fatigued  I  come  ; 
For  once  I  can  approve  the  patriot's  voice, 
And  make  the  course  he  recommends  my  choice  : 
We  meet  at  last  in  one  sincere  desire, 
Uis  wish  and  mine  both  prompt  me  to  retire. 
'T  is  done  — he  steps  into  the  welcome  chaise. 
Lolls  at  his  ease  behind  four  handsome  bays. 
That  whirl  away  from  business  and  debate 
The  disencumbered  Atlas  of  the  state. 

Tire    SHBPHEBD-BOV.  —  FUEEDOM  —  *S    IT    APPEARS    TO    HIM 
AND   TO   THE   STATE   URCTGE. 

Ask  not  the  boy,  who,  when  the  breeze  of  morn 
First  shakes  the  glittering  drops  from  every  thorn, 
Unfolds  his  flock,  then  under  bank  or  bush 
Sits  linking  cherry-stones,  or  platting  rush. 
How  fair  is  freedom  ?  —  he  was  always  free  : 
To  carve  his  rustic  name  upon  a  tree. 
To  snare  the  mole,  or  with  ill-fashioned  hook 
To  draw  th'  incautious  minnow  from  the  brook, 
Are  life's  prime  pleasures  in  his  simple  view. 
His  flock  the  chief  concern  ho  ever  knew  ; 
She  shines  but  little  in  his  heedless  eyes, 
The  good  we  never  miss  we  rarely  prize  : 
But  ask  the  noble  drudge  in  state  affairs. 
Escaped  from  oflice  and  its  constant  cares, 
What  charms  ho  sees  in  freedom's  smile  expressed, 
In  freedom  lost  so  long,  now  repossessed  ; 
The  tongue,  whose  strains  were  cogent  as  commands. 
Revered  at  homo,  and  felt  in  foreign  lands. 
Shall  own  itself  a  stammerer  in  that  cause. 
Or  plead  its  silence  as  its  best  applause. 

TUB  STATE  DRCDOE'S  BEUSR  OP  NATCBE  AND  THE  C(USTRY. 
—  UKDOK-BOWS.  —  UEADS.  —  DOWNS.  — THE   SEA-UOY. 

He  knows  indeed  that,  whether  dressed  or  rude. 
Wild  without  art,  or  artfully  subdued. 
Nature  in  every  form  inspires  delight, 
But  never  marked  her  with  so  just  a  sight. 


Her  hedgerow  shrubs,  a  variegated  store, 
With  woodbine  and  wild  roses  mantled  o'er, 
Green  balks  and  furrowed  lands,  the  stream,  that 
Its  cooling  vapor  o'er  the  dewy  meads,         [spreads 
Downs,  that  almost  escape  th'  inquiring  eye, 
That  melt  and  fade  into  the  distant  sky. 
Beauties  ho  lately  slighted  as  ho  passed. 
Seem  all  created  since  ho  travelled  last. 
Master  of  all  th'  enjoyments  he  designed. 
No  rough  annoyance  rankling  in  his  mijid, 
What  early  philosophic  hours  ho  keeps. 
How  regular  his  meals,  how  sound  he  sleeps  ! 
Not  sounder  he,  that  on  the  mainmast  hciui, 
While  morning  kindles  with  a  wiuily  rod, 
Begins  a  long  look-out  for  distant  land, 
Nor  quits  till  evening  watch  his  giddy  stand. 
Then  swift  descending,  with  a  seaman's  haste, 
Slips  to  his  hammock,  and  forgets  the  blast. 


He  chooses  company,  but  not  the  squire's. 
Whose  wit  is  rudeness,  whose  good-breeding  tires  ; 
Nor  yet  the  parson's,  who  would  gladly  come. 
Obsequious  when  abroad,  though  proud  at  home  ; 
Nor  can  he  much  affect  the  neighboring  peer. 
Whoso  too  of  emulation  troads  too  near  ; 
But  wisely  seeks  a  more  convenient  friend. 
With  whom,  dismissing  forms,  he  may  unbend  ! 
A  man,  whom  marks  of  condescending  grace 
Teach,  while  they  flatter  him,  his  proper  place  ; 
Who  comes  when  called,  and  at  a  word  withdraws, 
Speaks  with  reserve,  and  listens  with  applause  ; 
Some  plain  mechanic,  who,  without  pretence 
To  birth  or  wit,  nor  gives  nor  tokes  offence  ; 
On  whom  he  rests  well  pleased  his  weary  powers. 
And  tiilks  and  laughs  away  his  vacant  hours. 
The  tide  of  life,  swift  always  in  its  course. 
May  run  in  cities  with  a  brisker  force, 
But  nowhere  with  a  current  so  serene, 
Or  half  so  clear,  as  in  the  rural  scene. 


Yet  how  fallacious  is  all  earthly  bliss  ! 
What  obvious  truths  the  wisest  heads  may  miss  ! 
Some  pleasures  live  a  month,  and  some  a  year, 
But  short  the  date  of  all  we  gather  hero  ; 
No  happiness  is  felt,  except  the  true. 
That  does  not  charm  the  more  for  being  new. 
This  observation  as  it  chanced,  not  made. 
Or  if  the  thoUijht  occurred,  not  duly  weighed. 
He  sighs—  for  after  all  by  slow  degrees 
The  spot  he  loved  has  lost  the  power  to  please  ; 
To  cross  his  ambling  pony  day  by  day, 
Seoms  at  the  best  but  dreaming  life  away  ; 
The  prospect,  such  as  might  enchant  despair. 
He  views  it  not,  or  sees  no  beauty  there  ; 
With  aching  heart,  and  discontented  looks. 
Returns  at  noon  to  billiards  or  to  books. 
But  feols,  while  grasping  at  his  faded  joys, 
A  secret  thirst  of  his  renounced  employs. 


364 


KURAL   POETRY.  —  COWPER. 


He  chides  the  tardiness  of  every  post, 

Pants  to  be  told  of  battles  won  or  lost, 

Blames  his  own  indolence,  observes,  though  late, 

'T  is  criminal  to  leave  a  sinking  state. 

Flies  to  the  levee,  and,  received  with  grace. 

Kneels,  kisses  hands,  and  shines  again  in  place. 


Suburban  villas,  highway-side  retreats, 
That  dread  th'  encroachment  of  our  growing  streets, 
Tight  boxe^  neatly  sashed,  and  in  a  blaze 
With  all  a  July  sun's  collected  rays, 
Delight  the  citizen,  who,  gasping  there, 
Breathes  clouds  of  dust,  and  calls  it  country  air. 
0  sweet  retirement,  who  would  balk  the  thought. 
That  could  afford  retirement,  or  could  not  ? 
'T  is  such  au  easy  walk,  so  smooth  and  straight, 
The  second  milestone  fronts  the  garden  gate  ; 
A  step  if  fair,  and  if  a  shower  approach. 
You  find  safe  shelter  in  the  next  stage-coach. 
There,  prisoned  in  a  parlor  snug  and  small, 
Like  bottled  wasps  upon  a  southern  wall. 
The  man  of  business  and  his  friends,  compressed, 
Forget  their  labors,  and  yet  find  no  rest  ; 
But  still  't  is  rural  —  trees  are  to  be  seen 
From  every  window,  and  the  fields  are  green  ; 
Ducks  paddle  in  the  pond  before  the  door. 
And  what  could  a  remoter  scene  show  more  ? 

SB  REQtnBE,  OR   CAN  COMMAND,  ELEGANT 


A  sense  of  elegance  we  rarely  find 
The  portion  of  a  mean  or  vulgar  mind  ; 
And  ignorance  of  better  things  makes  man. 
Who  cannot  much,  rejoice  in  what  he  can  ; 
And  he  that  deems  his  leisure  well  bestowed. 
In  contemplation  of  a  turnpike  road, 
Is  occupied  as  well,  employs  his  hours 
As  wisely,  and  as  much  improves  his  powers, 
As  he  that  slumbers  in  pavilions  graced 
With  all  the  charms  of  an  accomplished  taste. 
Yet  hence,  alas  !  insolvencies  ;  and  hence 
Th'  unpitied  victim  of  ill-judged  expense, 
From  all  his  wearisome  engagements  freed. 
Shakes  hands  with  business,  and  retires  indeed. 

FASHIONABLE  MIGRATION   TO   THE  SEA-SHORE. 

Your  prudent  grandmammas,  ye  modern  belles, 
Content  with  Bristol,  Bath,  and  Tunbridge-wells, 
'\Vhen  health  required  it  would  consent  to  roam. 
Else  more  attached  to  pleasures  found  at  home. 
But  now  alike,  gay  widow,  virgin,  wife. 
Ingenious  to  diversify  dull  life, 
In  coaches,  chaises,  caravans,  and  hoys, 
Fly  to  the  coast  for  daily,  nightly  joys. 
And  all,  impatient  of  dry  land,  agree 
With  one  consent  to  rush  into  the  sea.  — 

THE  OCEAN.  — ITS  SMILES   AND   ITS  TERRORS. 

Ocean  exhibits,  fathomless  and  broad, 
Much  of  the  power  and  majesty  of  Uod. 
He  swathes  about  the  swelling  of  the  deep. 
That  shines  and  rests  as  infants  smile  and  sleep  ; 
Vast  as  it  is,  it  answers  as  it  flows 


The  breathings  of  the  lightest  air  that  blows  ; 
Curling  and  whitening  over  all  the  waste. 
The  rising  waves  obey  th'  increasing  blast. 
Abrupt  and  horrid,  os  the  tempest  roars. 
Thunder  and  flash  upon  the  stedfast  shores, 
Till  He,  that  rides  the  whirlwind,  checks  the  reir 
Then  all  the  world  of  waters  sleeps  again. 
Nereids  or  Dryads,  as  the  fashion  leads. 
Now  in  the  floods,  now  panting  in  the  meads. 
Votaries  of  Pleasure  still,  where'er  she  dwells. 
Near  barren  rocks,  in  palaces,  or  cells, 
0  grant  a  poet  leave  to  recommend 
(A  poet  fond  of  nature,  and  your  friend) 
Her  slighted  works  to  your  admiring  view  ; 
Her  works  must  needs  excel,  who  fashioned  you. 


Would  ye,  when  rambling  in  your  morning  ride. 
With  some  unmeaning  coxcomb  at  your  side, 
Condemn  the  prattler  for  his  idle  pains. 
To  waste  unheard  the  music  of  his  strains. 
And,  deaf  to  all  th'  impertinence  of  tongue. 
That,  while  it  courts,  affronts  and  does  you  wrong, 
Mark  well  the  finished  plan  without  a  fault. 
The  seas  globose  and  huge,  th'  o'er-arching  vault. 
Earth's  millions  daily  fed,  a  world  employed 
In  gathering  plenty  yet  to  be  enjoyed. 
Till  gratitude  grew  vocal  in  the  praise 
Of  God,  beneficent  in  all  his  ways  ; 
Graced  with  such  wisdom,  how  would  beauty  shine  ! 
Ye  want  but  that  to  seem  indeed  divine. 


Anticipated  rents,  and  bills  unpaid. 
Force  many  a  shining  youth  into  the  shade, 
Not  to  redeem  his  time,  but  his  estate, 
And  play  the  fool,  but  at  a  cheaper  rate. 
There,  hid  in  loathed  obscurity,  removed 
From  pleasures  left,  but  never  more  beloved, 
He  just  endures,  and  with  a  sickly  spleen 
Sighs  o'er  the  beauties  of  the  charming  scene. 
Nature  indeed  looks  prettily  in  rhyme  ; 
Streams  tinkle  sweetly  in  poetic  chime  : 
The  warblings  of  the  blackbird,  clear  and  strong. 
Are  musical  enough  in  Thomson's  song  ; 
And  Cobham's  groves,  and  Windsor's  green  retreats, 
When  Pope  describes  them,  have  a  thousand  sweets  ; 
He  likes  the  country,  but  in  truth  must  own, 
Most  likes  it,  when  he  studies  it  in  town. 


GOOD-NATCRED    WILD   J 

Poor  Jack  —  no  matter  who  —  for  when  I  blame 
I  pity,  and  must  therefore  sink  the  name. 
Lived  in  his  saddle,  loved  the  chase,  the  course. 
And  always,  ere  he  mounted,  kissed  his  horse. 
Th'  estate,  his  sires  had  owned  in  ancient  years, 
Was  quickly  distanced,  matched  against  a  peer's. 
Jack  vanished,  was  regretted  and  forgot  ; 
'T  is  wild  good-nature's  never-failing  lot. 
At  length,  when  all  had  long  supposed  him  dead. 
By  cold  submersion,  razor,  rope,  or  lead, 


My  lord,  alighting  at  his  usual  |)lace, 
The  Cruwn,  took  notice  of  an  ostler's  faoo. 
Jack  knew  his  friend,  but  hoped  in  that  disguise 
He  might  escape  the  most  observing  eyes, 
And  whistling,  as  if  unconoerned  and  gay, 
Curried  his  nag,  and  looked  another  way. 
Convinced  at  last,  upon  a  nearer  view, 
'T  was  he,  the  same,  the  very  Jack  he  knew  ; 
O'envhelmcd  at  once  with  wonder,  grief,  and  joy. 
He  pressed  him  much  to  quit  his  base  employ  ; 
His  countenance,  his  purse,  his  heart,  his  hand. 
Influence  and  power,  were  all  at  his  command  : 
Peers  are  not  always  generous  as  well-bred, 
liut  Granby  was,  meant  truly  what  ho  said,  [strange, 
Jack    bowed,  and    was    obliged,    confessed    'twas 
That  so  retired  ho  should  not  wish  a  change. 
But  knew  no  medium  between  gu7.zling  boor 

nt  —  three  thousand  pounds  a  year. 


Nor  such  a^  useless  oonvorsation  breeds, 
Or  lust  engenders,  and  indulgence  feeds. 


Andl 


Thus  some  retire  to  nourish  hopeless  woe  ; 
Some  seeking  happiness  not  found  below  ; 
Some  to  comply  with  humor,  and  a  mind 
To  social  scenes  by  nature  disinclined  ; 
Some  swayed  by  faahion,  some  by  deep  disgust ; 
Some  self-impoverished,  and  because  they  must ; 
But  few,  that  court  retirement,  are  aware 
Of  half  the  toils  they  must  encounter  there. 

Lucrative  offices  are  seldom  lost 
For  want  of  powers  proportioned  to  the  post : 
Give  even  a  dunce  the  employment  he  desires, 
finds  the  talents  it  requires  ; 


Furnishes  always  oil  for  its  own  wheels, 
liut  in  his  arduous  enterprise  to  close 
His  active  years  with  indolent  repose. 
He  finds  the  labors  of  that  state  e.\ceed 
His  utmost  faculties,  severe  indeed  ! 

LRISCRE  DIFFICCLT  TO  MANAOE.  —  xnoDGHT  AND  KEVERY. 

'T  is  easy  to  resign  a  toilsome  place. 
But  not  to  manage  leisure  with  a  grace  ; 
Absence  of  occupation  is  not  rest, 
A  mind  quite  vacant  is  a  mind  distressed. 
The  veteran  steed,  excused  his  task  at  length. 
In  kind  compassion  of  his  failing  strength. 
And  turned  into  tlie  park  or  mead  to  graze, 
K.\cmpt  from  future  service  all  bis  days. 
There  feels  a  pleasure  perfect  in  its  kind, 
Ranges  at  liberty,  and  snuSi  the  wind  : 
But  when  his  lord  would  quit  the  busy  road, 
To  taste  a  joy  like  that  ho  had  bestowed, 
He  proves,  less  happy  than  his  favored  brute, 
A  life  of  ease  a  difficult  pursuit. 

Thought,  to  the  man  that  never  thinks,  may  seem 
As  natural  as  when  asleep  to  dream  ; 
But  reveries  (for  human  minds  will  act) 
Specious  in  show,  impossible  in  fact. 
Those  flimsy  webs,  that  break  as  soon  as  wrought. 
Attain  not  to  the  dignity  of  thought  : 
Nor  yet  the  swarms,  that  occupy  the  brain. 
Where  dreams  of  dress,  intrigue,  and  pleoauro,  reign ; 


'       Whence,  and  what  are  we  ?  to  what  end  ordained  ? 

j   What  means  the  drama  by  the  world  sustained  '! 

I   Business  or  vain  amusement,  care  or  mirth, 

■  Divide  the  frail  inhabitants  of  earth. 
Is  duty  a  mere  sport,  or  an  employ  ? 
Life  an  intrusted  talent,  or  a  toy  ? 
Is  there,  ns  reason,  conscience.  Scripture,  say, 
Cause  to  provide  for  a  great  future  day. 
When,  earth's  assigned  duration  at  an  end, 
Man  shall  be  summoned,  and  the  dead  attend  ? 
The  trumpet  —  will  it  sound  ;  the  curtain  rise, 
And  show  the  august  tribunal  of  the  skies  ; 
Where  no  prevarication  shall  avail, 
Where  eloquence  and  artifice  shall  fail, 
The  pride  of  arrogant  distinctions  fall, 
And  conscience  and  our  conduct  judge  us  all  ? 

TUB  LABOM  OF  THE  LEARXKD  WKIOUKD. 

Pardon  me,  yo  that  give  the  midnight  oil 
To  learned  cares,  or  philosophic  toil. 
Though  I  revere  your  honorable  names, 
Yonr  useful  labors  and  important  aims. 
And  hold  the  world  indebted  to  your  aid. 
Enriched  with  the  discoveries  ye  have  made  ; 
Yet  let  me  stand  excused,  if  I  esteem 
A  mind  employed  on  so  sublime  a  theme. 
Pushing  her  bold  inquiry  to  the  date 
And  outline  of  the  present  transient  state. 
And,  after  poising  her  adventurous  wings, 
Settling  at  last  upon  eternal  things, 
Far  more  intelligent,  and  better  taught 
The  strenuous  use  of  profitivble  thought. 
Than  ye,  when  happiest,  and  enlightened  most. 
And  highest  in  renown,  can  justly  boast. 

WHAT   LrTEBATCRB    LEISl'RE    NEEDS. 

A  mind  unnerved,  or  indisposed  to  bear 
The  weight  of  subjects  worthiest  of  her  care. 
Whatever  hopes  a  change  of  scene  inspires. 
Must  change  her  nature,  or  in  vain  retires. 
An  idler  is  a  watch,  that  wants  both  hands  j 
As  useless  if  it  goes,  as  when  it  stands. 
Books  therefore,  not  the  scandal  of  the  shelves, 
In  which  lewd  sensualists  print  out  themselves  ; 
Nor  those  in  which  the  stage  gives  vice  a  blow. 
With  what  success  let  modern  manners  show  ; 
Nor  his,  who,  for  the  bane  of  thousands  bom. 
Built  God  a  church,  and  laughed  his  Word  to  scorn. 
Skilful  alike  to  seem  devout  and  just, 
And  stab  religion  with  a  sly  side-thrust ; 
Nor  those  of  learned  philologists,  who  chase 
A  panting  syllable  through  time  and  space. 
Start  it  at  home,  and  hunt  it  in  the  dark. 
To  Gaul,  to  Greece,  and  into  Noah's  ark  ; 
But  such  OS  learning  without  false  pretence. 
The  friend  of  truth,  the  associate  of  sound  sense. 
And  such  as,  in  the  zeal  of  good  design. 
Strong  judgment  laboring  in  the  Scripture  mine. 


KURAL    POETRY. COWPER. 


All  such  as  manly  and  great  souls  produce. 
Worthy  to  live,  and  of  etarnal  use  : 
Behold  in  these  what  leisure  hours  demand, 
Amusement  and  true  knowledge  hand  in  hand. 


Luxury  gives  the  mind  a  childish  cast. 
And  while  she  polishes,  perverts  the  taste  ; 
Habits  of  close  attention,  thinking  heads, 
Become  more  rare  as  dissipation  spreads. 
Till  authors  hear  at  length  one  general  cry,  — 
Tickle  and  entertain  us,  or  we  die. 
The  loud  demand,  from  year  to  year  the  same, 
Beggars  invention,  and  makes  fancy  lame  ; 
Till  farce  itself,  most  mournfully  jejune. 
Calls  for  the  kind  assistance  of  a  tune  ; 
And  novels  (witness  every  month's  review) 
Belie  their  name,  and  offer  nothing  new. 
The  mind,  relaxing  into  needful  sport, 
Should  turn  to  writers  of  an  abler  sort. 
Whose  wit  well  managed,  and  whose  elassio  style, 
Give  truth  a  lustre,  and  make  wisdom  smile. 


Friends  (for  I  cannot  stint,  as  some  have  done. 
Too  rigid  in  my  view,  that  name  to  one  ; 
Though  one,  I  grant  it,  in  the  generous  breast 
Will  stand  advanced  a  step  above  the  rest  : 
Flowers  by  that  name  promiscuously  we  call, 
But  one,  the  rose,  the  regent  of  them  all)  — 
Friends,  not  adopted  with  a  school-boy'B  haste. 
But  chosen  with  a  nice-discerning  taste. 
Well-born,  well-disciplined,  who,  placed  apart 
From  vulgar  minds,  have  honor  much  at  heart. 
And,  though  the  world  may  think  the  ingredients 
The  love  of  virtue,  and  the  fear  of  God  !  [odd, 

Such  friends  prevent  what  else  would  soon  succeed, 
A  temper  rustic  as  the  life  we  lead. 
And  keep  the  polish  of  the  manners  clean, 
As  theirs  who  bustle  in  the  busiest  scene. 

For  solitude,  however  some  may  rave. 
Seeming  a  sanctuary,  proves  a  grave, 
A  sepulchre,  in  which  the  living  lie, 
Where  all  good  qualities  grow  sick  and  die. 
I  praise  the  Frenchman,'  his  remark  was  shrewd  — 
How  sweet,  how  passing  sweet,  is  solitude  ! 
But  grant  me  still  a  friend  in  my  retreat. 
Whom  I  may  whisper  —  solitude  is  sweet. 
Yet  neither  these  delights,  nor  aught  beside, 
That  appetite  can  ask,  or  wealth  provide. 
Can  save  us  always  from  a  tedious  day. 
Or  shine  the  dulness  of  still  life  away  ; 
Divine  communion,  carefully  enjoyed, 
Or  sought  with  energy,  must  fill  the  void. 

0  sabred  art,  to  which  alone  life  owes 
Its  happiest  seasons,  and  a  peaceful  close. 
Scorned  in  a  world,  indebted  to  that  scorn 
.  For  evils  daily  felt  and  hardly  borne, 


Not  knowing  thee,  we  reap  with  bleeding  hands 

Flowers  of  rank  odor  upon  thorny  lauds. 

And,  while  experience  cautions  us  in  vain, 

Grasp  seeming  happiness,  and  find  it  pain. 

Despondence,  self-deserted  in  her  grief. 

Lost  by  abandoning  her  own  relief, 

Murmuring  and  ungrateful  discontent, 

That  scorns  afflictions  mercifully  meant. 

Those  humors,  tart  as  wine  upon  the  fret. 

Which  idleness  and  weariness  beget ;  [breast. 

These,  and   a   thousand  plagues,  that  haunt   the 

Fond  of  the  phantom  of  an  earthly  rest. 

Divine  communion  chases,  as  the  day 

Drives  to  their  dens  the  obedient  beasts  of  prey. 

See  Judah's  promised  king,  bereft  of  all, 
IJriven  out  an  exile  from  the  face  of  Saul, 
To  distant  caves  the  lonely  wanderer  flies. 
To  seek  that  peace  a  tyrant's  frown  denies. 
Hear  the  sweet  accents  of  his  tuneful  voice ; 
Hear  him,  o'erwhelmed  with  sorrow,  yet  rejoice  ; 
No  womanish  or  wailing  grief  has  part, 
No,  not  a  moment,  in  his  royal  heart  ; 
'T  is  manly  music,  such  as  martyrs  make. 
Suffering  with  gladness  for  a  Saviour's  sake  ; 
His  soul  exults,  hope  animates  his  lays. 
The  sense  of  mercy  kindles  into  praise. 
And  wilds,  familiar  with  a  lion's  roar. 
Ring  with  ecstatic  sounds  unheard  before  : 
'T  is  love  like  his  that  can  alone  defeat 
The  foes  of  man,  or  make  a  desert  sweet. 


Religi.>Ti  .1 Ti"t  ,-,Mi<iir.-  ..r  exclude 

Unnumberr.l  |.|r;i-inr^  li;i  i  iiilfssly  pursued  ; 
To  sturdy  cultui.-,  an. I  nitii  ;iitful  toil 
To  meliorate  and  tame  the  stubborn  soil  ; 
To  give  dissimilar  yet  fruitful  lands 
The  grain,  or  herb,  or  plant,  that  each  demands 
To  cherish  virtue  in  an  humble  state. 
And  share  the  joys  your  bounty  may  create  ; 
To  mark  the  matchless  workings  of  the  power 
That  shuts  within  its  seed  the  future  flower, 
Bids  these  in  elegatiee  of  t'^'Vin  -xri  I. 
In  color  these,  ami  thn-r  il(lii:lii  t\,r  .^niell. 
Sends  nature  forth  t\f  <hm,L;lil''i  "I'  iIh'  skies. 
To  dance  on  eartli,  ami  ebann  all  human  eyes  ; 
To  teach  the  canvas  innocent  deceit, 
Or  lay  the  landscape  on  the  snowy  sheet  — 
These,  these  are  arts  pursued  without  a  crime, 
That  leave  no  stain  upon  the  wing  of  time. 
TUB  poet's  ilM. 

Me  poetry  (or  rather  notes  that  aim 
Feebly  and  vainly  at  poetic  fame) 
Employs,  shut  out  from  more  important  views. 
Fast  by  the  banks  of  the  slow-winding  Ouse  ; 
Content  if  thus  sequestered  I  may  raise 
A  monitor's,  though  not  a  poet's  praise, 
And  while  I  teach  an  art  too  little  known, 
To  close  life  wisely,  may  not  waste  my  own. 


|asior;i(5   for    liliUinulifi 


BURNS'S  "  COTTER'S  SATURDAY  NIGHT.' 

My  lovod,  my  honored,  much  respected  friend  ! 

No  mercenary  bard  bis  homage  pays  : 
With  honest  pride  I  scorn  each  selfish  end, 

My  dearest  meed,  a  friend's  esteem  and  praise  : 
To  you  I  sing,  in  simple  Scottish  lays. 

The  lowly  train  in  life's  sequestered  scone. 
The  native  feelings  strong,  the  guileless  ways 

Which  A in  a  cottAgo  would  have  been  ; 

Ah  !  though  his  worth  unknown,  far  happier  there, 


November  chill  blaws  loud  wi'  angry  sugh  ; 

The  short'ning  wint^-r  tlMv  t-  ii'-nr  a  close  ; 
The  miry  beasL<  r'ft.  ti  ii;_'  lu.   il,,   j,K-ugh, 

The  blnck'nin;;  ii:iii  -      i  :  ,.u  -  t  .  ilirir  repose  ; 
The  toil-worn  Ci.ltir  im.'  I.i-  lilh.r  ^■.ll•s, 

This  night  his  weekly  nu.il  is  :it  an  end. 
Collects  his  spades,  his  mattocks,  and  his  hoes, 

Hoping  the  morn  in  case  and  rest  to  spend, 
And  weary,  o'er  the  moor,  his  course  does  hameward 
bend. 

At  length  his  lonely  cot  appears  in  view, 

liencath  the  shelter  of  an  aged  tree  ; 
The  expectant  woo-things,  toddlin,  staehor  through, 

To  meet  their  dad,  wi'  flichterin  noise  and  glee. 
His  woe  bit  ingle  blinkin  bonnily. 

His  clean  hearth-stane,  his  thrifty  wifio's  smile. 
The  lisping  infant  prattling  on  his  knee, 

Does  a'  his  weary,  carking  cares  beguile, 
An'  makes  him  quite  forget  his  labor  and  his  toil. 

Eelyve  the  elder  bairns  come  drappiu  in,      • 

At  service  out  amang  the  farmers  roun'  ; 
Some  ea'  the  plough,  some  herd,  some  tontie  rin 

A  oannie  errand  to  a  neobor  town  : 
Their  eldest  hope,  their  Jenny,  woman  grown. 

In  youthfu'  bloom,  love  sparkling  in  her  e'e, 
Comes  hame,  perhaps,  to  show  a  braw  now  gown. 

Or  deposit  her  sair-won  penny  fee. 
To  help  her  parents  dear,  if  they  in  hardship  be. 

Wi'  joy  unfeigned,  brothers  and  sisters  meet. 

An'  each  for  other's  welfare  kindly  spiers  : 
The  social  hours,  swift-wing'd,  unnoticed  fleet ; 

Each  tells  the  uncos  that  ho  sees  or  hoars  ; 
The  parents,  partial,  eye  their  hopeful  years  ; 

Anticipation  forward  points  the  view  ; 
The  mother,  wi'  her  needle  an'  her  shears. 

Gars  auld  claes  look  amaist  as  weel  's  the  new  ; 
The  father  mixes  a 


Their  master's  an'  their  mistress's  command 

The  yonkors  a'  are  warned  to  obey. 
An'  mind  their  labors  wi'  an  cydont  hand. 

An'  ne'er,  tho'  out  o'  sight,  to  jauk  or  play  ; 
An'  0  !  be  sure  to  fear  the  Lord  ulway  ! 

An'  mind  your  duty,  duly,  morn  and  night, 
Lest  in  temptation's  path  ye  gang  astray  ; 

Implore  His  counsel  and  assisting  might. 
They  never  sought  in  vain  who  sought  the  Lord 
aright. 

But,  hark  !  a  rap  comes  gently  to  the  door  — 

Jenny,  wha  kens  the  meaning  o'  tho  same. 
Tolls  how  a  neebor  lad  cam  o'er  the  moor 

To  do  some  errands  and  convoy  her  hame. 
Tho  wily  mother  sees  tho  conscious  flame 

Sparkle  in  Jenny's  e'e,  and  flush  her  cheek, 
AVith  heart-struck,  anxious  caro,  inquires  his  name. 

While  Jenny  hafHins  is  afraid  to  speak  ; 
Weel  pleased  tho  mother  hears  it's  nao  wild,  worth- 
less rake. 

Wi'  kindly  welcome,  Jonny  brings  him  ben  : 
A  strappan  youth  ;  he  takes  the  mother's  eye  ; 

hlythe  Jenny  sees  the  visit 's  no  ill  ta'en  : 

Th.-  1-ith.T  .■„.■];•  „f  1, :,r--.-.  i.I.-n-lw,  and  kyo  : 

Th.-  V ,-i.V.    .,i!.     .   V,,,,   ,,-, 


J"y  : 


T1"V""<1'— ■  ••  > -,■,„, I,  -,,.:„,-i,y 

What  miikt-'s  the  youth  s.io  Ijiishfu'  an'  sae  grave, 
Weel  pleased  to  think  her  bairn's  respected  like  the 
lave. 

0  happy  love  !  where  lovo  like  this  is  found  ! 

0  heartfelt  raptures  !  bliss  beyond  compare  ! 

1  've  paced  much  this  weary,  mortal  round. 

And  sage  experience  bids  mo  this  declare  : 
If  Heaven  a  draught  of  heavenly  pleasure  spare, 

One  cordial  in  this  melancholy  vale, 
T  is  when  a  youthful,  loving,  modest  pair 

In  other's  arms  breathe  out  the  tender  talc, 
Beneath  tho  milk-white  thorn  that  scents  the  even- 
ing gale. 

Is  there,  in  human  form,  that  bears  a  heart  — 

A  wretch  !  a  villain  !  lost  t«  love  and  truth  !  — 
That  can,  with  studied,  sly,  ensnaring  art. 

Betray  sweet  Jenny's  unsuspecting  youth  7 
Curse  on  his  perjured  arts  !  dissembling  smooth  ! 

Are  honor,  virtue,  conscience,  all  exiled  1 
Is  there  no  pity,  no  relenting  ruth. 

Points  to  the  parents  fondling  o'er  their  child, 
Then  paints  the  ruined  maid,  and  their  distraction 
wild? 


RURAL  POETRY. BURNS rLETCHER. 


But  now  the  supper  crowns  the  simple  board  : 

The  halesome  parritch,  chief  o'  Scotia's  food  : 
The  soup  their  only  hawkie  does  afford, 

That  'yont  the  hallan  snugly  chows  her  cood  ; 
The  dame  brings  forth  in  complimental  mood, 

To  grace  the  lad,  her  weel-hain'd  kebbuck  fell. 
And  aft  he 's  prest,  and  aft  he  ca's  it  guid. 

The  frugal  wifie,  garrulous,  will  tell 
How  thus  a  towmond  auld,  sin'  lint  was  i'  the  bell. 

The  cheerfu'  supper  done,  wi'  serious  face, 

They  round  the  ingle  form  a  circle  wide  ; 
The  sire  turns  o'er,  wi'  patriarchal  grace, 

The  big  Ha'  Bible,  ance  his  father's  pride  ; 
His  bonnet  reverently  is  laid  aside,* 

His  lyart  haffets  wearin  thin  an'  bare. 
Those  strains  that  once  did  sweet  in  Zion  glide, 

He  wales  a  portion  with  judicious  care  ; 
And,  let  us  worship  God  !  he  says,  with  solemn  air. 

They  chant  their  artless  notes  in  simple  guise. 

They  tunc  their  hearts,  by  far  the  noblest  aim  ; 
Perhaps  Dundee's  wild  warbling  measures  rise, 

Or  plaintive  Martyrs,  worthy  of  the  name, 
Or  noble  Elgin  beets  the  heavenward  flame, 

The  sweetest  far  of  Scotia's  holy  lays  ; 
Compared  with  these  Italian  trills  are  tame  ; 

The  tickled  ears  no  heartfelt  raptures  raise  : 
Nae  unison  hae  they  with  our  Creator's  praise. 

The  priest-like  father  reads  the  sacred  page, 

How  Abram  was  the  friend  of  God  on  high  ; 
Or  Moses  bade  eternal  warfare  wage 

With  Amalek's  ungracious  progeny  ; 
Or  how  the  royal  bard  did  groaning  lie 

Beneath  the  stroke  of  Heaven's  avenging  ire. 
Or  Job's  pathetic  plaint,  and  wailing  cry  ; 

Or  rapt  Isaiah's  wild  seraphic  fire  ; 
Or  other  holy  seers  that  tune  the  sacred  lyre. 

Then  kneeling  down,  to  heaven's  eternal  King, 

The  saint,  the  father,  and  the  husband  prays  ;  — 
Hope  '  springs  exulting  on  triumphant  wing,' 

That  thus  they  all  shall  meet  in  future  days  ; 
There  ever  bask  in  uncreated  rays  ; 

No  more  to  sigh,  or  shed  the  bitter  tear, 
Together  hymning  their  Creator's  praise, 

In  such  society,  yet  still  more  dear, 
While  circling  time  moves  round  in  an  eternal  sphere. 

Then  homeward  all  take  off  their  several  way, 
The  youngling  cottagers  retire  to  rest. 

The  parent  pair  their  secret  homage  pay, 

And  proffer  up  to  Heaven  their  warm  request, 

That  He  who  stills  the  raven's  clamorous  nest. 


And  decks  the  lily  fair  in  flowery  pride, 
Would,  in  the  way  his  wisdom  sees  the  best, 
-  For  them  and  for  their  little  ones  provide. 
But  chiefly  in  their  hearts  with  grace  divine  preside. 


blossom  i  iiii.\  hall  ;  lyurt,  gray  ;  hallets,  Uinplcs  ;  wales, 
selects  ;  beets,  aJils  fuel  to  ;  Dundee  and  Elgin,  well-known 
psalm  tunes.  —  See  also  glossaries,  pp.  186,  336. 


FLETCHER'S  "SHEPHERD'S  EVE." 

Shepherds  all,  and  maidens  fair, 
Fold  your  flocks  up,  for  the  air 
'Gins  to  thicken,  and  the  sun 
Already  his  great  course  hath  run. 
See  the  dew-drops,  how  they  kiss 
Every  little  flower  that  is 
Hanging  on  their  velvet  heads, 
Like  a  rope  of  crystal  beads  ; 
Sec  the  heavy  clouds  low  felling, 
And  bright  Hesperus  down  calling 
The  dead  night  from  underground  ; 
At  whose  rising  mists  unsound. 
Damps  and  vapors  fly  apace. 
Hovering  o'er  the  wanton  face 
Of  those  pastures  where  they  come, 
Striking  dead  both  bud  and  bloom. 
Therefore  from  such  danger  lock 
Every  one  his  loved  flock  ; 
And  let  your  dogs  lie  loose  without. 
Lest  the  wolf  come  as  a  scout 
From  the  mountain,  and,  ere  day, 
Bear  a  lamb  or  kid  away  ; 
Or  the  crafty,  thievish  fox 
Break  upon  your  simple  flocks. 
To  secure  yourself  from  these, 
Be  not  too  secure  in  ease  ; 
Let  one  eye  his  watches  keep. 
While  the  other  eye  doth  sleep  ; 
So  you  shall  good  shepherds  prove. 
And  forever  hold  the  love 
Of  our  great  God.     Sweetest  slumbers, 
And  soft  silence,  fall  in  numbers 
On  your  eyelids  !  so  farewell  ! 
Thus  I  end  my  evening  knell ! 


(Trail lie's    "'^lavish    lUiiistcv 


■  .M.UUIIAGES.  " 


wealthy  couple :  relucwno.-  In  llie  husbanil,  why  ?  Un- 
usually  fair  siKnaturcs  in  the  register  :  the  common  iiind. 
Seduction  of  Bridget  Dawdle,  by  footman  Daniel ;  her 

threi;  comparisons  on  the  occasion.  More  pleasant  view 
of  villn^u  n)ntriniony :  farmers  celebrating  tile  day  of 
marriage  :  their  wives.  Keul>en  and  Rachel  an  happy 
pair  :  an  example  of  prudent  delay.  Reflections  on  their 
state  who  were  not  so  prudent,  and  its  improvement 
towards  the  termination  of  life :  an  old  man  so  circum- 
stanced. Attempt  to  seduce  a  village  beauty  :  persuasion 
and  reply  :  the  event. 

Nubcre  si  quA  voles  quamvis  propcrabitis  ambo, 
Differ  }  habent  parvm  commoda  magna  morfe. 

Ovid.  Fast.  lit).  3. 


Disposed  to  wed,  e'on  while  you  hasten,  stay, 
There  's  great  advantage  in  a  stuall  delay  ; 
Thus  Ovid  sang,  and  much  the  wii^e  approve 
This  prudent  ma.\iin  of  the  priest  of  love  : 
If  poor,  delay  shall  for  that  want  prepare, 
That,  on  the  hasty,  brings  a  world  of  care  ; 
If  rich,  delay  shall  brace  the  thoughtful  mind, 
T'  endure  the  ills  that  even  the  happiest  find  : 
Delay  shall  knowledge  yield,  on  either  part, 
And  show  the  value  of  the  vanquished  heart : 
The  humors,  passions,  merits,  failings,  prove. 
And  gently  raise  the  veil  that 's  worn  by  love  ; 
Love,  that  impatient  guide  !  —  too  proud  to  think 
Of  vulgar  wants,  of  clothing,  meat,  and  drink. 
Urges  our  amorous  swains  their  joys  to  seize. 
And  then  at  rags  and  hunger  frightened  flees  : 
Yet  thee  too  long  let  not  thy  fears  detain  ; 
Till  age,  refrain  not  —  but  if  old,  refrain. 


By  no  such  rule  would  Gaffer  Kirk  be  tied  ; 
First  in  the  year  ho  led  a  blooming  bride, 
And  stood  a  withered  elder  athcr  side. 
0  !  Xathan  !  Xathan  !  at  thy  years  trepanned. 
To  take  a  wanton  harlot  by  the  hand  ! 
Thi.u,  k\v>  wi-rt  u.iscd  so  tartly  to  express 
Thy  scnst>  uf  matrimonial  happiness. 
Till  every  youth,  whose  banns  at  church  were  read, 
Strove  not  to  meet,  or,  meeting,  hung  his  head  ; 
And  every  lass  forbore  at  thee  to  look, 


A  sly  old  fish,  too  cunning  for  tho  hook  ; 
And  now  at  sixty  that  pert  dame  to  see 
Of  all  thy  savings  mistress,  and  of  thee  ; 
Xnw  w'lU  the  lads,  remembering  insults  past, 
I        Vv  ,  It,  the  wise  one  in  the  trap  at  last ! ' 
<  II  !  fie  !  to  let  a  sprightly  jade 
.  )  x'd,  then  ask  thee  how  't  was  made, 
\  I   i       ,.     1  n;;  walk  around  nt  head  and  feet. 
To  sec  thy  nightly  comforts  all  complete  ; 
Then  waiting  seek  —  not  what  she  said  she  sought, 
And  bid  a  penny  for  her  master's  thought 
(A  thought  she  knew,  and  thou  couldst  not  send 

hence, 
Well  as  thou  lovcdst  them,  for  ton  thousand  pence) ; 
And  thus  with  some  bold  hint  she  would  retire. 
That  waked  the  idle  wish  and  stirred  tho  slumbering    ' 
Didst  thou  believe  thy  passion  all  so  laid,         [fire; 
That  thou  might'st  trifle  with  thy  wanton  maid, 
And  feel  amused  and  yet  not  feel  afraid  ? 
The  driest  fagot,  Nathan,  once  was  green, 
And,  laid  on  embers,  still  some  sap  is  seen  ; 
Oaks,  bald  like  thfi'  ahi.vo,  that  cease  to  grow. 
Feel  yet  the  wmrnili  i  i  ^|.tiii_'  and  bud  below  ; 
More  sensoli--  rli.u  ihni  i.i_'"t  un  the  fire, 
For  tliou  f.iiiM  I  ['■■■■].  iiiiii  \rt  wouldst  not  retire  ; 
Lc'S<  [ii'.v  i'lriit  ili.iii  living  tree?, — for  they 
Soiii-'  \  n.i!  -fn  tuih,  sume  living  fire,  display. 
But  iiiii.   ilKit  tii.l  t.i  wear  tho  life  itself  away. 
Even  iiuw  i  ;i.i.-  tbuu  to  tho  altar  come  ; 
Downcast  thou  wcrt,  and  conscious  of  thy  doom  : 
I  see  thee  glancing  on  that  shape  aside. 
With  blended  looks  of  jealousy  and  pride  ; 
But  growing  fear  has  long  the  pride  supprcst, 
And  but  one  tyrant  rankles  in  thy  breast ; 
Now  of  hor  love  a  second  pledge  appears. 
And  doubts  on  doubts  arise,  and  fears  on  fears  ; 
Vet  fear  defy,  and  be  of  courage  stout. 
Another  pledge  will  banish  every  doubt ; 
Thine  ago  advancing  as  thy  powers  retire,    [quire? 
Will  make  thee  sure  —  what  more  wouldst  thou  re- 


TOUNO     BCSDAX 


-A  STEADY 


Thus  with  example  sad  our  year  began, 
A  wanton  vixen  and  a  weary  man  ; 
'  But  had  this  tale  in  other  guise  been  told,' 
Young  let  tho  lover  be,  tho  lady  old, 
And  that  disparity  of  years  shall  prove 
No  bane  of  peace,  although  some  bar  to  love  : 
T  is  not  the  worst,  our  nuptial  tics  among, 
That  joins  the  ancient  bride  and  bridegroom  young; 
Young  wives,  like  changing  winds,  their  power  dis- 
By  shifting  points  and  varying  day  by  day  ;  [play, 


47 


RUKAL   POETRY. - 


Now  zephyrs  mild,  now  wliiiiwiiuls  in  tlieir  force, 
Tliey  sometimes  speed,  but  .iltcEi  llnv^n  t  mir  course 
And  much  experienced  .-l]'!!!!.!  iljat  |ii|.,t  I,,., 
Wlio  sails  with  them,  on  lil<  ■.  iriiii'i-iii..n>  sea  : 
But  lilie  a  trade-wind  id  the  aiieiuuL  dauiL-, 
Mild  to  your  wish,  and  every  day  the  same  ; 
Steady  as  time,  no  sudden  squalls  you  fear, 
But  set  full  sail  and  with  assurance  steer  ; 
Till  every  danger  in  your  way  be  past, 
And  then  she  gently,  mildly,  breathes  her  last ; 
Rich  you  arrive,  in  port  a  while  remain, 
And  for  a  second  venture  sail  again. 


For  this  blilhc  I'^iikiM  suutliward  made  his  way, 
And  left  the  la --.-  ..i,  ih,   I,;,,,!.-  ,,1'Tay; 
Him  to  a  neiglilniinu  ■■:,i'{r„  |..i  tune  sent ; 
Whom  we  beheld  at|aiiiiyl.y  euiiteut  : 
Patient  and  mild  he  sought  the  dame  to  please, 
Who  ruled  the  kitchen  and  who  bore  the  keys  ; 
Fair  Lucy  first,  the  laundry's  gi-ace  and  pride. 
With  smiles  and  gracious  looks,  her  fortune  tried  ; 
But  all  in  vain  she  praised  his  '  pawky  eyne,' 
Where  never  fondness  was  for  Lucy  seen  ; 
Him  the  mild  Susan,  boast  of  dairies,  loved. 
And  found  him  civil,  cautious,  and  unmoved  ; 
From  many  a  fragrant  simple  Catharine's  skill 
Drew  oil,  drew  essence  from  the  boiling  still  ; 
But  not  her  warmth,  nor  all  her  winning  ways. 
From  his  cool  phlegm  could  Donald's  spirit  raise  ; 
Of  beauty  heedless,  with  the  merry  mute, 
To  Mrs.  Dobson  he  preferred  his  suit ; 
There  proved  his  service,  there  addressed  his  vows. 
And  saw  her  mistress,  friend,  protectress,  spouse. 
A  butler  now,  he  thanks  his  powerful  bride. 
And,  like  her  keys,  keeps  constant  at  her  side. 

THE  COMPELLEn  WEDDING  ;  MISERY  FROM  SIN. 

Next  at  cur  altar  stood  a  luckless  pair. 
Brought  by  strong  passions  and  a  warrant  there  ; 
By  long  rent  cloak,  hung  loosely,  strove  the  bride 
From  every  eye  what  all  perceived  to  hide  ; 
While  the  boy-bridegroom,  shuffling  in  his  pace. 
Now  hid  a  while  and  then  exposed  his  face  ; 
As  shame  alternately  with  auger  strove 
The  brain,  confused  with  muddy  ale,  to  move  ; 
In  haste  and  stammering  he  performed  his  part. 
And  looked  the  rage  that  rankled  iu  his  heart 
(So  will  each  lover  inly  curse  his  fate. 
Too  soon  made  happy,  and  made  wise  too  late)  ; 
I  saw  his  features  take  a  savage  gloom. 
And  deeply  threaten  for  the  days  to  come  ; 
Low  spake  the  lass,  and  lisped  and  minced  the  while ; 
Looked  on  the  lad,  and  faintly  tried  to  smile  ; 
With  softened  speech  and  humbled  tone  she  strove 
To  stir  the  embers  of  departed  love  ; 
While  he,  a  tyrant,  frowning  walked  before, 
Felt  the  poor  purse,  and  sought  the  public  door. 
She  sadly  following  in  submission  went, 


And  saw  the  final  shilling  foully  spent ; 
Then  to  her  father's  hut  the  pair  withdrew. 
And  hade  to  love  and  comfort  long  adieu  ! ' — 
Ah  !  fly  temptation,  youth  ;  refrain  !  refrain 
I  preach  forever  ;  but  I  preach  in  vain  ! 


Two  summers  since,  I  saw  at  Lammas  fair 
The  sweetest  flower  that  ever  blossomed  there  ; 
When  Phebe  Dawson  gayly  crossed  the  green. 
In  haste  to  see,  and  happy  to  be  seen  ; 
Her  air,  her  manners,  all  who  saw  admired  ; 
Courteous  thou-h  coy,  and  gentle  though  retired  ; 
The  joy  of  ynuth  and  health  her  eyes  displayed, 
And  rase  (.f  Iirait  her  every  look  conveyed  ; 
-\  iiatiw   -I, ill  In  1- simple  robes  expressed, 
A-  u  nil  iiiitiihrrrl  elegance  she  dressed  ; 
l!n'  !a<ls  arnmel  admired  so  fair  a  sight. 
And  Phcbe  felt,  and  felt  she  gave,  delight. 
Admirers  soon  of  every  age  she  gained. 
Her  beauty  won  them,  and  her  worth  retained  ; 
Envy  itself  could  no  contempt  display  — 
They  wished  her  well,  whom  yet  they  wished  away; 
Correct  in  thought,  she  judged  a  servant's  place 
Preserved  a  rustic  beauty  from  disgrace  ; 
But  yet  on  Sunday  eve,  in  freedom's  hour. 
With  secret  joy  she  felt  that  beauty's  power  ; 
When  some  proud  bliss  upon  the  heart  would  steal. 
That,  poor  or  rich,  a  beauty  still  must  feel. 


At  length,  the  youth  ordained  to  move  her  breast 
Before  the  swains  with  bolder  spirit  pressed  ; 
With  looks  less  timid  made  his  passion  known, 
And  pleased  by  manners  most  unlike  her  own  ; 
Loud  though  in  love,  and  confident  though  young  ; 
Fierce  in  his  air,  and  voluble  of  tongue  ; 
By  trade  a  tailor,  though,  in  scorn  of  trade. 
He  served  the  squire,  and  brushed  the  coat  he  made; 
Yet  now,  would  Phebe  her  consent  afford. 
Her  slave  alone,  again  he  'd  mount  the  board  ; 
With  her  should  years  of  growing  love  be  spent, 
And  growing  wealth  :  —  she  sighed,  and  looked  con- 


THE   LOVERS'   STROLL. — TEMPTATION  YIELDED   TO. 

Now,  through  the  lane,  up  hill,  and  'cross  the 
Seen  but  by  few  and  blushing  to  be  seen —  [green, 
Dejected,  thoughtful,  anxious,  and  afraid,  — 
Led  by  the  lover,  walked  the  silent  maid  : 
Slow  through  the  meadows  roved  they,  many  a  mile. 
Toyed  by  each  bank  and  trifled  at  each  stile  ; 
Where,  as  he  painted  every  blissful  view. 
And  highly  colored  what  he  strongly  drew. 
The  pensive  damsel,  prone  to  tender  fears. 
Dimmed  the  false  prospect  with  prophetic  tears  : 
Thus  passed  the  allotted  hours,  till,  lingering  late, 
The  lover  loitered  at  the  master's  gate  ; 
There  he  pronounced  adieu  !  and  yet  would  stay, 
Till  chidden,  soothed,  entreated,  forced  away  ; 


AUTDMN  —  NOVEMBER. 


871 


Ho  would  of  coldness,  though  indulged,  complain, 
And  oft  retire  and  oft  return  again  ; 
When,  if  his  teasing  vexed  her  gentle  mind. 
The  grief  assumed  compelled  her  to  bo  kind  ! 
For  ho  would  proof  of  plighted  kindness  oravo, 
That  she  resented  first,  and  then  forgave. 
And  to  his  grief  and  penance  yielded  more 
Than  his  presumption  had  required  before  ; 
Ah  !  fly  temptation,  youth  ;  refrain,  refrain, 
Each  yielding  maid,  and  each  presuming  swain  ! 

MISEBADLE  BESrLT  OK   PUBBF.'S    HAHRUOB.  —  HER  KOBLOBS 


Lo!  now  with  red,  rent  cloak  and  bonnet  black. 
And  tora  green  gown,  loose  hanging  at  hor  back, 
One  who  an  infant  in  her  arm  sustains. 
And  seems  in  patience  striving  with  her  pains  ; 
Pinched  arc  her  looks,  as  one  who  pines  for  bread, 
Whose  cares  arc  growing,  and  whose  hopes  aro  fled ; 
Piilc  her  parched  lips,  lier  heavy  eyes  sunk  low. 
And  tears  unnoticed  from  their  channels  flow  ; 
Serene  her  manner,  till  some  sudden  pain 
Frets  the  meek  soul,  and  then  she 's  calm  again  ;  — 
Her  broken  pitcher  to  the  pool  she  takes. 
And  every  step  with  cautious  terror  makes  ; 
For  not  alone  that  infant  in  her  arms. 
But  nearer  cause,  maternal  fear,  alarms  ; 
With  water  burthened,  then  she  picks  her  way. 
Slowly  and  cautious  in  the  clinging  clay  ; 
Till  in  mid-green  she  trusts  a  place  unsound. 
And  deeply  plunges  in  the  adhesive  ground  ; 
From  whence  her  slender  foot  with  pain  she  takes. 
While  hope  the  mind  as  strength  the  frame  forsakes. 
For  when  so  full  the  cup  of  sorrow  grows. 
Add  but  a  drop,  it  instantly  o'erflows.  — 
And  now  hor  path,  but  not  her  peace,  she  gains. 
Safe  from  her  task,  but  shivering  with  hor  pains  ;  — 
Her  homo  she  reaches,  open  leaves  the  door, 
And,  placing  first  her  infant  on  the  floor. 
She  bares  her  bosom  to  the  wind,  and  sit5. 
And,  sobbing,  struggles  with  the  rising  fits  ; 
In  vain,  they  come,  she  feels  the  inflating  grief. 
That  shuts  the  swelling  bosom  from  relief  ; 
That  speaks  in  feeblo  cries  a  soul  distressed, 
Or  the  sad  laugh  that  cannot  be  repressed  ; 
The  neighbor-matron  leaves  her  wheel,  and  flies 
With  all  the  aid  her  poverty  supplies  ; 
Cnfecd,  the  calls  of  nature  she  obeys. 
Not  led  by  profit,  not  allured  by  praiso  ; 
And,  waiting  long,  till  these  contentions  cease. 
She  speaks  of  comfort,  and  departs  in  peace. 
Friend  of  distress  !  the  mourner  feels  thy  aid, 
She  cannot  pay  thee,  but  thou  wilt  bo  paid. 


rnEBK'S  HEARTLESS  Dl'SBASD. —  rLT 

But  who  this  child  of  weakness,  want,  and  care  7 
'T  is  Phebe  Dawson,  pride  of  Lammas  Fair  ; 
Who  took  her  lover  for  his  sparkling  eyes, 
Expressions  warm,  and  love-inspiring  lies  : 
Compassion  first  assailed  her  gentle  heart. 
For  all  his  suflering,  all  his  bosom's  smart : 


'And  then  his  prayers;  they  would  a  savage  m( 
And  win  the  coldest  of  the  sox  to  love  : ' 
But,  tth  !  too  soon  his  looks  success  declared. 
Too  late  her  loss  tho  marriage  rite  repaired  ; 
The  faithless  flatterer  then  his  vows  forgot, 
A  captious  tyrant  or  a  noisy  sot ; 
If  present,  railing,  till  ho  saw  her  pained  ; 
If  absent,  spending  what  their  labors  gained  ; 
Till  that  fair  form  in  want  and  sickness  pined. 
And  hope  and  comfort  fled  that  gentle  mind. 
Then  fly  temptation,  youth  ;  resist,  refrain. 
Nor  let  me  preach  forever  and  in  vain  ! 


Next  came  a  well-dressed  pair,  who  left  their 
coach. 
And  made  in  long  procession  slow  approach  : 
For,  this  gay  bride  had  many  a  female  friend. 
And  youths  were  there,  this  favored  youth  to  attend  : 
Silent,  nor  wanting  due  respect,  the  crowd 
Stood  humbly  round,  and  gratulation  bowed  ; 
But  not  that  silent  crowd,  in  wonder  fixed. 
Not  numerous  friends  who  praise  and  envy  mixed. 
Nor  nymphs  attending  near,  to  swell  the  pride 
Of  one  more  fair,  the  ever-smiling  bride  j 
Nor  that  gay  bride  adorned  with  every  grace, 
Nor  love  nor  joy  triumphant  in  her  face, 
Could  from  the  youth's  sad  signs  of  sorrow  chase  : 
Why  didst  thou  grieve  ?    Wealth,  pleasure,  freedom. 
Vexed  it  thy  soul,  that  freedom  to  resign?     [thine, 
Spake  scandal  truth  7     '  Thou  didst  not  then  intend 
So  soon  to  bring  thy  wooing  to  an  end  7 ' 
Or  was  it,  as  our  prating  rustics  say. 
To  end  as  soon,  but  in  a  diSerent  way  7 
'T  is  told  thy  Phyllis  is  a  skilful  dame, 
Who  played  uninjured  with  the  dangerous  flame  : 
That  while,  like  Lovelace,  thou  thy  coat  displayed 
And  hid  the  snare,  prepared  to  catch  the  maid, 
Thee  with  her  net  she  found  the  means  to  catch. 
And  at  the  amorous' see-saw  won  the  match  ;' 
Yet  others  tell,  the  captain  fixed  thy  doubt, 
lie  'd  call  thee  brother,  or  he  'd  call  thee  out :  — 
But  rest  the  motive  —  all  retreat  too  late, 
Joy  like  thy  bride's  should  on  thy  brow  have  sate  ; 
The  deed  had  then  appeared  thine  own  intent, 
A  glorious  day,  by  gracious  fortune  sent. 
In  each  revolving  year  to  be  in  triumph  spent. 
Then  in  few  weeks  that  cloudy  brow  had  been 
Without  a  wonder  or  a  whisper  seen  ; 
And  none  had  been  so  weak  as  to  inquire, 
'  Why  pouts  my  lady  7 '  or  '  why  frowns  tho  squire  7 ' 

TUB     BECISTEB    OF     NAMES;     VARlOfS    AlTO(;RAPns    HrllOR. 
:  APT  TO  PRI7.B  THE  'SHALL  ARTS.' 


TIIAS  TnEPEN.— V 

How  fair  these  i 


how  much  unlike  they  lo 
To  all  the  blurred  subscriptions  in  my  book  ; 
Tho  bridegroom's  letters  stand  in  row  above, 
Tapering,  yet  stout,  like  pine-trees  in  his  grovo  ; 

'  Clarissa,  vol.  vn.,  Lovelace's  Leitcr. 


372 


RURAL    POETRY. CRABBE. 


While  free  and  fine  the  bride's  appear  below, 
As  light  and  slender  as  her  jasmines  grow  ; 
Mark  now  in  what  confusion  stoop  or  stand 
The  crooked  scrolls  of  many  a  clownish  hand  ; 
Now  out,  now  in,  they  droop,  they  fall,  they  rise. 
Like  raw  recruits  drawn  forth  for  exercise  ; 
Ere  yet  reformed  and  modelled  by  the  drill. 
The  free-born  legs  stand  striding  as  they  will. 

Much  have  I  tried  to  guide  the  fist  along, 
But  still  the  blunderers  placed  their  blottings  wrong ; 
Behold  these  marks  uncouth  !  how  strange  that  men 
Who  guide  the  plough  should  fail  to  guide  the  pen ; 
For  half  a  mile,  the  furrows  even  lie  ; 
For  half  an  inch,  the  letters  stand  awry  ;  — 
Is  it  that,  strong  and  sturdy  in  the  field, 
They  scorn  the  arms  of  idle  men  to  wield  ; 
Or  give  that  hand  to  guide  the  goose-quill  tip, 
That  rules  a  team  and  brandishes  a  whip  ? 
The  lions  they,  whom  conscious  powers  forbid 
To  play  the  ape,  and  '  dandle  with  the  kid.' 

But  yet,  small  arts  have  charms  for  female  eyes  ; 
Our  rustic  nymphs  the  beau  and  scholar  prize  ; 
Unlettered    swains,    and    ploughmen   coarse,    they 

For  those  who  dress,  and  amorous  scrolls  indite. 

THE    FOOTMiS    ANO    THE    FABSIER  ;     SPBUCEXESS     DISTASCES 


For  Bridget  Dawdle  happier  days  had  been. 
Had  footman  Daniel  scorned  IiI-  imtuf  ^ircn  ; 
Or  when  he  came  an  idle  OMXi.niril.  il-.wn. 
Had  he  his  love  reserved  fui  l;i--  in  in\Mi  , 
To  Roger  Pluck  she  then  IkmI   [J,  ,1  m  .1  lin-  truth,  — 
A  sturdy,  sober,  kind,  unji'>li-lii  1  \    iirh  ; 
But  from  the  day,  that  fatal  -lay,  -In    ■]  i.  -I 
The  pride  of  Daniel,  Daniel  iva-  hn  piilr. 
In  all  his  dealings,  Hodge  was  jiut  and  true, 
But  coarse  his  doublet  was  and  i)atched  in  view. 
And  felt  his  stockings  were,  and  blacker  than  his 

shoe  ; 
While  Daniel's  linen  all  was  fine  and  fair,  — 
His  master  wore  it,  and  he  deigned  to  wear 
(To  wear  his  livery,  some  respect  might  prove  ; 
To  wear  his  linen,  must  be  sign  of  love) ; 
Blue  was  his  coat,  unsoiled  by  spot  or  stain  ; 
His  hose  were  silk,  his  shoes  of  Spanish  grain  ; 
A  silver  knot  his  breadth  of  shoulder  bore  ; 
A  diamond  buckle  blazed  his  breast  before  ; 
Diamond  he  swore  it  was,  and  showed  it  as  he  swore: 
Rings  on  his  fingers  shone  ;  his  milk-white  hand. 
Could  pick-tooth  case  and  box  for  snuflf  command  : 
And  thus,  with  clouded  cane,  a  fop  complete. 
He  stalked,  the  jest  and  glory  of  the  street : 
Joined  with  these  powers,  he  could  so  sweetly  sing, 
Talk  with  such  toss,  and  saunter  with  such  swing  ; 
Laugh  with  such  glee,  and  trifle  with  such  art. 
That  Bridget's  promise  failed  to  shield  her  heart. 

Roger,  meantime,  to  ease  his  amorous  cares. 
Fixed  his  full  mind  upon  his  farm's  affairs  ; 
Two  pigs,  a  cow,  and  wethers  half  a  score, 


Increased  his  stock,  and  still  he  looked  for  more  ; 

He  for  his  acres  few  so  duly  paid, 

Ihat  yet  more  acres  to  his  lot  were  laid  ; 

Till  our  chaste  nymphs  no  longer  felt  disdain. 

And  prudent  matrons  praised  the  frugal  swain  ; 

Who  thriving  well,  through  many  a  fruitful  year, 

Now  clothed  himself  anew,  and  acted  ( 


Just  then  poor  Bridget  from  her  friend  in  town 
Fled  in  pure  fear,  and  came  a  beggar  down  ; 
Trembling,  at  Roger's  door  she  knocked  for  bread, — 
Was  chidden  first,  next  pitied,  and  then  fed  ; 
Then  sat  at  Roger's  board,  then  shared  in  Rogers 
All  hope  of  marriage  lost  in  her  disgrace,         [bed : 
He  mourns  a  flame  revived,  and  she  a  love  of  lace. 


T;  ■  I      I  I        :.  .        .   [,  anil  mice  thedame: 

Aial  1' u'.i  ami  .-iiiijlu,  a.;  thty 'd  always  been. 
Children  from  wedlock  we  by  laws  restrain  ; 
Why  not  prevent  them  when  they  're  such  again  ? 
Why  not  forbid  the  doting  souls  to  prove 
The  indecent  fondling  of  preposterous  love  ? 
In  spite  of  prudence,  uncontrolled  by  shame. 
The  amorous  senior  woos  the  toothless  dame, 
Relating  idly,  at  the  closing  eve, 
Tlir  \  iiiithful  follies  he  disdains  to  leave  ; 
'I  ill  ynullilul  follies  wake  a  transient  fire, 
\\'hi  II  aim  in  arm  they  totter  and  retire. 

So  two  dried  sticks,  all  fled  the  vital  juice. 
When  rubbed  and  chafed,  their  latent  heat  produce ; 
All  in  one  part  unite  the  cheering  rays. 


weather, 
And  shake  their  leafless  heads,  and  drop  together. 

So  two  dead  limbs,  when  touched  by  Galvin's  wire. 
Move  with  new  life,  and  feel  awakened  fire  ; 
Quivering  a  while  their  flaccid  forms  remain. 
Then  turn  to  cold  torpidity  again. 


'  But  ever  frowns  your  hymen  ?    Man  and  maid. 
Are  all  repenting,  suffering,  or  betrayed  ?'  — 
Forbid  it,  love  ;  wo  have  our  couples  here, 
Who  hail  the  day,  in  each  revolving  year  : 
These  are  with  us,  as  in  the  world  around  ; 
They  are  not  frequent,  but  they  may  be  found. 

Our  farmers,  too,  what  though  they  fail  to  prove. 
In  hymen's  bonds,  the  tenderest  slaves  of  love,  — 
Nor,  like  those  pairs  whom  sentiment  unites. 
Feel  they  the  fervor  of  the  mind's  delights,  — 
Yet  coarsely  kind,  and  comfortably  gay. 
They  heap  the  bt  ard,  and  hail  the  happy  day  ; 


AUTUMN  —  NOVEMBER. 


373 


And  though  the  bride,  now  freed  from  sohoul,  admits 
Of  pride  implanted  there  some  transient  fits  ; 
Yet  soon  sho  oasts  her  girlish  flights  aside, 
And  in  substantial  blessings  rests  her  pride. 


No  more  sho  plays,  no  more  attempts  to  flt 
Hor  steps,  responsive  to  tho  squeaking  kit  j 
No  more  recites  her  French,  tho  hinds  among, 
But  chides  her  maidens  in  her  mother  tongue  ; 
Her  tambour-frame  she  leaves,  and  diet  spare. 
Plain-work  and  plenty  with  hor  house  to  share  ; 
Till,  all  her  varoish  lost,  in  few  short  years, 
In  all  her  worth,  the  farmer's  wife  appears. 

Vet  not  the  ancient  kind  ;  not  she  who  gave 
Her  soul  to  gain  —  a  mistress  and  a  slave  ; 
Who  not  to  sleep  allowed  tho  needful  time  ; 
To  whom  repose  was  loss,  and  sport  a  crime  ; 
Who  in  her  meanest  room  (and  all  were  mean), 
A  noisy  drudge,  from  morn  till  night  was  seen  ;  — 
But  she,  tho  daughter,  boasts  a  decent  room, 
Adorned  with  carpet  formed  in  AVillon's  loom  j 
Fair  prints  along  the  papered  wall  are  spread  ; 
There  Wcrter  sees  tho  sportive  children  fed, 
And  Charlotte  here  bewails  her  lover  dead. 

Bl-RAL  SOCIABlLrrr  DBSCRIBBD.  —  rKJIALB  ART  OF  TALKISO. 

'T  is  here,  assembled,  while  in  room  apart, 
Their  husbands,  drinking,  warm  the  opening  heart, 
Our  neighboring  dames,  on  festal  days,  unite 
With  tongues  more  fluent,  and  with  hearts  as  light ; 
Theirs  is  that  art,  which  English  wives  alone. 
And  wives  like  these,  assert  and  prove  their  own; — 
An  art  it  is,  where  each  at  once  attends 
To  all,  and  claims  attention  from  her  friends  ; 
When  they  engage  tho  tongue,  tho  eye,  the  ear. 
Reply  when  listening,  and  when  speaking  hear  : 
The  ready  converse  knows  no  dull  delays, 
'  But  double   are   the    pains,  and   double   be    tho 
praise.' ' 


A   PRCDENT,  HAFPT  MARRIAGE  ;  RRCBEN  AilD  RACHEL. 

Yet  not  to  those  alone  who  bear  command 
Heaven  gives  a  heart  to  hail  tho  marriage  band  ; 
Among  their  servants,  we  tho  pairs  can  show, 
Who  much  to  love  and  more  to  prudence  owe  : 
Reuben  and  Rachel,  though  as  fond  as  doves, 
Were  yet  discreet  and  cautious  in  their  loves  ; 
Nor  sought  their  bliss  at  Cupid's  wild  commands, 
Till  cool  reflection  bade  them  join  their  hands  ; 
When  both  were  poor,  they  thought  it  argued  ill 
Of  hasty  love  to  make  them  poorer  still  ; 
Year  after  year,  with  savings  long  laid  by, 
They  bought  the  future  dwelling's  full  supply  ; 
Her  frugal  fancy  culled  tho  smaller  ware, 
Tho  weightier  purchase  was  her  Reuben's  care  ; 
Together  then  their  last  year's  gain  they  threw, 
And,  lo  !  an  auctioned  bed,  with  curtains  neat  an 


Thus  both,  as  prudence  oounsollod,  wisely  stayed. 
And  cheerful  then  the  calls  of  love  obeyed  : 
What  if,  when  Rachel  gave  her  hand,  'twas  one 
Embrowned  by  Winter's  ice  and  Summer's  sun  ; 
What  if  in  Reuben's  hair  the  female  oyo 
Usurping  gray  among  tho  black  could  spy  ; 
What  if,  in  both,  life's  bloomy  flush  was  lost, 
And  their  full  Autumn  felt  the  mellowing  frost ; 
Yet  time,  who  blowed  the  rose  of  youth  away, 
Had  loft  tho  vigorous  stem  without  decay  ; 
Like  those  tall  elms  in  farmer  Frankford's  ground, 
They  '11  grow  no  more,  —  but  all  their  growth  is 

sound  ; 
By  time  confirmed  and  rooted  in  the  land,     [stand. 
Tho  storms  they  've  stood  still  promise  they  shall 


Nor  these  alone  (though  favored  more)  are  blest; 
In  time  tho  rash,  in  time  the  wretched,  rest  ; 
They  first  sad  years  of  want  and  anguish  know, 
Their  joys  como  seldom,  and  their  pains  pass  slow  ; 
In  health,  just  fed,  in  sickness,  just  relieved  ; 
By  hardships  harassed,  and  by  children  grieved  ; 
In  potty  quarrels  and  in  peevish  strife 
The  once  fond  couple  waste  the  spring  of  life  ; 
But,  when  to  age  mature  those  children  grown. 


(Uy  i..i,._,u  tU,.  .uWuoi,  an.l  llu,.,.  by  ,,nje). 
And,  calm  in  cures,  with  puticnce,  man  and  wife 
Agree  to  share  the  bitter-sweet  of  life 
(Life  that  has  sorrow  much  and  sorrovr's  cure, 
Where  they  who  most  enjoy  shall  much  endure); 
Their  rest,  their  labor,  duties,  sufferings,  proj-crs, 
Compose  the  soul,  and  fit  it  for  its  cares. 

THE  SOBER  REFLECTIOS  OF   MATTBE  RrBAL   LIFE.  —  SBRESITY 
IS   LOOKING   BACKWARD   OB   FOItWAItD. 

Their  graves  before  them,  and  their  griefs  behind, 
Have  each  a  medicine  for  the  rustic  mind  ; 
Nor  has  he  care  to  whom  his  wealth  shall  go, 
Or  who  shall  labor  with  his  spade  and  hoc  ; 
But  OS  he  lends  the  strength  that  yet  remains, 
And  some  dead  neighbor  on  his  bier  sustains 
(One  with  whom  oft  ho  whirled  tho  bounding  flail. 
Tossed  the  broad  quoit,  or  took  the  inspiring  ale): 
*For  me  (he  thinks)  shall  soon  this  deed  be  dune, 
A  few  steps  forward,  and  my  race  is  run  ; 
'T  was  first  in  trouble,  as  in  error  past, 
Dark  clouds  and  stormy  cares  whole  years  o'ercast, 
But  calm  my  setting  day,  and  sunshine  smiles  at  lost: 
My  vices  punished  and  my  follies  spent. 
Not  loth  to  die,  but  yet  to  livo  content, 
I  rest : '  —  then  casting  on  tho  gmvo  his  eye, 
Ue  gives  his  friend  a  tear,  and  heaves  himself  a 


RUKAL  POETRY. CRABBE. 


Last  on  my  I 

St  appears  a  m 

tchoflove 

Andonoofviit 

ir.,  -    h.i].pv  ii; 

V  it  prove  !  — 

Sir  Edward  A,. 

u.l;niglit, 

And  maidens  .t 

-Inm  his  sigh 

His  bailiff's  (I;m 

^llirl      -lllli    .1     It 

irh  his  taste, 

For  Fanny  Pric 

.  «a.  lonely  a> 

1  was  chaste  ; 

To  her  the  knight  with  gentle  looks  drew,near, 
And  timid  voice,  assumed  to  banish  fear.  — 

'  Hope  of  my  life,  dear  sovereign  of  my  breast, 
Which,  since  I  knew  thee,  knows  not  joy  nor  rest ; 
Know  thou  art  all  that  my  delighted  eyes, 
J\Iy  fondest  thoughts,  my  proudest  wishes,  prize  ; 
And  is  that  bosom  (what  on  earth  so  fair  '!) 
To  cradle  some  coarse  peasant's  sprawling  heir  ? 
To  be  that  pillow,  which  some  surly  swain 
May  treat  with  scorn,  and  agonize  with  pain  ? 
Art  thou,  sweet  maid,  a  ploughman's  wants  to  share. 
To  dread  his  insult,  to  support  his  care  ? 
To  hear  his  follies,  his  contempt  to  prove. 
And  (0,  the  torment !)  to  endure  his  love  ; 
Till  want,  and  deep  regret,  those  charms  destroy, 
That  time  would  spare,  for  rapture  to  enjoy  ? 

'  With  him,  in  varied  pains,  from  morn  till  night. 
Your  hours  shall  pass  ;   yourself  a  ruffian's  right  ; 
Your  softest  bed  shall  be  the  knotted  wool  ; 
Y'our  purest  drink,  the  waters  of  the  pool  ; 
Your  sweetest  food  will  but  your  life  sustain  ; 
And  your  best  pleasure  be  a  rest  from  pain ;   [abate. 
While  through  each  year,  as  health  and  strength 
Y'ou  '11  weep  your  woes,  and  wonder  at  your  fate  ; 
And  cry,  '*  Behold,  as  life's  last  cares  come  on, 
My  burthens  growing,  when  my  strength  is  gone." 
-      '  Now  turn  with  me,  and  all  the  young  desire, 
That  taste  can  form,  that  fancy  can  require  ; 
All  that  e,Yuites  enjoyment,  or  procures 


Wealth,  health,  respect,  delight,  and  love,  are  yours : 
Sparkling,  in  cups  of  gold,  your  wines  shall  flow, 
Grace  that  fair  hand,  in  that  dear  bosom  glow  ; 
Fruits  of  each  clime,  q,nd  flowers  through  all  the  year. 
Shall  on  your  walls  and  in  your  walks  appear  ; 
Where  all  beholdin;  -!i,ill  y. m-  ]  i:ii=p  repeat, 
Xo  fruit  so  temptiii-  it. sweet;  — 

The  softest  carpet-  ill        i:  Kill  lie. 

Pictures  of  happiist  li  n  -  -luill  in  i  i  your  eye, 
And  tallest  mirrors,  readiiug  to  the  floor, 
.Shall  show  you  all  the  object  I  adore  ; 
Who,  by  the  hands  of  wealth  and  fashion  dressed, 
By  shaves  attended  and  by  friends  caressed. 
Shall  move,  a  wonder,  through  the  public  ways. 
And  hear  the  whispers  of  adoring  praise. 

'  Y'our  female  friends,  though  gayest  of  the  gay, 
Shall  see  you  happ}',  and  shall,  sighing,  say, 
While  smothered  envy  rises  in  the  breast, 
'•  0,  that  we  lived  so  beauteous  and  so  blest !  '* 

'  Come,  then,  my  mistress  and  my  wife  :  —  for  she 
Who  trusts  my  honor  is  the  wife  for  me  ; 
Your  slave,  your  husband,  and  your  friend,  employ. 
In  search  of  pleasures  we  may  both  enjoy.' 

To  this  the  damsel,  meekly  firm,  replied  : 
*  My  mother  loved,  was  married,  toiled  and  died  : 
With  joys  she  'd  griefs,  had  troubles  in  her  course, 
But  not  one  grief  was  pointed  by  remorse  ; 
My  mind  is  fixed,  to  Heaven  I  resign. 
And  be  her  love,  her  life,  her  comforts,  mine.' 

Tyrants  have  wept;  and  those  with  hearts  of  steel, 
Who  caused  the  anguish  they  disdained  to  heal, 
Have  at  some  time  the  power  of  virtue  known, 
I  And  felt  another's  good  promote  their  own  : 
Our  knight,  relenting,  now  befriends  the  youth 
■Who  took  the  maid,  with  innocence  and  truth  ; 
And  finds  in  that  fair  deed  a  sacred  joy. 
That  will  not  perish,  and  that  cannot  cloy  ;  — 
A  living  joy,  that  shall  its  vigor  keep. 
When  beauty  all  decays,  and  all  the  passions  sleep. 


J    / 


(i^^iics   for   l!]oiicmiirr. 


HOOD'S  "AUTUJIN." 

I  SAW  old  Autumn  in  the  misty  morn 
Stand  shadowless  like  silence,  listening 
To  silence,  for  no  lonely  bird  would  sing 
Into  his  hollow  ear  from  woods  forlorn. 
Nor  lowly  hedge  nor  solitary  thorn  ;  — 
Shaking  his  languid  looks,  all  dewy  bright 
With  tangled  gossamer  that  fell  by  night. 
Pearling  his  coronet  of  golden  corn. 

Where  are  the  songs  of  Summer?  —  With  the  sun, 

Oping  the  dusky  eyelids  of  the  South, 

Till  shade  and  silence  waken  up  as  one. 

And  Morning  sings  with  a  warm,  odorous  mouth. 

Where  are  the  merry  birds  ?  —  Away,  away. 

On  panting  wings  through  the  inclement  skies. 

Lest  owls  should  prey 

Undazzled  at  noon-day, 
And  tear  with  horny  beak  their  lustrous  eyes. 

Where  are  the  blooms  of  Summer  ?  —  In  the  West, 
Blushing  their  last  to  the  last  sunny  hours. 
When  the  mild  Eve  by  sudden  Night  is  prest, 
Like  tearful  Proserpine,  snatched  from  her  flowers 

To  a  most  gloomy  breast. 
Where  is  the  pride  of  Summer,  —  the  green  prime,— 
The  many,  many  leaves  all  twii 
On  the  mossed  elm  ;  three  on  the  naked  limo 
Trembling,  —  and  one  upon  tho  old  oak  tree  ! 

Where  is  the  Dryad's  immortality  ? 
Gone  into  mournful  cypress  and  dark  yew. 
Or  wearing  the  long,  gloomy  Winter  through 

In  tho  smooth  holly's  green  eternity. 


The  squirrel  gloats  on  his  accomplished  hoard, 
Tho  ants  have   brimmed   their  garners  with  ripe 
And  honey-bees  have  stored  [grain, 

Tho  sweets  of  summer  in  their  luscious  cells  ; 
The  swallows  all  have  winged  across  tho  main  ; 
But  here  the  Autumn  melancholy  dwells, 

And  sighs  her  tearful  spells 
Amongst  the  sunless  shadows  of  the  plain. 
Alone,  olone. 
Upon  a  mossy  stone 
She  sits  and  reckons  up  tho  dead  and  gone. 
With  the  last  leaves  for  a  love-rosary. 
Whilst  all  the  withered  world  looks  drearily, 
Like  a  dim  picture  of  the  drowned  past 

In  tho  hushed  mind's  mysterious  far  away. 
Doubtful  what  ghostly  thing  will  steal  the  lost 
Into  that  distance,  gray  upon  the  gray. 


-Three 


0  go  and  sit  with  her,  and  bo  o'ershaded 

Under  the  languid  downfall  of  her  hair  : 

She  wears  a  coronal  of  flowers  faded 

Upon  her  forehead,  and  a  face  of  care  ;  — 

There  is  enough  of  withered  everywhere 

To  make  her  bower,  —  and  enough  of  gloom  ; 

There  Is  enough  of  sadness  to  invite 

If  only  for  the  rose  that  died,  —  whose  doom 

Is  beauty's,  — she  that  with  tho  living  bloom 

Of  conscious  cheeks  most  beautifies  the  light  ;  - 

There  is  enough  of  sorrowing,  and  quite 

Enough  of  bitter  fruits  the  earth  doth  bear,  — 

Enough  of  chilly  droppings  for  her  bowl  ; 

Enough  of  fear  and  shadowy  despair, 

To  frame  her  cloudy  prison  for  the  soul ! 


HERRICK'S  "  FARMER." 

Sweet  country  life,  to  such  unknown. 
Whoso  lives  are  others',  not  their  own  ! 
But,  serving  courts  and  cities,  be 
Less  happy,  less  enjoying  thee. 
Thou  ncvi-v  pIi>uglR-d  the  ocean's  foam. 
To  seek  ;mi.|  lMi„-r..n_'l.  | ..i.prr  humc  ; 

Nortn    11p'    ..:     •'    ll:     ln'l    .l"->    r^r.r. 

To  brill,-  I, .hi  ll iIm   -.:.,.■'.,.,{  clove; 

Nor,  H-Uh  till.  1,...  ,,1  tlo  l.ncaic--t, 

Bring'st  home  tho  ingot  from  tho  West. 

No  ;  thy  ambition's  master-piece 

Flies  no  thought  higher  than  a  fleece  ; 

Or  how  to  pay  thy  hinds,  and  clear 

All  scores,  and  so  to  end  tho  year  ; 

But  walk'st  about  thy  own  dear  grounds. 

Not  craving  others'  larger  bounds  ; 

For  well  thou  know'st  't  is  not  the  extent 

Of  land  makes  life,  but  sweet  content. 

When  now  the  cock,  the  ploughman's  horn. 

Calls  for  tho  lily-wristcd  morn. 

Then  to  thy  corn-fields  thou  dost  go, 

Which,  though  well  soiled,  yet  thou  dost  know 

That  the  best  compost  for  the  lands 

Is  tho  wis6  master's  feet  and  hands. 

There,  at  the  plough,  thou  find'st  thy  team, 

With  a  hind  whistling  there  to  them  ; 

And  cheers  them  up  by  singing  how 

The  kingdom's  portion  is  the  plough. 

This  done,  then  to  the  enamelled  meads 

Thou  goest ;  and  as  thy  foot  there  treads, 

Thou  secst  a  present  godlike  power 

Imprinted  in  each  herb  and  flower  ; 


376 


RURAL    POETRY. HERRICK  ■ 


And  smell'st  the  breath  of  great-eyed  kine, 
Sweet  as  the  blossoms  of  the  vine. 
Here  thou  behold'st  thy  large,  sleek  neat, 
Unto  the  dewlaps  up  in  meat ; 
And  as  thou  look'st,  the  wanton  steer, 
The  heifer,  cow,  and  ox,  draw  near. 
To  make  a  pleasing  pastime  there. 
These  seen,  thou  goest  to  view  the  flocks 
Of  sheep,  safe  from  the  wolf  and  fox  ; 
And  find'st  their  bellies  there  as  full 
Of  short,  sweet  grass,  as  backs  with  wool  ; 
And  leav'st  them,  as  they  feed  and  fill, 
A  shepherd  piping  on  the  hill. 
For  sports,  for  pageantry,  and  plays. 
Thou  hast  thy  eves  and  holidays. 
On  which  the  young  men  and  maids  meet 
To  exercise  their  dancing  feet  ; 
Tripping  the  comely  country  round, 
With  daffodils  and  daisies  crowned. 
Thy  wakes,  thy  quintels,  here  thou  hast. 
Thy  Maypoles,  too,  with  garlands  graced  ; 
Thy  morrris-dance,  thy  Whitsun-ale, 
Thy  shearing-feast,  which  never  fail  ; 
Thy  harvest  home,  thy  wassail-bowl, 
That's  tossed  up  after  fox-i'-th'-hole  ; 
Thy  mummeries,  thy  twelfth-night  kings 
And  queens,  thy  Christmas  revellings  ; 
Thy  nut-brown  mirth,  thy  russet  wit, 
And  no  man  pays  too  dear  for  it. 
To  these  thou  hast  thy  time  to  go. 
And  trace  the  hare  in  treacherous  snow  ; 
Thy  witty  wiles  to  draw,  and  get 


The  lark  into  the  trammel  net  ; ' 

Thou  hast  thy  cock-rod  and  thy  glade. 

To  take  the  precious  pheasant  made  ; 

The  lime-twigs,  snares,  and  pitfalls,  then. 

To  catch  the  pilfering  birds,  not  men. 

0,  happy  life  !  if  thus  their  good 

The  husbandmen  but  understood  ! 

TVho  all  the  day  themselves  do  please. 

And  younglings,  with  such  sports  as  these  ; 

And,  lying  down,  have  naught  to  affright 

Sweet  sleep,  that  makes  more  short  the  night. 


BRYANT'S  "SONNET  FOR  NOVEMBER." 

Yet  one  smile  more,  departing  distant  sun  ! 

One  mellow  smile  through  the  soft  vapory  air. 
Ere  o'er  the  frozen  earth  the  loud  winds  run. 

Or  snows  are  sifted  o'er  the  meadows  bare. 
One  smile  on  the  brown  hills  and  naked  trees. 

And  the  dark  rocks  whose  summer  wreaths  are 

And  the  blue  Gentian-flower,  that  in  the  breeze 
Nods  lonely,  of  her  beauteous  race  the  last. 

Yet  a  few  sunny  days,  in  which  the  bee 

Shall  murmur  by  the  hedge  that  skirts  the  way. 

The  cricket  chirp  upon  the  russet  lea. 
And  man  delight  to  linger  in  thy  ray. 

Yet  one  rich  smile,  and  we  will  try  to  bear       [air. 

The  piercing  winter  frost,  and  winds,  and  darkened 


(isM- 


'^^.UiKips's    "Ciller/ 


BOOK  I.  ' 

lire  SCBJBCT  i    THB  SOIL,  CCLIl-RS  AND  C3B  OP  IDE  APPLE. 

What  soil  the  apple  loves,  what  oaro  is  duo 
To  orchats,  timeliest  when  to  press  the  fruits. 
Thy  gift,  Pomona,  in  Miltonian  verse 
Adventurous  I  presume  to  sing  ;  of  verso  I 

Nor  skilled,  nor  studious  :  but  my  native  soil 
Invites  me,  and  the  themo  as  yet  unsung. 

niV0CATIO.V  TO  TOB    LADIES  ASD  OESTLEMB> 

Ye  Ariconian  knights,  and  fairest  dames. 
To  whom  propitious  Heaven  these  blessings  grants, 
Attend  my  lays  ;  nor  hence  disdain  to  learn. 
How  Nature's  gifts  may  be  improved  by  art. 


MR.  IIOSTTS. 

And  thou,  0  Mostyn,  whoso  benevolence. 
And  candor,  oft  experienced,  me  vouchsafed 
To  knit  in  friendship,  growing  still  with  years, 
Accept  this  pledge  of  gratitude  and  love. 
May  it  a  lasting  monument  remain 
Of  dear  respect ;  that,  when  this  body  frail 
Is  mouldered  into  dust,  and  I  become 
As  I  had  never  been,  late  times  may  know 
I  once  was  blest  in  such  a  matchless  friend. 

TOE  PROPER  ASPECT  FOB  AN  ORCHARD  ;  OPES  TO  THE  WEST, 
WITH  HILLS  ON  TUB  NORTH. 

Whoe'er  expects  his  laboring  trees  should  bend 
With  fruitage,  and  a  kindly  harvest  yield, 
Be  this  his  first  concern  ;  to  find  a  tract 
Impervious  to  the  winds,  begirt  with  hills. 
That  intercept  the  Hyperborean  blasts 
Tempestuous,  and  cold  Eurus"  nipping  force. 
Noxious  to  feeble  buds  :  but  to  the  west 
Let  him  free  entrance  grant,  let  zephyrs  bland 
Administer  their  tepid  genial  airs  ; 
Naught  fear  he  from  the  west,  whose  gentle  warmth 
Discloses  well  the  earth's  all-teeming  womb. 
Invigorating  tender  seeds  ;  whose  breath 
Nurtures  the  orange,  and  the  citron  groves, 
Hesperian  fruits,  and  wafts  their  odors  sweet 
Wide  through  the  air,  and  distant  shores  perfumes. 
Nor  only  do  the  hills  exclude  the  winds  :    [showers 
But,   when   the    blackening  clouds   in   sprinkling 
Distil,  from  the  high  summits  down  the  rain 
Runs  trickling  ;  with  the  fertile  moisture  cheered, 
The  orchards  smile  ;  joyous  the  farmers  see 
Their  thriving  plants,  and  bless  the  heavenly  dew. 

SOILS    IMPROPER  FOB  AN  ORCH 


UIRT,  OR  BLACE, 


Next,  let  the  planter,  with  discretion  meet. 
The  force  and  genius  of  each  soil  explore  ; 


To  what  adapted,  what  it  shuns  averse  : 
Without  this  necessary  care,  in  vain 
He  hopes  an  apple-vintage,  and  invokes 
Pomona's  aid  in  vain.     The  miry  fields, 
Rejoicing  in  rich  mould,  most  ample  fruit 
Of  beauteous  form  produce  ;  pleasing  to  sight, 
But  to  the  tongue  inelegant  and  flat. 
So  Nature  has  decreed  ;  so,  oft  we  see 
Men  passing  fair,  in  outward  lineaments 
Elaborate  ;  less,  inwardly,  exact. 
Nor  from  the  sable  ground  expect  success, 
Nor  from  cretaceous,  stubborn  and  jejune  : 
The  must,  of  pallid  hue,  declares  the  soil 
Devoid  of  spirit ;  wretched  he,  that  quafls 
Such  wheyiah  liquors  ;  oft  with  colic  pangs, 
With  pungent  colic  pangs  distressed,  he  '11  roar. 
And  toss,  and  turn,  and  curse   the  unwholesome 
draught. 

SOIL  PROPER  FOR  ORCHARDS  ;  WHERE  BYE  GROWS  WELL  *, 
SUCH  SOILS  A3  KKSTCUUBCH,  SDTTON-ACRES,  ETC. — 
BTHELBERT  AND   OPFA. 

But,  farmer,  look,  where  full-eared  sheaves  of  rye 
Grow  wavy  on  the  tilth,  that  soil  select 
For  apples  ;  thence  thy  industry  shall  gain 
Ten-fold  reward  ;  thy  garners,  thence  with  store 
Surcharged,  shall  burst;  thy  press  with  purest  juioo 
Shall  flow,  which,  in  revolving  years,  may  try 
Thy  feeble  feet,  and  bind  thy  faltering  tongue. 
Such  is  the  Kentohurch,  such  Dantzcyan  ground, 
Such  thine,  0  learned  Brome,  and  Capel  such, 
WillisianBurlton,  much-loved  Oeers  his  .Marsh, 
And  Sutton-acres,  drenched  with  regal  blood 
Of  Ethelbert,  when  to  the  unhallowed  feast 
Of  Mercian  Offa  he  invited  came, 
To  treat  of  spousals  :  long  connubial  joys 
He  promised  to  himself,  allured  by  fair 
Elfrida's  beauty  ;  but  deluded  died 
In  height  of  hopes  — 0  !  hardest  fate,  to  fall 
By  show  of  friendship,  and  pretended  love  ! 

ALLVSION  TO  THE  SLIDI.SO  OF  MABCLET  HILL. 

I  nor  advise,  nor  reprehend  the  choice 
Of  Marcley  Hill  ;  the  apple  nowhere  finds 
A  kinder  mould  :  yet 't  is  unsafe  to  trust 
Deceitful  ground  :  who  knows  but  that,  once  more, 
This  mount  may  journey,  and,  his  present  site 
Forsaking,  to  thy  neighbors'  bounds  transfer 
The  goodly  plants,  affording  matter  strange 
For  law  debates?     If,  therefore,  thou  incline 
To  deck  this  rise  with  fruits  of  various  tastes. 
Fail  not  by  frequent  vows  to  implore  success  ; 
Thus  piteous  Heaven  may  fix  the  wandering  globe. 


378 


RURAL    POETRY. PHILIPS. 


CLAYEY  AND  GRAVELLY  SOILS  MAY  B 

But  if  (for  Nature  doth  not  share  alike 
Her  gifts)  an  happy  soil  should  bo  withheld  ; 
If  a  penurious  clay  should  be  thy  lot. 
Or  rough  unwieldy  earth,  nor  to  the  plough, 
Nor  to  the  cattle  kind,  with  sandy  stones 
And  gravel  o'er-abounding,  think  it  not 
Beneath  thy  toil  ;  the  sturdy  pear-tree  here 
Will  rise  luxuriant,  and  with  toughest  root 
Pierce  the  obstructing  grit,  and  restive  marl. 


GROW  PEARS,   j  Perceive  his  influence  dire  ;  sweltering  they  run 


Thus  naught  is  useless  made  ;  nor  is  there  land, 
But  what,  or  of  itself,  or  else  compelled, 
Affords  advantage.     On  the  barren  heath 
The  shepherd  tends  his  flock,  that  daily  crop 
Their  verdant  dinner  from  the  mossy  turf, 
Sufficient  ;  after  them  the  cackling  goose, 
Close  grazer,  finds  wherewith  to  ease  her  want. 
What  should  I  more?     Ev'n  on  the  cliSy  height 
Of  Penmenmaur,  and  that  cloud-piercing  hill, 
Plinlimmon,  from  afar  the  traveller  kens. 
Astonished,  how  the  goats  their  shrubby  browze 
Gnaw  pendent  ;  nor  untrembling  canst  thou  see 
How  from  a  scraggy  rock,  whose  prominence 
Half  overshades  the  ocean,  hardy  men, 
Fearless  of  rending  winds,  and  dashing  waves. 
Cut  samphire,  to  excite  the  squeamish  gust 
Of  pampered  luxury.     Then,  let  thy  ground 
Not  lie  unlabored  ;  if  the  richest  stem 
Refuse  to  thrive,  yet  who  would  doubt  to  plant 
Somewhat,  that  may  to  human  use  redound, 
And  penury,  the  worst  of  ills,  remove  ? 


There  are,  who,  fondly  studious  of  i 
Rich  foreign  mould  on  their  ill-natured  land 
Induce  laborious,  and  with  fattening  muck 
Besmear  the  roots  ;  in  vain  !  the  nursling  grove 
Seems  fair  a  while,  cherished  with  foster  earth  : 
But,  when  the  alien  compost  is  exhaust. 
Its  native  poverty  again  prevails. 


Tho'  this  art  fails,  despond  not  ;   little  pains, 
In  a  due  hour  employed,  great  profit  yield. 
The  industrious,  when  the  sun  in  Leo  rides, 
And  darts  his  sultriest  beams,  portending  drought, 
Forgets  not  at  the  foot  of  every  plant 
To  sink  a  circling  trench,  and  daily  pour 
A  just  supply  of  alimental  streams. 
Exhausted  sap  recruiting  ;  else,  false  hopes 
He  cherishes,  nor  will  his  fruit  expect 
The  autumnal  season,  but  in  Summer's  pride. 
When  other  orchards  smile,  abortive  fail. 


Thus  the  great  light  of  heaven,  that  in  his  course 
Surveys  and  quickens  all  things,  often  proves 
Noxious  to  planted  fields,  and  often  men 


To  grots,  and  caves,  and  the  cool  umbrage  seek 

Of  woven  arborets,  and  oft  the  rills 

Still  streaming  fresh  revisit,  to  allay 

Thirst,  inextinguishable  :  but  if  the  Spring 

Preceding  should  be  destitute  of  rain. 

Or  blast  septentrional  with  brushing  wings 

Sweep  up  the  smoky  mists,  and  vapors  damp. 

Then  woe  to  mortals  !  Titan  then  exerts 

His  heat  intense,  and  on  our  vitals  preys  ; 

Then  maladies  of  various  kinds,  and  names 

Unknown,  malignant  fevers,  and  that  foe 

To  blooming  beauty,  which  imprints  the  face 

Of  fairest  nymph,  and  checks  our  growing  love. 

Reign  far  and  near  ;  grim  death,  in  different  shape 

Depopulates  the  nations  ;  thousands  fall 

His  victims  ;  youths,  and  virgins,  in  their  flower, 

Reluctant  die,  and  sighing  leave  their  loves 

Unfinished,  by  infectious  Heaven  destroyed. 

TRIBUTE  TO  MISS  WIXCHCOMB. 

Such  heats  prevailed,  when  fair  Eliza,  last 
Of  Winehcomb's   name  (next  thee   in  blood,,  ar 

0  fairest  St.John  !)  left  this  toilsome  world 
In  beauty's  prime,  and  saddened  all  the  year  : 
Nor  could  her  virtues,  nor  repeated  vows 
Of  thousand  lovers,  the  relentless  hand 
Of  death  arrest ;  she  with  the  vulgar  fell, 
Only  distinguished  by  this  humble  verse. 


But  if  it  please  the  sun's  intemperate  force 
To  know,  attend  ;  whilst  I  of  ancient  fame 
The  annals  trace,  and  image  to  thy  mind 
How  our  forefathers  (luckless  men  !),  ingulft 
By  the  wide  yawning  earth,  to  Stygian  shades 
Went  quick,  in  one  sad  sepulchre  enclosed. 

In  elder  days,  ere  yet  the  Roman  bands, 
Victorious,  this  our  other  world  subdued, 
A  spacious  city  stood,  with  firmest  walls 
Sure  mounded,  and  with  numerous  turrets  crowned, 
Aerial  spires,  and  citadels,  the  seat 
Of  kings,  and  heroes  resolute  in  war, 
Famed  Ariconium  ;  uncontrolled,  and  free. 
Till  all-subduing  Latian  arms  prevailed. 
Then  also,  though  to  foreign  yoke  submiss, 
She  undemolished  stood,  and  even  till  now 
Perhaps  had  stood,  of  ancient  British  art 
A  pleasing  monument,  not  less  admired 
Than  what  from  Attic  or  Etruscan  hands 
Arose  ;  had  not  the  heavenly  powers  averse 
Decreed  her  final  doom. 


For  now  the  fields 
Labored  with  thirst,  Aquarius  had  not  shed 
His  wonted  showers,  and  Sirius  parched  with  heat 
Solstitial  the  green  herb  :  hence  'gan  relax 
The  ground's  contexture,  hence  Tartarean  dregs, 


AUTUMN  —  NOVEMBER. 


379 


Sulphur,  and  nitrous  spumo,  enkindling  iioroo, 
Bellowed  within  their  darksome  caves,  by  far 
More  dismal  than  the  loud-disploded  roar 
Of  brazen  enginery,  that  ceaseless  storm 
The  bastion  of  a  well-built  city,  deemed 
Impregnable  :  th'  infernal  winds,  till  now 
Closely  imprisoned,  by  Titanian  warmth, 
Dilating,  and  with  unctuous  vapors  fed,     [strength 
Disdained    their    narrow    colls ;    and,    their    full 
Collecting,  from  beneath  the  solid  mass 
Upheaved,  and  all  her  castles  rooted  deep 
Shook  from  their  lowest  scat  ;  old  Vaga*s  stream. 
Forced  by  the  sudden  shock,  her  wonted  track 
Forsook,  and  drew  her  humid  train  aslope, 
Crankling  her  banks  :  and  now  the  lowering  sky. 
And  baleful  lightning,  and  the  thunder,  voice 
Of  angry  gods,  that  rattled  solemn,  dismayed 
The  sinking  hearts  of  men. 


riTIZENS.  —  BARTHQUAKS. 

Where  should  they  turn 
Distressed  ?  Whence  seek  for  aid  ?  when  from  below 
Uell  threatens,  and  even  fate  supreme  gives  signs 
Of  wrath  and  desolation  ?     Vain  wore  vows. 
And  plaints,  and  suppliant  hands,  to  Heaven  erect ! 
Yet  some  to  fanes  repaired,  and  humble  rites 
Performed  to  Thor,  and  Woden,  fabled  gods. 
Who  with  their  votaries  in  one  ruin  shared,  [mood. 
Crushed,   and    overwhelmed.      Others,   in    frantic 
Hun  bowling  through  the  streets,  their  hideous  yells 
Rend  the  dark  welkin  ;  horror  stalks  around, 
Wild-staring,  and,  Iiis  sad  concomitant. 
Despair,  of  abject  look  :  at  every  gate 
The  thronging  populace  with  hasty  strides 
Press  furious,  and,  too  eager  of  escape. 
Obstruct  the  easy  way  ;  the  rocking  town 
Supplants  their  footsteps  ;   to  and  fro  they  reel 
Astonished,  as  o'er-chargod  with  wine  ;  when,  lo  ! 
The  ground  adust  her  riven  mouth  disparts. 
Horrible  chasm  ;  profound  !  with  swift  descent 
Old  Ariconium  sinks,  and  all  her  tribes. 
Heroes,  and  senators,  down  to  the  realms 
Of  endless  night.    Meanwhile,  the  loosened  winds, 
Infuriate,  molten  rocks  and  flaming  globes 
Hurled  high  above  the  clouds  ;  till,  all  their  force 
Consumed,  her  ravenous  jaws  th'  earth  satiate  closed. 

SOLE  BEMAISS  OF  ARICONim  ;  NAME,  COINS,  CR.\S,  BONES. 

Thus  this  fair  city  fell,  of  which  the  name 
Survives  alone  ;  nor  is  there  found  a  mark. 
Whereby  the  curious  passenger  may  learn 
Her  ample  site,  save  coins,  and  mouldering  urns. 
And  huge  unwieldy  bones,  lasting  remains 
Of  that  gigantic  race  ;  which,  as  he  breaks 
The  clotted  glebe,  the  ploughman  haply  finds. 
Appalled.     Upon  that  treacherous  tract  of  land 
She  wbilome  stood  j  now  Ceres,  in  her  prime. 
Smiles  fertile,  and,  with  ruddiest  freight  bedeckt, 
The  applc-trec,  by  our  fore-fathers'  blood 
Improved,  that  now  recalls  the  devious  Muse, 
Urging  her  destined  labors  to  pursue. 


LOVKS  AXD  AVBBSIONS  nnirEEX  pLAxn. - 
TUB  IVT  AMD  COLBWORT,  HOT  LOVBS  TOI 
LOVES    THB    LBBK,    TUB    PIO,  THE    RUB,  . 


The  prudent  will  observe  what  passions  reign 
In  various  plants  (for  not  to  man  alone. 
But  all  the  wide  creation,  Knturo  gave 
Love,  and  aversion)  :  everlasting  hate 
The  vine  to  ivy  bears,  nor  less  abhors 
The  colowort's  rankness  ;  but,  with  amorous  twine. 
Clasps  the  tall  elm  :  the  Pa.<stan  rose  unfolds 
Her  bud,  more  lovely,  near  the  fetid  leek 
(Crest  of  stout  Britons),  and  enhances  thence 
The  i)rice  of  her  celestial  scent :  the  gourd, 
And  thirsty  cucumber,  when  they  perceive 
The  approaching  olive,  with  resentment  fly 
Her  fatty  fibres,  and  with  tendrils  creep 
Diverse,  detesting  contact  ;    whilst  the  fig 
Contemns  not  rue,  nor  sago's  humble  leaf, 
Close  neighboring  :  the  Herefordian  plant 
Caresses  freely  the  contiguous  peach. 
Hazel,  and  weight-resisting  palm,  and  likes 
T  approach  the  quince,  and  th'  elder's  pithy  stem  ; 
Uneasy,  seated  by  funereal  yew. 
Or  walnut  (whose  malignant  touch  impairs 
All  generous  fraits),  or  near  the  bitter  dews 
Of  cherries.     Therefore,  weigh  the  habits  well 
Of  plants,  how  they  associate  best,  nor  let 
111  neighborhood  corrupt  thy  hopeful  grass. 


Wouldst  thou  thy 
froth  ? 
Respect  thy  orchats 
Spontaneous  .ill  ,, 
Let  art  c(.rr..t  ili\  i 
A  scion  nurily  ■  > 
A  way  into  tliu  cuil> 
By  wedges,  and  wit) 
Enclose  the  foster  t\ 
Refuse  with  thy  owi 
The  binding  clay  :  < 


1  generous  juicc  should 


.ck.,  i;lu.,.,-ni.,iij;ht  grail 
the  living  wound 


hands  around  to  spread 
re  long  their  dilTering  veins 
Unite,  and  kindly  nourishment  convey 
To  the  new  pupil ;  now  ho  shoots  his  arms   [trunk. 
With  quickest  growth  ;    now   shake   the   teeming 
Down  rain  th'  impurpled  balls,  ambrosial  fruit. 

REASONS  WHY  A  CRAR-STOCK  IS  PRBrBRARLE. 

Whether  the  wilding's  fibres  are  contrived 
To  draw  th'  earth's  purest  spirit,  and  resist 
Its  feculence,  which  in  more  porous  stocks 
Of  ciiler-pIants  finds  pa.«sagc  free,  or  else 
The  native  verjuice  of  the  crab,  derived 
Through  th'  infixed  gralf,  a  grateful  mi.xture  forms 
Of  tart  and  sweet  ;  whatever  be  tlio  cause. 
This  doubtful  progeny  by  nicest  tastes 
E.vpected  best  acecptanee  finds,  and  pays 
Largest  revenues  to  the  orehat-Iord. 

(JDINCB-STOCKS  ANn  8L0S-ST0CBS.  —  IN-EVLKO. 

Some  think  the  quince  and  apple  w< 
In  happy  union  ;  others  fitter  deem 


RURAL   POETRY.  —  PHILIPS. 


The  sloe-stem  bearing  sylvan  plums  austere,     [loss 

Who  knows  but  both  may  thrive  ?     Howe'er,  what 

To  try  the  powers  of  both,  and  search  how  far 

Two  different  natures  may  concur  to  mix 

In  close  embraces,  and  strange  offspring  bear  ? 

Thou 'It  find  that  plants  will  frequent  changes  try, 

Undamaged,  and  their  marriageable  arms 

Conjoin  with  others.     So  Silurian  plants 

Admit  the  peach's  odoriferous  globe. 

And  pears  of  sundry  forms  ;  at  different  times 

Adopted  plums  will  alien  branches  grace  ; 

And  men  have  gathered  from  the  hawthorn's  branch 

Large  medlars,  imitating  regal  crowns. 

MONTHLY  FRCriTS.  —  VIBGIL  : 


Nor  is  it  hard  to  beautify  each  mouth 
With  files  of  parti-colored  fruits,  that  please     . 
The  tongue  and  view,  at  once.     So  Maro's  muse, 
Thrice  sacred  muse  !  commodious  precepts  gives 
Instructive  to  the  swains,  not  wholly  bent 
On  what  is  gainful  :  sometimes  she  diverts 
From  solid  counsels,  shows  the  force  of  love 
In  savage  beasts  ;  how  virgin  face  divine     [waA'es, 
Attracts   the    hapless   youth    through    storms,  and 
Alone,  in  deep  of  night  :  then  she  describes 
The  Scyllii;in  uintn-,  imi-  di-Wain.-  h,  sing 
How  iiuH.r  ^inuH'i  i!iK  iM.ir  i;i|.h;r;in  race 

Mimic  l.ri-k  <V|,.|-  ,Mtl,  hmk-'  ] liictwild; 

Sloes  puuiulLM-l,  hipri,  and  tei;rvi.-i'  harshest  juice. 


Let  sage  experience  teach  thee  all  the  arts 
Of  grafting,  and  in-eying  ;   when  to  lop 
The  flowing  branches  ;  what  trees  answer  best 
From  root  or  kernel  :  she  will  best  the  hours 
Of  harvest  and  seed-time  declare  ;  by  her 
The  different  qualities  of  things  were  found. 
And  secret  motions  ;  how  with  heavy  bulk 
Volatile  hermes,  fluid  and  unmoist. 
Mounts  on  the  wings  of  air  ;  to  her  we  owe 
The  Indian  weed,  unknown  to  ancient  times, 
Nature's  choice  gift,  whose  acrimonious  fume 
Extracts  superfluous  juices,  and  refines 
The  blood  distempered  from  its  noxious  salts  ; 
Friend  to  the  spirits,  which  with  vapors  bland 
It  gently  mitigates,  companion  fit 
Of  pleasantry  and  wine  ;   nor  to  the  bards 
Unfriendly,  when  they  to  the  vocal  shell 
Warble  melodious  their  well-labored  songs. 

THE  WONDERS   OF  THE  MICROSCOPE.  —  THE  FORMS  OF  Pl.i 


She  found  the  polished  glass,  whose  small  c 
Enlarges  to  ten  millions  of  degrees 
The  mite,  invisible  else,  of  nature's  hand 
Least  animal  :  and  shows  what  laws  of  life 
The  cheese -inhabitants  observe,  and  how 
Fabric  their  mansions  in  the  hardened  milk, 
Wonderful  artists  !     But  the  hidden  ways 


Of  Nature  wouldst  thou  know  ?  how  first  she  frames 
All  things  in  miniature  ?  thy  specular  orb 
Apply  to  well-dissected  kernels  ;  lo  ! 
Strange  forms  arise,  m  ekch  a  little  plant 
Unfolds  its  boughs  :  observe  the  slender  threads 
Of  first-beginning  trees,  their  roots,  their  leaves. 
In  narrow  seeds  described  ;   thou  'It  wondering  say 
An  inmate  orchard  every  apple  boasts. 
Thus  all  things  by  experience  are  displayed, 
And  most  improved. 

IMPROVEMENTS     EVER    TO     BE     ASSIDnOUSLT     SOtTGHT    AND 
PRACTISED  }   THE  ADTHOR'S  TOILS   AND   ANXIETIES. 

Then  sedulously  think 
To  meliorate  thy  stock  ;  no  way  or  rule 
Be  unassayed  ;  prevent  the  morning  star 
Assiduous,  nor  with  the  western  sun 
Surcease  to  work  ;   lo  !  thoughtful  of  thy  gain, 
Not  of  my  own,  I  all  the  live-long  day 
Consume  in  meditation  deep,  recluse 
From  human  converse,  nor,  at  shut  of  eve, 
Enjoy  repose  ;  but  oft  at  midnight  lamp 
Ply  my  brain-racking  studies,  if  by  chance 
Thee  I  may  counsel  right  ;  and  oft  this  care 
Disturbs  me  slumbering.     Wilt  thou,  then,  repine 
To  labor  for  thyself?  and  rather  choose 
To  lie  supinely,  hoping  Heaven  will  bless 
Thy  slighted  fruits,  and  give  thee  bread  unearned  ? 

THE     PRUNING     OF     APPLE-TREES  ;     "IVHAT    TIME    THE     STORK 

'T  will  profit,  when  the  stork,  sworn  foe  of  snakes. 
Returns,  to  show  compassion  to  thy  plants. 
Fatigued  with  breeding.     Let  the  arched  knife 
Well  sharpened  now  assail  the  spreading  shades 
Of  vegetables,  and  their  thirsty  limbs 
Dissever  :  for  the  genial  moisture,  due 
To  apples,  otherwise  misspends  itself 
In  barren  twigs,  and,  for  the  expected  crop, 
Naught  but  vain  shoots  and  empty  leaves  abound. 


When  swelling  buds  their  odorous  foliage  shed, 
And  gently  harden  into  fruit,  the  wise 
Spare  not  the  little  offsprings,  if  they  grow 
Redundant ;  but  the  thronging  clusters  thin 
By  kind  avulsion  :  else,  the  starveling  brood, 
Void  of  sufficient  sustenance,  will  yield 
A  slender  autumn  ;   which  the  nig;j;ard  soul 
Too  lato  shall  weep,  and  curse  his  thrifty  hand, 
That  would  not  timely  ease  the  ponderous  boughs. 


It  much  conduces,  all  the  cares  to  know 
Of  gardening  ;  how  to  scare  nocturnal  thieves. 
And  how  the  little  race  of  birds,  that  hop 
From  spray  to  spray,  scooping  the  costliest  fruit, 
Insatiate,  undisturbed.     Priapus'  form 
Avails  but  little  ;  rather  guard  each  row 
With  the  false  terrors  of  a  breathless  kite. 
This  done,  the  timorous  flock  with  swiftest  wing 


AUTUMN  —  NOVEMBER. 


381 


Soud  through  the  air  ;  their  fiinoy  represents 
Uis  mortal  talons,  and  his  ravenous  beak 
Destructive  ;  glad  to  shun  his  hostile  gripe, 
They  quit  their  thefts,  and  unfrequout  the  fields. 

SWISK  TO  IIK  XKPT  FIIOM  TllUBS. 

Besides,  the  filthy  swine  will  oft  invade 
Thy  firm  enclosure,  and  with  delving  snout 
The  rooted  forest  undermine  :  forthwith 
Alloo  thy  furious  mastiff,  bid  him  ve.x 
The  noxious  herd,  and  print  upon  their  ears 
A  sad  memorial  of  their  paat  oftenco. 

SNAILS   IS   THE  ORCIIAKD. 

The  flagrant  Procyon  will  not  fail  to  bring 
Largo  shoals  of  slow,  house-bearing  snails,  that  creep 
O'er  the  ripe  fruitage,  paring  slimy  tracts 
In  the  sleek  rinds,  and  unprcssed  cider  drink. 
Xo  art  averts  this  pest  ;  on  thee  it  lies, 
M'ith  morning  and  with  evening  hand,  to  rid 
The  preying  reptiles  ;  nor,  if  wise,  wilt  thou 
Decline  this  labor,  which  itself  rewards 
AVith  pleasing  gain,  whilst  the  warm  limbec  draws 
Salubrious  waters  from  the  noccnt  brood. 

WiSPS  OS  APPLB-TBBES. 

iMyriads  of  wasps  now  also  clustering  hang, 
And  drain  a  spurious  honey  from  thy  groves. 
Their  winter  food  ;  though  oft  repulsed,  again 
Thoy  rally,  undismayed  :  but  fraud  with  ease 
Ensnares  the  noisome  swarms  ;  let  every  bough 
Bear  frequent  vials,  pregnant  with  the  dregs 
Of  .Moyle,  or  Mum,  or  treacle's  viscous  juice  ; 
They,  by  the  alluring  odor  drawn,  in  haste 
Fly  to  the  dulcet  cates,  and,  crowding,  sip 
Their  palatable  bane  ;  joyful  thou  'It  see 
The  clammy  surface  all  o'erstrewn  with  tribes 
Of  greedy  insects,  that,  with  fruitless  toil, 
Fhip  filmy  pennons  oft,  to  extricate 
Tlieir  feet,  in  liquid  shackles  bound,  till  death 
Bereave  them  of  their  worthless  souls  :  such  doom 
Waits  luxury,  and  lawless  love  of  gain  ! 

BOT  ASD  WORMS  I.V  APPLES.  —  MILITARY  MISBS. 

Ilowc'er  thou  mayst  forbid  external  force, 
Intestine  evils  will  prevail  ;  damp  airs. 
And  rainy  winters,  to  the  centre  pierce 
Of  firmest  fruits,  and  by  unseen  decay 
The  proper  relish  vitiate  :  then  the  grub 
Oft  unobserved  ini-ndes  the  vital  core. 
Pernicious  tenant,  and  her  secret  oavo 
Enlarges  hourly,  preying  on  the  pulp 
Ceaseless  ;  meanwhile  the  apple's  outward  form 
Delectable  the  witless  swoin  beguiles. 
Till,  with  a  writhen  mouth,  and  spattering  noise, 
He  tastes  the  bitter  morsel,  and  rejects 
Disrelished  ;  not  with  the  less  surprise,  than  when 
Embattled  troops  with  flowing  banners  pass 
Through  flowery  meads  delighted,  nor  distrust 
The  smiling  surface  ;  whilst  the  caverned  ground. 
With  grain  incentive  stored,  by  sudden  blaze 
Bursts  fatal,  and  involves  the  hopes  of  war 


In  flery  whirls  ;  full  of  viotorious  thoughts, 
Torn  and  dismembered,  they  aloft  expire. 


THK  PIPPLS  ;  MOILB  ;  PKRVAIS  ;  OTTLBY  ;  KLIOT  ;  JOHS- 
APPLK  ;  irAKVET -,  TmUPT ;  OODLINO  ;  POMROY  ;  BDS3BT  ; 
CAT's-HKAD. 

Now  turn  thine  eye  to  view  Alcinous'  Groves, 
The  pride  of  the  Phicacian  isle,  from  whence, 
Sailing  the  spaces  of  the  boundless  deep. 
To  Arioonium  precious  fruits  arrived  : 
The  Pippin  burnished  o'er  with  gold,  the  Moile 
Of  sweetest  honeyed  taste,  the  fair  Permain, 
Tempered,  like  comeliest  nymph,  witli  red  and  white. 
Sabjpian  acres  flourish  with  a  growtli 
Peculiar,  styled  the  Ottley  :  be  lli.iii  first 
Tills  apple  to  transplant  ;   if  to  the  n.imo 
Its  merit  answers,  nowhere  shalt  tliou  find 
A  wine  more  prized,  or  laudable  of  taste. 
Nor  does  the  Eliot  least  deserve  thy  earc, 
Nor  John-apple,  whose  withered  rind,  intrenched 
With  many  a  furrow,  aptly  represents 
Decrepid  age  ;  nor  that  from  Harvey  named, 
Quick-relishing  :  why  should  we  sing  the  Thrift, 
Codling,  or  Pomroy,  or  of  pimpled  coat 
The  Russet,  or  the  Cat's-head's  weighty  orb, 
Enormous  in  its  growth  ;  for  various  use 
Though  these  are  meet,  though  after  full  repast 
Are  oft  required,  and  crown  the  rich  dessert  ? 


PEAR-TREBS    A    GOOD 


PEARJTBEBS;    TBI! 


What  though  the  pear-tfeo  rival  not  the  worth 
Of  Arieonian  products  ?  yet  her  freight 
Is  not  contemned,  yet  her  wide-branching  arms 
Best  screen  thy  mansion  from  tlie  fervent  Dng 
Adverse  to  life  ;  the  wintry  hurricanes 
In  vain  employ  their  roar,  her  trunk  unmoved 
Breaks  the  strong  onset,  and  controls  their  rage. 
Chiefly  the  Bosbury,  whose  largo  increase, 
-Annual,  in  sumptuous  banquets  claims  applause. 
Thrice  acceptable  beyerage  !  could  but  art 
Subdue  the  floating  lee,  Pomona's  self 
Would  dread  thy  praise,  and  shun  the  dubious  strife. 
Be  it  thy  choice,  when  Summer  heats  annoy, 
To  sit  beneath  her  leafy  canopy. 
Quaffing  rich  liquids  ;  0  !  how  sweet  to  enjoy 
At  once  her  fruits  and  hospitable  shade  ! 


But  how  with  equal  numbers  shall  we  match 
The  Musk's  surpassing  worth  !  tluit  i-urliest  gives 
Sure  hopes  of  raey  wiii>  ,  ml  iii  li     -  nili, 
Its  tender  nonage,  IimI    lii        i      i      :  i.  pughs 
With  large  and  juicy  .1        n  ■ 

The  vernal  nipping?,  mh  I      11  -  1.  i  il  Kindts  ! 
Yet  let  her  to  the  Red-streak  yield,  that  onoe 
Was  of  the  sylvan  kind,  uncivilized. 
Of  no  regard,  till  Scudamore's  skilful  hand 
Improved  her,  and  by  courtly  discipline 
Taught  her  the  savage  nature  to  forget  : 
Uence  styled  the  Scudamorean  plant  ;  whoso  wine 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  PHILIPS. 


Whoever  tastes,  let  him  with  grateful  heart 
Respect  that  ancient  loyal  house,  and  wish 
The  noble  peer,  that  now  transcends  our  hope; 
In  early  worth,  his  country's  justest  pride, 
Uninterrupted  joy,  and  health  entire. 


Let  every  tree  in  every  garden  own 
The  Red-streak  as  supreme  ;  whose  pulpous  fruit 
'With  gold  irradiate,  and  vermilion,  shines 
Tempting,  not  fatal,  as  the  birth  of  that 
Primeval,  interdicted  plant,  that  won 
Fond  Eve  in  hapless  hour  to  taste,  and  die. 
This,  of  more  bounteous  influence,  inspires 
Poetic  raptures,  and  the  lowly  muse 
Kindles  to  loftier  strains  ;   even  I  perceive 
Her  sacred  virtue.     Sec  !  the  numbers  flow 
Easy,  whilst,  cheered  with  her  nectareous  juice, 
Hers  and  my  country's  praises  I  exalt. 
Hail  Herefordian  plant,  that  does  disdain 
All  other  fields  !     Heaven's  sweetest  blessing,  hail  ! 
Be  thou  the  copious  matter  of  my  song, 
And  thy  choice  nectar  ;   on  which  always  waits 
Laughter,  and  sport,  and  care-beguiling  wit, 
And  friendship,  chief  delight  of  human  life. 
What  should  we  wish  for  more  ?  or  why,  in  quest 
Of  foreign  vintage,  insincere,  and  mixed, 
Traverse  the  extremest  world  ?    Why  tempt  the  rage 
Of  the  rough  ocean  ?  when  our  native  glebe 
Imparts,  from  bounteous  womb,  annual  recruits 
Of  wine  delectable,  that  far  surmounts 
Gallic  or  Latin  grapes,  or  those  that  see 
The  setting  sun  near  Calpe's  towering  height. 


Nor  let  the  Rhodian,  nor  the  Lesbian  vines, 
Vaunt  their  rich  must,  nor  let  Tokay  contend 
For  sovereignty  ;  Phanaeus*  self  must  bow 
To  the  Ariconian  vales  :  and  shall  we  doubt 
To  improve  our  vegetable  wealth,  or  let 
The  soil  lie  idle,  which,  with  fit  manure, 
Will  largest  usury  repay,  alone 
Empowered  to  supply  what  nature  asks 
Frugal,  or  what  nice  appetite  requires  ? 
The  meadows  here,  with  battening  ooze  enriched, 
Give  spirit  to  the  grass  ;  three  cubits  high 
The  jointed  herbage  shoots  ;   the  unfallowed  glebe 
Yearly  o'ercomes  the  granaries  with  store 
Of  golden  wheat,  the  strength  of  human  life. 
Lo,  on  auxiliary  poles,  the  hops, 
Ascending  spiral,  ranged  in  meet  array  ! 
Lo,  how  the  arable  with  barley  grain 
Stands  thick,  o'ershadowed,  to  the  thirsty  hind 
Transporting  prospect !     These,  as  modem  use 
Ordains,  infused,  an  auburn  drink  compose. 
Wholesome,  of  deathless  fame.     Here,  to  the  sight, 
Apples  of  price,  and  plenteous  sheaves  of  corn. 
Oft  interlaced  occur,  and  both  imbibe 
Fitting  congenial  juice  ;  so  rich  the  soil, 
So  much  does  fructuous  moisture  o'er-abound  ! 


-  Nor  are  the  hills  unamiable,  whose  tops 
To  heaven  aspire,  afEording  prospect  sweet 
To  human  ken  ;  nor  at  their  feet  the  vales 
Descending  gently,  where  the  lowing  herd 
Chews  verdurous  pasture  ;   nor  the  yellow  fields 
Gayly  interchanged,  with  rich  variety, 
Pleasing,  as  when  an  emerald  green,  enchased 
In  flamy  gold,  from  the  bright  mass  acquires 
A  nobler  hue,  more  delicate  to  sight. 
Next  add  the  sylvan  shades,  and  silent  groyes, 
Haunt  of  the  Druids,  whence  the  hearth  is  fed 
With  copious  fuel  ;  whence  the  sturdy  oak, 
A  prince's  refuge  once,  the  eternal  guard 
Of  England's  throne,  by  sweating  peasants  felled. 
Stems  the  vast  main,  and  bears  tremendous  war 
To  distant  nations,  or  with  sovereign  sway 
Awes  the  divided  world  to  peace  and  love. 
Why  should  the  Chalybes  or  Bilboa  boast 
Their  hardened  iron  ;  when  our  mines  produce 
As  perfect  martial  ore  ?     Can  Tmolus'  head 
Vie  with  our  safiron  odors  ?  or  the  fleece 
Bsetic,  or  finest  Tarentine,  compare 
With  Lemster's  silken  wool  ? 


Men  more  undaunted,  l^^v  ili.  i,  .  ,,niin_\'s  weal 
More  prodigal  of  life  ?     In  ancient  days, 
The  Roman  legions  and  great  Ctesar  found 
Our  fathers  no  mean  foes  :  and  Cressy  plains, 
And  Agincourt,  deep-tinged  with  bloo<l,  confess 
What  the  Silures'  vigor  unwithstood 
Could  do  in  rigid  fight  ;  and  chiefly  what 
Brydges'  wide-wasting  hand,  first  gartered  knight, 
Puissant  author  of  great  Chandos'  stem. 
High  Chandos,  that  transmits  paternal  worth. 
Prudence,  and  ancient  prowess,  and  renown, 
To  his  noble  offspring.     0  thrice  happy  peer  ! 
That,  blest  with  hoary  vigor,  view'st  thyself 
Fresh  blooming  in  thy  generous  son  ;  whose  lips, 
Flowing  with  nervous  eloquence  exact. 
Charm  the  wise  senate,  and  attention  win 
In  deepest  councils  :  Ariconium,  pleased. 
Him,  as  her  chosen  worthy,  first  salutes. 
Him  on  the  Iberian,  on  the  Gallic  shore. 
Him  hardy  Britons  bless  ;  his  faithful  hand 
Conveys  new  courage  from  afar,  uur  more 
The  general's  conduct  than  his  care  avails. 


Thee  also,  glorious  branch  of  Cecil's  line, 
This  country  claims  ;  with  pride  and  joy  to  thee 
Thy  Alterennis  calls  :  yet  she  endures 
Patient  thy  absence,  since  thy  prudent  choice 
Has  fixed  thee  in  the  muse's  fairest  seat, 
Where  Aldrich  reigns,  and  from  his  endless  store 
Of  universal  knowledge  still  supplies 
His  noble  care  ;  he  generous  thoughts  instils 


AUTUMN  —  NOVEMBER. 


Of  true  nobility,  their  country  8  love 

(Chief  end  of  life),  and  forms  their  ductile  minds 

To  human  virtues  :  by  his  genius  led, 

Thou  soon  in  every  art  preeminent 

Shalt  grace  this  isle,  and  rise  to  Burleigh's  fame. 

Hail,  high-born  peer!  And  thou,  great  nurse  of  arta, 
And  men,  from  whence  conspicuous  patriots  spring, 
Ilanmer,  and  Bromley  ;  thou,  to  whom  with  due 
Respect  Wintonia  bows,  ond  joyful  owns 
Thy  mitred  offspring  ;  bo  forever  blest 
With  like  examples,  and  to  future  times, 
Proficuous,'  such  a  race  of  men  produce, 
As,  in  the  cause  of  virtue  firm,  may  fix 
Her  throne  inviolate.     Hear,  ye  gods,  this  vow 
From  one,  the  meanest  in  her  numerous  train  ; 
Though  meanest,  not  least  studious  of  her  praise. 


Muse,  raise  thy  voice  to  Beaufort's  spotless  fi 
To  Beaufort,  in  a  long  descent  derived 
From  royal  ancestry,  of  kingly  righta 
Faithful  asserters  :  in  him  centring  meet 
Their  glorious  virtues,  high  desert  from  pride 
Disjoined,  unshaken  honor,  and  contempt 
Of  strong  allurements.     0,  illustrious  prince  ! 
0,  thou  of  ancient  faith  !     E.xulting,  thee 
In  her  fair  list  this  happy  land  inrolls. 


Who  can  refuse  a  tributary  verso 
To  Weymouth,  firmest  friend  of  slighted  worth 
Tn  evil  days  ?  whoso  hospitable  gate, 
I'nbarred  to  all,  invites  a  numerous  train 
Of  daily  gne?t?;  whose  board,  with  plenty  crowned, 
Rcvivr-  till   iV;i  t-iih^  . .M  :  racanwhilc  hls  caro 
Kor^'.t-  II   '  1'  ■    I  I.I  ii  I,  Init,  content 
In  a<t-  .1    '       1  L      ii  •    -.  shuns  the  praise. 
That  -uri    111.  11. 1-       I',  rniit  me,  bounteous  lord, 
To  blazon  what  though  hid  will  beauteous  shine  ; 
And  with  thy  name  to  dignify  my  song. 

ROBEHT  H.VRI.Er. 

But  who  is  he,  that  on  the  winding  stream 
Of  "V'aga  fir.st  drew  vital  breath,  and  now 
Ajiproved  iu  Anna's  secret  councils  sits. 
Weighing  the  sum  of  things,  with  wise  forecast 
Solicitous  of  public  good  7     How  large 
His  mind,  that  comprehends  whato'er  was  known 
To  old,  or  present  time";  yet  not  elate, 
Xot  conscious  of  its  skill  ?    What  praiso  deserves 
His  liberal  hand,  that  gathers  but  to  give. 
Preventing  suit  ?     0,  not  unthankful  muse, 
Him  lowly  reverence,  that  first  deigned  to  hear 
Thy  pipe,and  screened  theefrom  opprobrious  tongues. 
Acknowledge  thy  own  Horley,  and  his  name 
Inscribe  on  every  bark  ;  the  wounded  plants 
Will  fast  increase,  faster  thy  just  respect. 


The  female  sex,  with  sweet  attractive  airs, 
Subdue  obdurate  hearts.     The  travellers  oft, 
That   view   their   matchless   forms   with  transient 

glance, 
Catch  sudden  love,  and  sigh  for  nymphs  unknown, 
Smit  with  the  magic  of  their  eyes  :  nor  hath 
The  DoKlal  hand  of  nature  only  poured 
Her  gifts  of  outward  grace  ;   their  innocence 
Unfeigned,  and  virtue  most  engaging,  free 
From  pride,  or  artifice,  long  joys  afford 
To  the  honest  nuptial  bed,  and  in  the  wane 
Of  life  rebate  the  miseries  of  age. 


Such  are  our  heroes,  by  their  virtues  known. 
Or  skill  in  peace  and  war  :  of  softer  mould, 


And  is  there  found  a  wretch,  so  base  of  mind, 
That  woman's  powerful  beauty  dares  condemn, 
E.\actest  work  of  heaven  ?     He  ill  deserves 
Or  love,  or  pity  ;  friendless  let  him  see 
Uneasy,  tedious  days,  despised,  forlorn. 
As  stain  of  human  voce  :  but  may  the  man, 
That  cheerfully  recounts  the  females'  praise, 
Find  equal  love,  and  love's  untainted  sweets 
Enjoy  with  honor.     0,  ye  gods  !  might  I 
Elect  my  fate,  my  happiest  choice  should  bo 
A  fair  and  modest  virgin,  that  invites 
With  aspect  chaste,  forbidding  loose  desire, 
Tenderly  smiling  ;  in  whose  heavenly  eye 
Sits  purest  love  enthroned  :  but  if  the  stars 
Malignant  these  my  better  hopes  oppose, 
May  I,  at  least,  the  sacred  pleasure  know 
Of  strictest  amity  ;  nor  ever  want 
A  friend,  with  whom  I  mutually  may  share 
Gladness,  and  anguish,  by  kind  intercourse 
Of  speech  and  offices. 

THE   LiDV  TREVOR  J   TOE   iCTBOR'S   FHIE.ND   IS   SICKS>2SS. 

May  in  my  mind 
Indelible  a  grateful  sense  remain 
Of  favors  undeserved  !  —  0  thou  !  from  whom 
Gladly  both  rich  and  low  seek  aid  ;  most  wise 
Interpreter  of  right,  whose  gracious  voice 
Breathes  equity,  and  curbs  too  rigid  law 
With  mild,  impartial  reason  ;  what  returns 
Of  thanks  are  due  to  thy  beneficence 
Freely  vouchsafed,  when  to  the  gates  of  death 
I  tended  prone  ?     If  thy  indulgent  care 
Had  not  prevened,  among  unbodied  shades 
I  now  had  wandered  ;  and  these  empty  thoughts 
Of  apples  perished  :  but,  upraised  by  thee, 
I  tune  my  pipe  afresh,  each  night  and  day. 
Thy  unexampled  goodness  to  extol 
Desirous  ;  but  nor  night  nor  day  suffice 
For  that  great  task  ;  the  highly  honored  name 
Of  Trevor  must  employ  my  willing  thoughts 
Incessant,  dwell  forever  on  my  tongue. 

THE  STCOPHJJiT  ANO  BTPOCRrTE  DESOISCED. 

Let  me  be  grateful,  but  let  far  from  me 
Be  fawning  cringe,  and  false,  dissembling  look, 
And  servile  flattery,  that  harbors  oft 
In  courts  and  gilded  roofs.     Some  loose  the  bands 


384 


RURAL    POETRY. PHILIPS. 


Of  ancient  friendship,  cancel  Nature's  laws 

For  pageantry,  and  tawdry  gewgaws.     Some 

Renounce  their  sires,  oppose  paternal  right 

For  rule  and  power;  uud  others'  realms  invade. 

With  specious  shows  of  love.    This  traitorous  wretch 

Betrays  his  sovereign.     Others,  destitute 

Of  real  zeal,  to  every  altar  bend, 

By  lucre  swayed,  and  act  the  basest  things 

To  be  styled  honorable. 


The  honest  man. 
Simple  of  heart,  prefers  inglorious  want 
To  ill-got  wealth  ;  rather  from  door  to  door 
A  jocund  pilgrim,  though  distressed,  he  '11  rove, 
Than  break  his  plighted  faith  ;  nor  fear,  nor  hope, 
AVill  'lii .!-  hi     t.  ulti.f  soul  ;  rather  debarred 
EiU'li  ■  ■  I    .    :i  ,      .   I    ..  ,  Lut  off  from  hopes 
Ofiii'  I'      '      I  I    I  I '-flit  goods  despoiled, 

He'll  liiii  i!m    II,,  1 1  .  ,,r  infamy,  contemned, 
Unpiticd  ;   yit  his  luinil,  of  evil  pure, 
Supports  him,  and  intention  free  from  fraud. 
If  no  retinue  with  observant  eyes 
Attend  him,  if  he  can't  with  purple  stain 
Of  cumbrous  vestments,  labored  o'er  with  gold. 
Dazzle  the  crowd,  and  set  them  all  agape  ; 
Yet  clad  in  homely  weeds,  from  envy's  darts 
Remote  he  lives,  nor  knows  the  nightly  pangs 
Of  conscience,  nor  with  spectres'  grisly  forms. 
Demons,  and  injured  souls,  at  close  of  day 
Annoyed,  sad  interrupted  slumbers  finds. 
But  (as  a  child,  whose  inexperienced  age 
Nor  evil  purpose  fears,  nor  knows)  enjoys 
Night's  sweet  refreshment,  humid  sleep,  sincere. 

WITHOUT  EVIL-SPEAKISO   OR  ILL    THOUGHTS    OF   OTHERS.     ' 

When  Chanticleer,  with  clarion  shrill,  recalls 
The  tardy  day,  he  to  his  labors  hies 
Gladsome,  intent  on  somewhat  that  may  ease 
Unhealthy  mortals,  and  with  curious  search 
Examines  all  the  ]irnpfrties  nf  herbs. 
Fossils,  and  iiiiiin:,!^,  t|,;,i  (h,.  ,  n.bowelled  earth 
Displays,  if  by  hi-  iii,|ii-ii  y  li,   run 
Ben'fit  the  hum;in  nicr  :  ui  c  !,-,■  his  thoughts 
Are  exercised  with  speculations  deep 
Of  good,  and  just,  and  meet,  and  the  wholesome  rules 
Of  temperance,  and  aught  that  may  improve 
The  moral  life  ;   not  sedulous  to  rail. 
Nor  with  envenomed  tongue  to  blast  the  fame 
Of  harmless  me 


And  how  to  improve  his  grounds,  and  how  himself 
Best  poet  !  fit  exemplar  for  the  tribe 
Of  Phoebus,  nor  less  fit  Maoniiles, 
Poor,  eyeless  pilgrim  !  and  if  after  these. 
If  after  these  another  I  may  name, 
Thus  tender  Spenser  lived,  with  mean  repast 
Content,  depressed  by  penury,  and  pined 
In  foreign  realm  :  yet  not  debased  his  verse 
By  fortune's  frowns.     And  had  that  other  bard, 
0,  had  but  he  that  first  ennobled  sung 
With  holy  raptures,  like  his  Abdiel  been  ; 
'Mong  many  faithless,  strictly  faithful  found  ; 
Unpiticd,  he  should  not  have  wailed  his  orbs. 
That  rolled  in  vain  to  find  the  piercing  ray 
And  found  no  dawn,  by  dim  suffusion  veiled  ! 
But  he  — however,  let  the  muse  abstain, 
Nor  blast  his  fame,  from  whom  she  learnt  to  sing 
In  much  inferior  strains,  grovelling  beneath 
The  Olympian  hill,  on  plains  and  vales  intent, 
IVIean  follower.     There  let  her  rest  a  while, 
Pleased  with  the  fragrant  walks,  and  cool  retreat. 


)K     II. 

HARCOL'RT,   ABSEST   LS 

0  Hareourt,  whom  the  ingenuous  love  of 


cret  whispers  spread, 
'Mong  faithful  friends,  to  breed  distrust  and  hate. 
Studious  of  virtue,  he  no  life  observes 
Except  his  own,  his  own  employs  his  cares. 
Large  subject !  that  he  labors  to  refine 
Daily,  nor  of  his  little  stock  denies 
Fit  alms  to  Lazars,  merciful,  and  meek. 

Thus  sacred  Virgil  lived,  from  courtly  vice 
And  baits  of  pompous  Rome  secure  ;  at  court 
Still  thoughtful  of  the  rural  honest  life, 


Has  carried  from  thy  native  soil,  beyond 
The  eternal  Alpine  snows,  and  now  detains 
In  Italy's  waste  realms,  how  long  must  we 
Lament  thy  absence  ?     Whilst  in  sweet  sojourn 
Thou  view'st  the  relics  of  old  Rome  ;  or  what 
Unrivalled  authors  by  their  presence  made 
Forever  venerable,  rural  seats, 
Tibur,  and  Tusculum,  or  Virgil's  urn 
Green  with  immortal  bays,  which  haply  thou, 
Respecting  his  great  name,  dost  now  approach 
With  bended  knee,  and  strew  with  purple  flowers  ; 
Unmindful  of  tliy  friends,  that  ill  can  brook 
This  long  delay.     At  length,  dear  youth,  return, 
Of  wit  and  judgment  ripe  in  blooming  years. 
And  Britain's  isle  with  Latian  knowledge  graee. 
Return,  and  let  thy  father's  worth  excite 
Thirst  of  preeminence  ;  see  !  how  the  cause 
Of  widows  and  of  orphans  he  asserts 
With  winning  rhetoric  and  well-argued  law  ! 
Mark  well  his  footsteps,  and,  like  him,  deserve 
Thy  prince's  favor,  and  thy  country's  love. 

DEDICiTIO.V   TO  HABCOlJnT.  —  CIOEB. 

Meanwhile  (although  the  Massic  grape  delights, 
Pregnant  of  racy  juice,  and  Formian  hills 
Temper  thy  cups,  yet)  wilt  not  thou  reject 
Thy  native  liquors  :  lo  !  for  thee  my  mill 
Now  grinds  choice  apples,  and  the  British  vats 
O'erflow  with  generous  cider  ;  far  remote 
Accept  this  labor,  nor  despise  the  muse, 
That,  passing  lands  and  seas,  on  thee  attends. 


Thus  far  of  trees  :  the  pleasing  task  remains, 
To  sing  of  wines,  and  Autumn's  blest  iuerease. 


AUTUMN  —  NOVEMBER. 


Tlio  cffocts  of  art  are  shown,  yot  what  avails 
'Gainst  hcavon  ?    Oft,  notwithstanding  all  thy  care 
To  help  thy  plants,  when  the  small  fruitory  soems 
Exempt  from  ills,  an  orient  Blast 
Disastrous  flies,  soon  as  the  hinil,  fatigued, 
Unyokes  his  team  ;  tlio  tender  freight,  unskilled 
To  bear  the  hot  disease,  distempered  pines 
In  tho  year's  prime,  the  deadly  plague  annoys 
Tho  mde  enclosure  ;  think  not  vainly  now 
To  treat  thy  neighbors  with  mellifluous  cups, 
Thus  disappointed  :  if  tho  former  years 
Exhibit  no  supplies,  alas  !  thou  must 
With  tasteless  water  wash  thy  droughty  throat. 


A  thousand  accidents  the  farmer's  hopes 
Subvert  or  check  ;  uncertain  all  his  toil. 
Till  lusty  Autumn's  lukewarm  days,  allayed 
With  gentle  colds,  insensibly  oonfurm 
His  ripening  labors  :  Autumn  to  tho  fruits 
Earth's  various  lap  produces  vigor  gives 
Equal,  intenerating  milky  grain, 
Berries,  and  sky-dyed  plums,  and  what  in  coat 
Rough,  or  soft  rind,  or  bearded  husk,  or  shell ; 
Fat  olives,  and  Pistacio's  fragrant  nut. 
And  the  pine's  tasteful  apple  ;  Autumn  paints 
Ausonian  hills  with  grapes,  whilst  English  plaii 
Blush  with  pomaceous  harvests,  breathing  swcei 


0  let  mo  now,  when  the  kind  early  dew 
I'nlocks  tho  embosomed  odors,  walk  among 
T!io  well-ranged  files  of  trees,  whose  full-aged  stores 
IHtTuse  ambrosial  steams,  than  myrrh  or  nard 
Jloro  grateful,  or  perfuming  flowery  bean  ! 
Soft  whispering  airs,  and  the  lark's  matin  song. 
Then  woo  to  musing,  and  becalm  the  mind 
Perplexed  with  irksome  thoughts.  Thrice  happy  time, 
Best  portion  of  the  various  year,  in  which 
Nature  rejoiceth,  smiling  on  her  works 
Lovely,  to  full  perfection  wrought !  but,  ah, 
Short  arc  our  joys,  and  neighboring  griefs  disturb 
Our  pleasant  hours. 

APPLB-OATUEKl.NQ. 

Inclement  Winter  dwells 
Contiguous  ;  forthwith  frosty  blasts  deface 
The  blithesome  year  :  trees  of  their  shrivelled  fruits 
Are  widowed,  dreary  storms  o'er  all  prevail. 
Now,  now 's  the  time  ;  ere  hasty  suns  forbid 
To  work,  disburthon  thou  thy  sapless  wood 
Of  its  rich  progeny  ;  the  turgid  fruit 
Abounds  with  mellow  liquor  ;  now  oihort 
Thy  hinds  to  exercise  tho  pointed  steel 
On  the  hard  rock,  and  give  a  whooly  form 
To  tho  expected  grinder. 

THE  aDBB-MILL  ;  nOW  TO  MAKB  n  ;  TOE  STBiHEK. 

Now  prepare 
Materials  for  thy  mill,  a  sturdy  post 
Cylindric,  to  support  the  grinder's  weight 
Excessive,  and  a  llcxilo  sallow,  intrenched. 


49 


Rounding,  capacious  of  tho  juicy  hordo. 
Nor  mu«t  thou  not  bo  mindful  of  thy  press 
Long  ere  tho  vintage  ;  but  with  timely  care 
Shave  tho  goat's  shaggy  beard,  lest  thou  too  late 
In  vain  shouldst  seek  a  strainer,  to  dispart 
Tho  husky,  terrene  dregs,  from  purer  must. 


Be  cautious  next  a  proper  steed  to  find. 
Whose  prime  is  past ;  tho  vigorous  horse  disdains 
Such  servile  labors,  or,  if  forced,  forgets 
His  past  achievements,  and  victorious  palms. 
Blind  Bayard  rather,  worn  with  work  and  years. 
Shall  roll  the  unwieldy  stone  ;  with  sober  paco 
He  'II  tread  the  circling  path  till  dewy  eve. 
From  early  day-spring,  pleased  to  find  his  age 
Declining,  not  unuseful  to  his  lord. 


HOW  TO  DISPOSE  OF  THE  APPLE-cnEESE  ;   FOB  A  SECOND 
PBESSISO  i   FOR  UANCRE. 

Some,  when  tho  press,  by  utmost  vigor  screwed, 
Has  drained  tho  pulpous  mass,  regale  their  swine 
With  tho  dry  refuse  ;  thou,  more  wise,  shalt  steep 
Thy  husks  in  water,  and  again  employ 
Tho  ponderous  engine.     Water  will  imbibe 
The  small  remains  of  spirit,  and  acquire 
A  vinous  flavor  ;  this  the  peasants  blithe 
Will  quaff,  and  whistle,  as  thy  tinkling  team 
They  drive,  and  sing  of  Fusca's  radiant  eyes, 
Pleased  with  the  medley  draught.  Nor  shalt  thou  now 
Reject  the  apple-cheese,  though  quite  exhaust ; 
Even  now  'twill  cherish  and  improve  the  roots 
Of  sickly  plants  ;  new  vigor  hence  conveyed 
Will  yield  an  harvest  of  unusual  growth. 
Such  profit  springs  from  husks  discreetly  used  ! 


The  tender  apples,  from  their  parents  rent, 
By  stormy  shocks  must  not  neglected  lie, 
Tho  prey  of  worms  :  a  frugal  man  I  knew, 
Rich  in  one  barren  acre,  which,  subdued 
By  endless  culture,  with  sufficient  must 
His  casks  replenished  yearly  :  he  no  more 
Desired,  nor  wanted,  diligent  to  learn 
The  various  seasons,  and  by  skill  repol 
Invading  pests,  successful  in  his  cares. 
Till  the  dump  Libyan  wind,  with  tempests  armed 
Outrageous,  blustered  horrible  amidst 
His  cider-grove  :  o'erturned  by  "furious  blasts, 
The  sightly  ranks  fall  prostrate,  and  around 
Their  fruitage  scattered,  from  the  genial  boughs 
Stript  immature  :  yet  did  he  not  repine. 
Nor  ourso  his  stars  ;  but,  prudent,  bis  fallen  heaps 
Collecting,  cherished  with  the  tepid  wreaths 
Of  tedded  grass,  and  tho  sun's  mellowing  beams 
Rivalled  with  artful  heats,  and  thenco  procured 
A  costly  liquor,  by  improving  time 
Equalled  with  what  the  happiest  vintage  bears. 

CIDER    SOI  TO  BE  IDCLIERilED,  SOR    FORCED  BV  BOIUSO. 

But  this  I  warn  thee,  and  shall  alway  warn, 
No  heterogeneous  mixtures  use,  as  some 


386 


RURAL    POETRY. 


With  watry  turnips  have  debased  tlieir  wines, 

Too  frugal  ;  nor  let  the  crude  humors  dance 

In  heated  brass,  steaming  with  fire  intense  ; 

Although  Devonia  much  commends  the  use 

Of  strengthening  Vulcan ;  with  their  native  strength 

Thy  wines  sufficient  other  aid  refuse  ; 

And,  when  the  allotted  orb  of  time's  complete, 

Are  more  commended  than  the  labored  drinks. 

TITHES.  —  THE  DANGER  OF  WITHHOLDING  THEM  ;    FATE  OF  A 

Nor  let  thy  avarice  tempt  thee  to  withdraw 
The  priest's  appointed  share  ;  with  cheerful  heart 
The  tenth  of  thy  increase  bestow,  and  own 
Heaven's  bounteous  goodness,  that  will  sure  repay 
Thy  grateful  duty  :  this  neglected,  fear 
Signal  avengeance,  such  as  overtook 
A  miser,  that  unjustly  once  withheld 
The  clergy's  due  ;   relying  on  himself. 
His  fields  he  tended  with  successless  care, 
Early  and  late,  when  or  unwished-for  rain 
Descended,  or  unseasonable  frosts 
Curbed  his  increasing  hopes,  or  when  around 
The  clouds  dropt  fatness,  in  the  middle  sky 
The  dew  suspended  staid,  and  left  unmoist 
His  execrable  glebe  :  recording  this. 
Be  just,  and  wise,  and  tremble  to  transgress. 


Learn  now,  the  promise  of  the  coming  year 
To  know,  that  by  no  flattering  signs  abused, 
Thou  wisely  mayst  provide  :  the  various  moon 
Prophetic,  and  attendant  stars,  explain 
Each  rising  dawn  ;  ere  icy  crusts  surmount 
The  current  stream,  the  heavenly  orbs  serene 
Twinkle  with  trembling  rays,  and  Cynthia  glows 
With  light  unsullied  :  now  the  fowler,  warned 
By  these  good  omens,  with  swift  early  steps  [glades 
Treads  the  crimp  earth,  ranging  through  fields  and 
Ofi'ensive  to  the  bird?,  snlphurenus  death 
Checks  their  mid  fIi:l,f,;uM  1,.  .;i.  ..while  they  strain 
Their  tuneful  tlirn;u   ,  ii„    i,,„,  ,  „,„.,  l,„„vy  lead 
O'ertakes  their  s|i  .  I      i    .      '.   I ln-ir  little  lives 
Above  the  clou,  is  in.  >i|,ii.i,ii  i,,  rarth. 


EARLY,  IT   FORETELLS   PLBNTy. 

The  woodcock's  early  visit,  and  abode 
Of  long  continuance  in  our  temperate  clime. 
Foretell  a  liberal  harvest  ;  he  of  times 
Intelligent,  the  harsh  Hyperborean  ice 
Shuns  for  our  equal  winters  ;  when  our  suns 
Cleave  the  chilled  soil,  he  backward  wings  his  way 
To  Scandinavian  frozen  summers,  meet 
For  his  numbed  blood. 

SNOW  AS  A   FERTILIZER  ;    NITRE. 

But  nothing  profits  more 
Than  frequent  snows  :  0,  mayst  thou  often  see 
Thy  furrows  whitened  by  the  woolly  rain. 
Nutritious  !  secret  nitre  lurks  within 
The  porous  wet,  quickening  the  languid  glebe. 


Sometimes  thou  shalt  with  fervent  vows  implore 
A  moderate  wind  ;  the  orchard  loves  to  wave 
With  winter  winds,  before  the  germs  exert 
Their  feeble  heads  ;  the  loosened  roots  then  drink 
Large  increment,  earnest  of  happy  years. 


Nor  will  it  nothing  profit  to  observe 
The  monthly  stars,  their  powerful  influence 
O'er  planted  fields,  what  vegetables  reign 
Under  each  sign.     On  our  account  has  Jove, 
Indulgent,  to  all  moons  some  succulent  plant 
Allotted,  that  poor,  helpless  man  might  slack 
His  present  thirst,  and  matter  find  for  toil. 
Now  will  the  corinths,  now  the  rasps  supply 
Delicious  draughts  ;  the  quinces  now,  or  plums. 
Or  cherries,  or  the  fair  Thisbeian  fruit. 
Are  prest  to  wines  ;  the  Britons  squeeze  the  works 
Of  sedulous  bees,  and  mixing  odorous  herbs 
Prepare  balsamic  cups,  to  wheezing  lungs 
Medicinal,  and  short-breathed  ancient  sires. 

DRINKS  MADE  FROM  BIRCH,  COWSLIPS,  ETC. 

But,  if  thou  'rt  indefatigably  bent 
To  toil,  and  omnifarious  drinks  wouldst  brew  ; 
Besides  the  orchard,  every  hedge  and  bush 
Affords  assistance  ;  even  afflictive  birch. 
Cursed  by  unlettered,  idle  youth,  distils 
A  limpid  current  from  her  wounded  bark. 
Profuse  of  nursing  sap.     When  solar  beams 
Parch  thirsty  human  veins,  the  damasked  meads 
Unforced  display  ten  thousand  painted  flowers 
Useful  in  potables.     Thy  little  sons 
Permit  to  range  the  pastures  ;  gladly  they 
Will  mow  the  cowslip-posies,  faintly  sweet. 
From  whence  thou  artificial  wines  shalt  drain 
Of  icy  taste,  that,  in  mid  fervors,  bust 
Slack  craving  thirst,  and  mitigate  the  day. 


Happy  Icrnr-,  wl 
Poisons  en;  rii..inr 
The  baleful  b  i  . 
Morchapp;  n 
With  miscdhuiu„u 
For  thirst-abating 
Extend  her  fame,  and 


.n-lits  (enriched 
id  the  root 
praised),  which  wide 
each  drooping  heart 


Present  redress,^  and  lively  health  convey. 


See,  how  the  Beige,  sedulous,  and  stout, 
With  bowls  of  fat'ning  mum,  or  blissful  cups 
Of  Kernell-relishcd  fluids,  the  fair  star 
Of  early  Phosphorous  salute,  at  noon 
Jocund  with  frequent-rising  fumes  !  by  use 
Instructed,  thus  to  quell  their  native  phlegm 
Prevailing,  and  engender  wayward  mirth. 

1  Relief. 


AUTUMN  —  NOVEMBER. 


387 


THE  iBCnC  80.VB  i   ITS  SRI.VK9  ;   FITCDOIU  ;   BRANDY. 

What  nood  to  treat  of  distant  climos,  removed 
Far  from  the  sloping  journey  of  the  year, 
lieyond  Pe(«ora,  and  Icelandic  coast«7 
Where  cver-during  snows,  perpetual  shades 
Of  darkness,  would  congeal  their  livid  blood, 
Did  not  the  Arctic  tract  spontaneous  yield 
A  cheering  purple  berry,  big  with  wine. 
Intensely  fervent,  which  each  hour  they  crave, 
Spread  round  a  flaming  pile  of  pines  ;  and  oft 
They  interlard  their  native  drinks  with  choice 
Of  strongest  brandy ;  yet  scarce  with  these  aids 
Enabled  to  prevent  the  sudden  rot 
Of  freezing  nose,  and  quick-decaying  feet. 

TDK  TROPICS  ;  THE  NILK  ;   CKVLO.S  ;   DOBXKO  j   BIM  ;  ABRAK. 

Nor  less  the  sable  borderers  of  Nile, 
Nor  who  Taprobane  manure,  nor  they 
Whom  sunny  Borneo  bears,  are  stored  with  streams 
Egregious,  rum,  and  rice's  spirit  extract. 
Tor  here,  exposed  to  perpendicular  rays. 
In  vain  they  covet  shades,  and  Thrascias"  gales, 
Pining  with  equinoctial  heat,  unless 
The  cordial  glass  perpetual  motion  keep, 
Quick  circuiting  ;  nor  dare  they  close  their  eyes. 
Void  of  a  bulky  charger  near  their  lips, 
With  which,  in  often  interrupted  sleep. 
Their  frying  blood  compels  to  irrigate 
Their  dry-furred  tongues,  else  minutely  to  death 
Obnoxious,  dismal  death,  the  effect  of  drought ! 

THE  WEST  ISDIA  DBISKS  ;   LKMOXABE  i   rfXCH  ;   IMBIBED  BY 

More  happy  they,  bom  in  Columbus'  world, 
Caribbees,  and  they  whom  the  cotton  plant 
Witb  downy-sprouting  vcst.<  arrays  !     Their  woods 
Bow  with  prodigious  nuts,  that  give  at  once 
Celestial  food  and  nectar  j  then,  at  hand 
The  Lemon,  uncorrupt  with  voyage  Ion", 
To  vinous  spirits  added  (heavenly  drink  !), 
They  with  pneumatic  engine  ceaseless  draw, 
Intent  on  laughter  ;  a  continual  tide 
Flows  from  the  exhilarating  fount.     As,  when 
Against  a  secret  cliff  with  soddain  shock 
A  ship  is  dashed,  and  leaking  drinks  the  sea, 
The  astonished  mariners  aye  ply  the  pump, 
No  stay,  nor  rest,  till  the  wide  breach  is  closed  : 
.^o  they  (but  cheerful)  unfatigued,  still  move 
The  draining  sucker,  then  alone  concerned, 
AVhen  the  dry  bowl  forbids  their  pleasing  work. 

now  TO  SEASON  CIDSB,  AND  now  LONO. 

But  if  to  hoarding  thou  art  bent,  thy  hopes 
Arc  frustrate,  shouldst  thou  think  thy  pipes  will  flow 
With  early  limpid  wine.     The  hoarded  store. 
And  the  harsh  draught,  must  twice  endure  the  sun's 
Kind   strengthening  heat,   twice  Winter's  purging 
cold. 
jnxcLixa  OF  tabiocs  ciders.  — toe  rainbow. 
There  are,  that  a  compounded  fluid  drain 
From  different  mixtures.  Woodcock,  Pippin,  Moile, 


Rough  Eliot,  sweet  Permain  ;  the  blended  streams 

(Each  mutually  correcting  each)  create 

A  pleasurable  medley,  of  what  tasto 

Hardly  distinguished  ;  as  the  showery  nrcli. 

With  lifted  colors  gay.  Or,  Azure,  (lules, 

Ileliglits,  and  puzzles  the  beholder's  eye, 

That  views  the  watery  brede,  with  thousand  shows 

Of  pninturo  varied,  yet's  unskilled  to  tell 

Or  where  one  color  rises,  or  one  faints. 

VABIETV  I.V  TBE  FLAVOR  OF  CIDER  ;  MALAGA  ■,  COAMPJGNE  ; 
noCK. 

Some  ciders  have  by  art,  or  age,  unlearned 
Their  genuine  relish,  and  of  sundry  vines 
As.'iumcd  the  flavor  :  one  sort  counterfeits 
The  Spanish  product  ;  this,  to  Gauls  has  seemed 

The    I  :iri;lir,_'  i,,  <  t.r  of  Champagne  ;  with  that, 
-^''  "i lied  his  throat,  and  sworn, 

'''  '  '  1  lal  Rhine  bestowed 

A'"'  -n.i.u    1  nipiiiirr,  whilst  the  owner,  pleased, 
Laujj'lis  inly  iit  his  guests,  thus  entertained 
With  foreign  vintage  from  his  cider  cask. 

CIDEB  MCST  BE  ALLOWED  TO  WOBK. 

Soon  as  thy  liquor  from  the  narrow  cells 
Of  close-pressed  husks  is  freed,  thou  must  refrain 
Thy  thirsty  soul  ;   let  none  persuade  to  broach 
Thy  thick,  unwholesome,  undigested  cades  : 
The  hoary  frosts  and  northern  blasts  take  care 
Thy  muddy  beverage  to  serene,  and  drive 
Precipitant  the  baser,  ropy  lees. 

CIDEB  SBOCLD  SETTLE  ON  ITS   LEES  !  TOES   BE  DBAWN  OFF  : 


And  now  thy  wine 's  transpicuous,  purged  from  all 
It 's  earthy  gross,  yet  let  it  feed  a  while 
On  the  fat  refuse,  lest,  too  soon  disjoined 
From  sprightly,  it  to  sharp  or  vapid  change. 
When  to  convenient  vigor  it  attains, 
SufKce  it  to  provide  a  brazen  tube 
Inflexcd  ;  aclf-taught  and  voluntary  flics 
The  defecated  liquor,  through  the  vent 
Ascending,  then,  by  downward  tract  conveyed. 
Spouts  into  subject  vessels,  lovely  clear. 
As  when  a  noontide  sun,  with  summer  beams. 
Darts  through  a  cloud,  her  watery  skirts  are  edged 
With  lucid  amber,  or  nndrossy  gold  : 
So,  and  so  richly,  the  purged  liquid  shines. 

BOTTLING  OF  CTOER  ;  CLASS  BOTTLES  ;  A  DESCRIPTION  OF 


Now,  also,  when  the  colds  abate,  nor  yet 
Full  Summer  shines,  a  dubious  season,  close 
In  glass  thy  purer  streams,  and  let  them  gain, 
From  due  confinement,  spirit  and  flavor  new. 

For  this  intent,  the  subtle  chymist  feeds 
Perpetual  flames,  whose  unresisted  force 
O'er  sand,  and  ashes,  and  the  stubborn  flint. 
Prevailing,  turns  into  a  fusil  sea. 
That  in  his  furnace  bubbles  sunny  red  : 
From  hence  a  glowing  drop,  with  hollowed  steel. 
He  takes,  and  by  one  efficacious  breath 


RURAL  POETRY.  - 


Dilates  to  a  surprising  cube,  or  sphere, 
Or  oval,  and  fit  receptacles  forms 
Eor  every  liquid,  with  his  plastic  lungs, 
To  human  life  subservient. 


By  his  means 
Ciders  in  metal  frail  improve  ;  the  Jloile, 
And  tasteful  Pippin,  in  a  moon's  short  year, 
Ac(iuiie  complete  perfection  :  now  they  smoke 
Transparent,  sparkling  in  each  drop,  delight 
Of  curious  palate,  by  fair  virgins  craved. 
But  harsher  fluids  different  lengths  of  time 
Expect :  thy  flask  will  slowly  mitigate 
The  Eliot's  roughness.     Stirom,  firmest  fruit, 
Embottled,  long  as  Priameian  Troy 
Withstood  the  Greeks,  endures,  ere  justly  mild. 


Softened  by  age,  it  youthful  vigor  gains, 
Fallacious  drink  !     Ye  honest  men,  beware, 
Nor  trust  its  smoothness  ;  the  third  circling  gla 
Sufiices  virtue  :  but  may  hypocrites 
(That  slyly  speak  one  thing,  another  think. 
Hateful  as  hell),  pleased  with  the  relish  weak, 
Drink  on  unwarned,  till  by  enchanting  cups 
Infatuate,  they  their  wily  thoughts  disclose, 
And  through  intemperance  grow  a  while  sincere 


The  farmer's  toil  is  done  ;   his  cades  mature 
Now  call  for  vent,  his  lands  exhaust  permit 
To  indulge  a  while.     Now  solemn  rites  he  pays 
To  Bacchus,  author  of  heart-cheering  mirth. 
His  honest  friends,  at  thirsty  hour  of  dusk, 
Come  uninvited  ;   he  with  bounteous  hand 
Imparts  his  smoking  vintage,  sweet  reward 
Of  his  own  industry  ;   the  well-fraught  bowl 
Circles  incessant,  whilst  the  humble  cell 
With  quavering  laugh  and  rural  jests  resounds. 
Ease,  and  content,  and  undissembled  love, 
Shine  in  each  face  ;  the  thoughts  of  labor  passed 
Increase  their  joy.     As,  from  retentive  cage 
When  sullen  Philomel  escapes,  her  notes 
She  varies,  and  of  passed  imprisonment 
Sweetly  complains  ;   her  liberty  retrieved 
Cheers  her  sad  soul,  improves  her  pleasing  song. 
Gladsome  they  quaff,  yet  nut  exceed  the  bounds 
Of  healthy  temperance,  nor  encroach  on  night, 
Season  of  rest,  but  well  bedewed  repair 
Each  to  his  home,  with  unsupplantcd  feet. 
Ere  heaven's  emblazoned  by  the  rosy  dawn 
Domestic  cares  awake  them  ;   brisk  they  rise. 
Refreshed,  and  lively  with  the  joys  that  fiow 
From  amicable  talk,  and  moderate  cups 
Sweetly  interchanged. 

EFFECTS   OF   GOOD    CmER,   ON  THE   LOVER,  DEBTOR,    POET. 

The  pining  lover  finds 
Present  redress,  and  long  oblivion  drinks 


Lueinda      Give  the  debtor  wine  ; 
^     Tit     h  It    and  few  ;  yet  when  he  drinks 
I  I  I    hi        the  flowing  glasses  add 
II   It   11  ih      ULit^nificent  in  tho^ight. 


Noi  can  the  poet  Bacchus'  praise  indite, 
Dtb\ried  hib  giape     the  muses  still  require 
Humid  legalement,  nor  will  aught  avail 
Imploring  Phoebus  with  unmoistened  lips. 


Thus  to  the  generous  bottle  all  incline. 
By  parching  thirst  allured  :  with  vehement  suns 
When  dusty  Summer  bakes  the  crumbling  clods, 
How  pleasant  is't,  beneath  the  twisted  arch 
Of  a  retreating  bower,  in  mid-day's  reign 
To  ply  the  sweet  carouse,  remote  from  noise, 
Secured  of  feverish  heats  !     When  the  aged  year 
Inclines,  and  Boreas'  spirit  blusters  frore. 
Beware  the  inclement  heavens  ;  now  let  thy  hearth 
Crackle  with  juiceloss  boughs  ;   thy  lingering  blood 
Now  instigate  with  the  apple's  powerful  streams. 

IN-DOOR   ENJOYMENTS. —DECEMBER  1    BCSOM   DANCES. 

Perpetual  showers  and  stormy  gusts  confine 
The  willing  ploughmnn,  and  December  warns 
To  annual  jollities  ;   now  sportive  youth 
Carol  incondite  rhythms,  with  suiting  notes. 


Shaking  their  brawny  limbs,  with  uncouth 
Transported,  and  sometimes  an  oblique  leei 
Dart  on  their  loves,  sometimes  an  hasty  ki: 
Steal  from  unwary  lasses  ;  they  with  scorn 
And  neck  reclined,  resent  the  ravished  hVu 


Meanwiiil'.  MumI  K;  m-li  La  i^^  with  volant  tone 
Traverse  I.-,.,...  :■  i,      i !  .■,  j -,  \^  im-r  .-nlnnn  notes 
Provoke  tn  K.m  ;!.;■    ■  ; .  ,  >  1  ■  -,    ihr.-r  among 
A  subtle  aiu^l  .-iaiui>,  in  uumlruus  bug, 
That  bears  imprisoned  winds  (of  gentler  sort 
Than  those  which  erst  Laertes'  son  enclosed). 
Peaceful  they  sleep  ;    but  let  the  tuneful  squeeze 
Of  laboring  elbow  rouse  them,  out  they  fly 
Melodious,  and  with  sprightly  accents  charm. 


WINTER  AND   SPRING    CIDER-DBTNKING. — THANKSGIVING. 

'Midst  these  disports,  forget  they  not  to  drench 
Themselves  with  bellying  goblets,  nor  when  Spring 
Returns,  can  they  refuse  to  usher  in 
The  fresh-born  year  with  loud  acclaim,  and  store 
Of  jovial  draughts,  now,  when  the  sappy  boughs 
Attire  themselves  with  blooms,  sweet  rudiments 
Of  future  harvest  :  when  the  Gnossian  crown 
Leads  on  expected  Autumn,  and  the  trees 
Discharge  their  mellow  burthens,  let  them  thank 
Boon  nature,  that  thus  annually  supplies 


Thoir  vaults,  and  with  her  former  liquid  gifts 
Exhilarate  their  languid  ininda,  within 
The  golden  mean  confined  :  heyond,  there 's  naught 
or  health  or  pleasure. 

KXnOKTiTIOS  TO  THMPEIiiSCI!.—  DRCSKEXSKSS.—  QIARHBLS. 

Therefore,  when  thy  heart 
Dilates  with  fervent  joys,  and  eager  soul 
Prompts  to  pursue  the  sparkling  gloss,  be  sure 
'T  is  time  to  shun  it ;   if  thou  wilt  prolong 
Dire  compotation,  forthwith  reason  quits 
Her  empire  to  confusion,  and  misrule, 
And  vain  debates  ;  then  twenty  tongues  at  onco 
Conspire  in  senseless  jargon,  naught  is  heard 
But  din,  and  various  clamor,  and  mad  rant : 
Distrust  and  jealousy  to  these  succeed. 
And  anger-kindling  taunt,  the  certain  bano 
Of  well-knit  fellowship. 

SOME  or    THE    noRROBS    Of    IXTKMPERASCE  i     DRCXKES 


Now  horrid  frays 
Commence,  the  brimming  glasses  now  are  hurled 
With  dire  intent ;  bottles  with  bottles  clash 
In  rude  encounter,  round  their  temples  fly    [checks 
The  sharp-edged   fragments,  down    their   battered 
Mixed  gore  and  cider  flow  :  what  shall  wo  say 
Of  rash  Elpenor,  who  in  evil  hour 
Dried  an  immeasurable  bowl,  and  thought 
To  exhale  his  surfeit  by  irriguous  sleep, 
Imprudent  ?     Ilim,  Death's  iron-sleep  oppressed, 
Descending  careless  from  his  couch  ;   the  fall 
Luxed  his  neok-joint,  and  spinal  marrow  bruised. 


Xor  need  we  tell  what  anxious  cares  attend 
The  turbulent  mirth  of  wine  ;  nor  all  the  kinds 
Of  maladies,  that  lead  to  Death's  grim  cave, 
Wrought  by  intemperance,  joint-racking  gout, 
Intestine  stone,  and  pining  atrophy, 
Chill,  even  when  the  sun  with  July  heats 
Fries  the  scorched  soil,  and  dropsy  all  afloat, 
Yet  craving  liquids  :  nor  the  Centaurs'  tale 
Be  here  repeated  ;  how,  with  lust  and  wine 
Inflamed,  they  fought,  and  spilt  thoir  drunken  souls 
At  feasting  hour.     Yo  heavenly  powers  that  guard 
The  British  isles,  such  dire  events  remove 
Far  from  fair  Albion,  nor  let  civil  broils 
Ferment  from  social  cups  :  may  we,  remote 
From  the  hoarse,  brazen  sound  of  war,  enjoy 
Our  humid  products,  and  with  seemly  draughts 
Enkindle  mirth,  and  hospitable  love. 


CIVIL  wjR.  — rrs  CArsB.  — ITS  crRSK.— the  civil 

Too  oft,  alas  !  has  mutual  hatred  drenched 
Our  swords  in  native  blood,  too  oft  has  pride, 
And  hellish  discord,  and  insatiate  thirst 
Of  others'  rights,  our  quiet  discomposed. 
Have  we  forgot  how  fell  destruction  raged 
Wide-spreading,  when  by  Eris'  torch  incensed 


Our  fathers  warred  ?    What  heroes,  signalized 
For  loyalty  and  prowess,  met  their  fate 
Untimely,  undeserved  !     How  Bertie  fell, 
Conipton,  and  Granvill,  dauntless  sons  of  Mars, 
Fit  themes  of  endless  grief,  but  that  wo  view 
Their  virtues  yet  surviving  in  their  race  ! 

U.SDBR  CROMWELL. 


Can  we  forget  how  the  mad,  headstrong  rout 
Defied  their  prince  to  anus,  nor  made  account 
Of  faith,  or  duty,  or  allegiance  sworn  ? 
Apostate,  atheist  rebels  !  bent  to  ill. 
With  seeming  sanctity,  and  covered  fraud, 
Instilled  by  him  who  first  presumed  to  oppose 
Omnipotence  ;  alike  their  crime,  the  event 
M'as  not  alike  ;  these  triumphed,  and  in  hei;^ht 
Of  barbarous  malice,  and  insulting  pride, 
Abstained  not  from  imperial  blood. 


0,  fact 
Unparalleled  !     0,  Charles  !     0,  best  of  kings  ! 
What  stars  their  black,  disastrous  influence  shod 
On  thy  nativity,  that  thou  shouldst  fall 
Thus,  by  inglorious  hands,  in  this  thy  realm. 
Supreme,  and  innocent,  adjudged  to  death 
By  those  thy  mercy  only  would  have  saved  ! 
Y'ct  was  the  cider-land  unstained  with  guilt ; 
The  cider-land,  obsequious  still  to  thrones. 
Abhorred  such  base,  disloyal  deeds,  and  all 
Her  pruning-hooks  extended  into  swords, 
Undaunted,  to  assert  the  trampled  rights 
Of  monarehv  :  but,  ah  \  suceessless  she. 


TBE  REIG.-!    OF    QCEBS  ASSE. 

Now  we  exult,  by  mighty  Anna's  car© 
Secure  at  home,  while  she  to  foreign  realms 
Sends  forth  her  dreadful  legions,  and  restrains 
The  rage  of  kings  :  here,  nobly  she  supports 
Justice  oppressed  ;  hero,  her  victorious  arms 
Quell  the  ambitious  :  from  her  hand  alono 
All  Europe  fears  revenge,  or  hopes  redress. 
Rejoice,  0  Albion  !  severed  from  the  world 
By  Nature's  wise  indulgence,  indigent 
Of  notliing  from  without ;  in  one  supreme 
Entirely  blest ;  and  from  beginning  time 
Designed  thus  happy  ;  but  tho  fond  desire 
Of  rule  and  grandeur  multiplied  a  race 
Of  kings,  and  numerous  sceptres  introduced, 
Destructive  of  the  public  weal  : 


Each  potentate,  as  wary  fear,  or  strength, 
Or  emulation  urged,  his  neighbor's  bounds 
Invades,  and  ampler  territory  seeks 


390 


RURAL    POETRY. 


With  ruinous  assault  ;  on  every  plain 

Host  coped  witli  li--f,  <ln-  ^^.(-  Ml.'  din  of  war. 

And  ceaseless,  or         L    i  l\   procured 

By  havoc  and  di-in  >  .    ill  i    i :    n  \ 
Raised  new  coiiiI^um  id      tlm    \\:i-  peace  in  vain 
Sought  for  by  martial  deeds,  and  conflict  stern  : 
Till  Edgar  grateful  (as,  to  those  who  pine 
A  dismal  half-year  night,  the  orient  beam 
Of  Phoebus'  lamp)  arose,  and  into  one 
Cemented  all  the  long-contending  powers, 
Pacific  monarch  ;  then  her  lovely  head 
Concord  reared  high,  and  all  around  diffused 
The  spirit  of  love;  at  ease,  the  bards  new  strung 
Their  silent  harps,  and  taught  the  woods  and  vales, 
In  uncouth  rhythms,  to  echo  Edgar's  name. 
Then  gladness  smiled  in  every  eye  ;  the  years 
Ran  smoothly  on,  productive  of  a  line 
Of  wise,  heroic  kings,  that  by  just  laws 
Established  happiness  at  home,  or  crushed 
Insulting  enemies  in  furthest  climes. 


See  lion-hearted  Richard,  with  bis  force 
Drawn  from  the  north,  to  Fury's  hallowed  plains  ! 
Piously  valiant  (like  a  torrent  swelled 
AVith  wintry  tempests,  that  disdains  all  mounds, 
Breaking  a  way  impetuous,  and  involves 
Within  its  sweep  trees,  houses,  men),  he  pressed 
Amidst  the  thickest  battle  ;  and  o'erthrew 
Whate'er  withstood  his  zealous  rage  ;  no  pause, 
No  stay  of  slaughter,  found  his  vigorous  arm, 
But  the  unbelieving  squadrons  turned  to  flight 
Smote  in  the  rear,  and  with  dishonest  wounds 
Mangled  behind  :  the  Soldan,  as  he  fled, 
Oft  called  on  Allah,  gnashing  with  despite 
And  shame,  and  murmured  many  an  empty  curse. 


Behold  third  Edward's  streamers  blazing  high 
On  Gallia's  hostile  ground  !  his  right  withheld, 
Awakens  vengeance  ;  0,  imprudent  Gauls, 
Relying  on  false  hopes,  thus  to  incense 
The  warlike  English  !  one  important  day 
Shall  teach  you  meaner  thoughts  :  eager  of  fight, 
Fierce  Brutus'  offspring  to  the  adverse  front 
Advance  resistless,  and  their  deep  ari*ay 
With  furious  inroad  pierce  ;  the  mighty  force 
Of  Edward  twice  o'erturned  their  desperate  king, 
Twice  he  arose,  and  joined  the  horrid  shock  : 
The  third  time,  with  his  wide-extended  wings. 
He  fugitive  declined  superior  strength. 
Discomfited  ;   pursued,  in  the  sad  chase 
Ten  thousands  ignominious  fall  ;   with  blood 
The  valleys  float :  great  Edward  thus  avenged, 
With  golden  Iris  his  broad  shield  embossed. 


ension  spring  ;  from  him 
in  hosting  long  contend 
(and  can  such  anger  dwell 

;   bdt  little  now  availed 
;led 


I  III-  Ti-  -  "1  III'  ii'f-iiip  ;   every  i 

By  iueliuatiou  or  vain  hope,  repaired 

To  either  camp,  and  breathed  immortal  hate 

And  dire  revenge  :  now  horrid  slaughter  reigns  ; 

Sons  against  fathers  tilt  the  fatal  lance, 

Careless  of  duty,  and  their  native  grounds 

Distain  with  kindred  blood  ;  the  twanging  bows 

Send  showers  of  shafts,  that  on  their  barbed  points 

Alternate  ruin  bear.     Here  might  you  see 

Barons  and  peasants  on  the  embattled  field 

Slain,  or  half  dead,  in  one  huge,  ghastly  heap 

Promiscuously  amassed  :  with  dismal  groans, 

And  ejulation,  in  the  pangs  of  death 

Some  call  for  aid,  neglected  ;   some  o'erturned 

In  the  fierce  shock,  lie  gasping,  and  expire. 

Trampled  by  fiery  coursers  ;   horror  thus, 

And  wild  uproar,  and  desolation,  reigned 

Unrespited. 

Ah  !  who  at  length  will  end 
This  long,  pernicious  fray  ?     What  man  has  fate 
Reserved  for  thisgrciit  w.nk  ?  — ll;iil,  happy  prince 
Of  Tudor's  race,  whom  in  ihr  nmnl,  nt  time 
Cadwallador  foresaw  !     'linMi,  Hk.ii  ;iit  he, 
Great  Richmond  Henry,  HkiI  liv  iiiiiili;il  rites 
Must  close  the  gates  of  Jauus,  and  remove 
Destructive  discord  :  now  no  more  the  drum 
Provokes  to  arms,  or  trumpet's  clangor  shrill 
Affrights  tlif  ui\t;-.  m  rliilK  tlie  virgin's  blood  ; 


But 


m'^ 


iig  skill 


Uuiuterrui.tnl  !      \\  ii 

Thou  to  thy  nwu  uuitL'.t  IVi-us'  line 

By  wise  alliauce  ;  from  thee  James  descends, 

Heaven's  chosen  favorite,  first  Britannic  king. 


To  him  alone  hereditary  right 
Gave  power  supreme;  yet  still  some  seeds  rei 
Of  discontent ;  two  nations  under  one, 
i  In  laws  and  interest  diverse,  still  pursued 
Peculiar  ends,  on  each  side  resolute 
To  fly  conjunction  ;  neither  fear,  nor  hope, 
Nor  the  sweet  prospect  of  a  mutual  gain, 
Could  aught  avail,  till  prudent  Anna  said. 
Let  there  be  union  ;  straight  with  reverence  ■ 
To  her  command,  they  willingly  unite. 
One  in  affection,  laws,  and  government, 
Indissolubly  firm  ;   from  Dubris  south. 
To  northern  Orcades,  her  long  domain. 


THE   Wilis   OF   THE  ROSES  ;    HOHKID   SLAUGHTER   OF  KINDRED 

Thrice  glorious  prince  !  whom  B'amo  with  all  her 
tongues  ■ 

Forever  shall  resound.     Yet  from  his  loins 


And  now  thus  leagued  by  an  eternal  bond, 
What  shall  retard  the  Britons'  bold  designs. 
Or  who  sustain  their  force  ;   in  union  knit, 
Sufiicient  to  withstand  the  powers  combined 
Of  all  this  globe  ?     At  this  important  act 


NOVEMBBB. 


391 


Tho  Muuritanion  nnd  Cathainn  kin^ 

Already  tromblo,  and  tho  unbaptiicod  Turk 

Dreads  war  from  utmost  Tbulo  ;  uncontrolled 

Tho  British  navy  through  tho  ocoan  vast 

Shall  wave  her  double  cross,  to  oxtrcmcst  olimca 

Terrific,  and  return  with  odorous  spoils 

Of  Ahiby  well  fraught,  or  Indus'  wealth, 

Pearl,  and  barbario  gold  ;  meanwhilo  tho  swains 

Shall  unmolested  reap,  what  plenty  strews 

From  well-stored  horn,  rich  grain,  and  timely  fruits. 


Tho  elder  year,  Pomona,  pleased,  shall  deck 

With  ruby-tinctured  births,  whoso  liquid  store 

Abundant,  flowing  in  well-blended  streams. 

The  natives  shall  applaud  ;  while  glad  they  talk 

Of  baleful  ills,  caused  by  BcUona's  wrath 

In  other  realms  ;  where'er  the  British  spread 

Triumphant  banners,  or  their  fame  has  reached 

Diffusive,  to  tho  utmost  bounds  of  this 

Wide  universe,  Silurian  Cider  borne 

Shall  pleiise  all  tastes,  and  triumph  o'er  tho  vine. 


cTussfr's  "HolifiiUifr's  iijuslianh'ij 


At  Hallcmtidc,'  sluughter-time  entereth  in. 

And  then  doth  the  husbandman's  feasting  begin  : 

From  thence  unto  Shrovetide,  kill  now  and  th 

Their  ofifall  for  household  the  better  will  como. 
Thy  dredge  «  and  thy  barley  go  thresh  out  to  mo 
Let  maltater  bo  cunning,  else  lose  it  thou  shalt  : 
The  increase  of  a  scam'  is  a  bushel  for  store  ; 
Bad  else  is  tho  barley,  or  huswife  much  more. 
Some  useth  to  winnow,  some  useth  to  fan. 
Some  useth  to  cast  it,  as  clean  as  they  can. 
For  seed  go  and  cast  it ;  for  malting  not  so, 
But  get  out  the  cockle,  and  then  let  it  go. 
Thresh  barley  as  yet  but  as  need  shall  require, 
Fresh  threshed  for  stover,''  thy  cattle  desire  ; 
And  therefore  that  threshing  forbear  as  ye  may 
Till  Candlemas  coming,  for  sparing  of  hay. 
Such  wheat  as  ye  keep,  for  the  baker  to  buy, 
Untbreshed  till  -March,  in  the  sheaf  let  it  lie  ;' 
Lest  foistincss  tjike  it,  if  sooner  ye  thresh  it. 
Although  by  oft  turning  ye  seem  to  refresh  it. 

Save  chaff  of  the  barley,  of  wheat,  and  of  rye. 
From  feathers  and  foistiness,  where  it  doth  lio  ; 
Which  mixed  with  corn,  being  sifted  of  dust, 
Go  give  to  thy  cattle,  when  serve  them  ye  must. 
(Jreen  peason,  or  Hastings,  at  Hallontido  sow, 
In  hearty  good  soil  ho  requireth  to  grow  : 
Gray  peason  or  runcivals,^  checrly  to  stand. 
At  Candlemas  sow,  with  a  plentiful  hand. 
Leave  latewardly  rearing,  keep  now  no  more  swii 
But  such  as  thou  mayst  with  the  offal  of  thine. 
E.tcept  ye  have  wherewith  to  fat  them  away. 
The  fewer  thou  kecpest,  keep  better  ye  may. 


s  One  bushel  to  a  seam,  or  quarler,  Increase  to  the  mal 

ster,  though  coDSidcrable  is  deemed  moderate.  —  Mavor. 

<  St.ncr  Is  fodiler  of  stniw  ;  ruiiclvals,  a  favorite  pea. 

^  Wheat  worlcs  better  in  grinding  and  baking  after  uodc 


To  rear  up  much  poultry,  and  want  the  barn  door. 
Is  naught  for  tho  poulter,  and  worse  for  tho  poor  ; 
So  now  to  keep  hogs,  and  to  starve  them  for  meat. 
Is  as  to  keep  dogs  for  to  bawl  in  tho  street. 

As  cat  a  good  mouser  is  needful  in  house, 
Because  for  her  commons  she  killeth  the  mouse  ; 
So  ravening  curs,  as  a  many  do  keep, 
Makes  master  want  meat,  and  his  dog  to  kill  sheep. 
For  Easter,  at  Martilmas,  hang  up  a  beef,^ 
For  stall-fed  and  pease-fed  play  pickpurse  tho  thief  : 
With  that  and  the  like,  ere  an  grass  beef  como  in, 
Thy  folk  shall  look  cheerly,  when  others  look  thin. 
Set  garlic  and  beans  at  St.  Edmond  the  king,2 
The  moon  in  the  wane,  thereon  hangeth  a  thing  : 
The  encrease  of  a  pottle  (well  proved  of  some) 
Shall  pleasure  thy  household,  ere  peasecod  time 

When  rain  is  a  let  to  thy  doings  abroad. 

Set  threshers  a  threshing,  to  lay  on  good  load  : 

Thresh  clean  ye  must  bid  them,  though  lesser  they 

And,  looking  to  thrive,  have  an  eye  to  thy  barn. 
Take  heed  to  thy  man,  in  his  fury  and  heat. 
With  ploughstaff  and  whipstock  for  maiming  thy 

To  thresher  for  hurting  of  cow  with  his  flail, 
Or  making  thy  hen  to  play  tapple  up  tail. 
Some  pilfering  thresher  will  walk  with  a  staff, 
Will  carry  home  corn  as  it  is  in  the  chaff  ; 
And  some  in  his  bottle  of  leather  so  great 
Will  carry  home,  daily,  both  barley  and  wheat. 
If  house-room  will  servo  thee,  lay  stover  up  dry. 
And  every  sort,  by  itself  for  to  lie  ; 
Or  stack  it  for  litter,  if  room  bo  too  poor, 
And  thatch  out  the  residue  noying  thy  door.  *  * 

1  Hung  or  smoke-dried  beef  was  formerly  much  more  in 
use  in  England  than  at  present.  —  Mftvor. 
'  St.  Edmund's  day  is  the  20th  November. 


§;ill:iti  for  IToiicmbcr. 


CRABBE'S  "GYPSY." 

Take,  take  away  thy  barbarous  hand, 
And  let  me  to  thy  master  speak  ; 

Remit  a  while  the  harsh  command. 
And  hear  me,  or  my  heart  will  break. 


Fond  wretch  !  and  what  canst  thou  relate. 
But  deeds  of  sorrow,  shame,  and  sin  ? 

Thy  crime  is  proved,  thou  knoVst  thy  fate  ; 
But  come,  thy  tale  !  begin,  begin  !  — 

My  crime  !  this  siok'ning  child  to  feed, 

I  seized  the  food,  your  witness  saw  ; 
I  knew  your  laws  forbade  the  deed, 

But  yielded  to  a  stronger  law. 
KnoVst  thou  to  Nature's  great  command 

All  human  laws  are  frail  and  weak  ? 
Nay  !  frown  not  —  stay  his  eager  hand. 

And  hear  me,  or  my  heart  will  break. 
In  this,  th'  adopted  babe  I  hold 

With  anxious  fondness  to  my  breast, 
My  heart's  sole  comfort  I  behold. 

More  dear  than  life,  when  life  was  blest. 
I  saw  her  pining,  fainting,  cold, 

I  begged  —  but  vain  was  my  request. 
I  saw  the  tempting  food,  and  seized  — 

My  infant  sufferer  found  relief  ; 
And,  in  the  pilfered  treasure  pleased, 

Smiled  on  my  guilt,  and  hushed  my  grief. 
But  I  have  griefs  of  other  kind. 

Troubles  and  sorrows  more  severe  ; 
Give  me  to  ease  my  tortured  mind. 

Lend  to  my  woes  a  patient  ear  ; 
And  let  me,  if  I  may  not  find 

A  friend  to  help,  find  one  to  hear. 
Yet  nameless  let  me  plead  —  my  name 

Would  only  wake  the  cry  of  scorn  ; 
A  child  of  sin,  conceived  in  shame, 

Brought  forth  in  woe,  to  misery  born. 
My  mother  dead,  my  father  lost, 

I  wandered  with  a  vagrant  crew  ; 
A  common  care,  a  common  cost, 

Their  sorrows  and  their  sins  I  knew  ; 
With  them,  on  want  and  error  forced. 

Like  them,  I  base  and  guilty  grew. 
Few  are  my  years,  not  so  my  crimes  ; 

The  age,  which  these  sad  looks  declare, 
Is  sorrow's  work,  it  is  not  time's. 

And  I  am  old  in  shame  and  care. 
Taught  to  believe  the  world  a  place 

Where  every  stranger  was  a  foe. 


Trained  in  the  arts  that  mark  our  race. 

To  what  new  people  could  I  go  ? 
Could  I  a  better  life  embrace. 

Or  live  as  virtue  dictates  ?     No  !  — 
So  through  the  land  I  wandering  went. 

And  little  found  of  grief  or  joy  ; 
But  lost  my  bosom's  sweet  content, 

When  first  I  loved  the  Gypsy-boy. 
A  sturdy  youth  he  was  and  tall. 

His  looks  would  all  his  soul  declare, 
His  piercing  eyes  were  deep  and  small. 

And  strongly  curled  his  raven  hair. 
Yes,  Aaron  had  each  manly  charm. 

All  in  the  May  of  youthful  pride  ; 
He  scarcely  feared  his  father's  arm. 

And  every  other  arm  defied.  — 
Oft  when  they  grew  in  auger  warm 

(Whom  will  not  love  and  power  divide ': 
I  rose,  their  wrathful  souls  to  calm, 

Not  yet  in  sinful  combat  tried. 
His  father  was  our  party's  chief, 

And  dark  and  dreadful  was  his  look  ; 
His  presence  filled  my  heart  with  grief, 

Although  to  me  he  kindly  spoke. 
With  Aaron  I  delighted  went. 

His  favor  was  my  bliss  and  pride  ; 
In  growing  hope  our  days  were  spent, 

Love  growing  charms  in  either  spied  ; 
It  saw  them  all  which  nature  lent. 

It  lent  them  all  which  she  denied. 
Could  I  the  father's  kindness  prize, 

Or  grateful  looks  on  him  bestow  ; 
Whom  I  beheld  in  wrath  arise. 

When  Aaron  sank  beneath  his  blow  ? 
He  drove  him  down  with  wicked  hand. 

It  was  a  dreadful  sight  to  see  ; 
Then  vexed  him,  till  he  left  the  land. 

And  told  his  cruel  love  to  me  ;  — 
The  clan  were  all  at  his  command. 

Whatever  his  command  might  be. 
The  night  was  dark,  the  lanes  were  deep, 

And  one  by  one  they  took  their  way  ; 
He  bade  me  lay  me  down  and  sleep,  — 

I  only  wept  and  wished  for  day. 
Accursed  be  the  love  he  bore, — 

Accursed  was  the  force  he  used, — 
So  let  him  of  his  God  implore 

For  mercy,  and  be  so  refused  ! 
Y'ou  frown  again,  —  to  show  my  wrong, 

Can  I  in  gentle  language  speak  ? 
My  woes  are  deep,  my  words  are  strong, — 
And  hear  me,  or  my  heart  will  break. 


AUTUMN  —  NOVEMBER. 


lUGISTKATB. 

I  hear  thy  words,  I  fool  thy  pain  ; 

Forbear  awbilo  to  speak  thy  woes  ; 
Receivo  our  aid,  and  then  again 

Tho  story  of  thy  life  disclose. 
For  though,  scduecd  and  led  astray, 

Thou  'st  travelled  far  and  wandered  long. 
Thy  Uod  hath  seou  thoo  all  tho  way, 

And  all  the  turns  that  led  thee  wrong. 
Come,  now  again  thy  woes  impart, 

Tell  all  thy  sorrows,  all  thy  sin  ; 
Wo  cannot  heal  the  throbbing  heart. 

Till  we  discern  tho  wounds  within. 
Cumpunetion  weeps  our  guilt  away, 

Tho  sinner's  safety  is  bis  pain  ; 
Our  pangs  for  our  offences  pay, 

And  our  severest  griefs  are  gain. 

Tho  son  came  back  —  he  found  us  wed, 

Then  dreadful  was  tho  oath  he  swore  ;  — 
His  way  through  Blackburn  Forest  led,  — 

His  father  wo  beheld  no  more. 
Of  all  our  daring  clan,  not  one 

Would  on  tho  doubtful  subject  dwell ; 
For  all  esteemed  the  injured  son, 

And  feared  the  tale  which  ho  could  tell. 
But  1  had  mightier  cause  for  fear. 

For  slow  and  mournful  round  my  bed 
I  saw  a  dreadful  form  appear,  — 

It  came  when  1  and  Aaron  wed. 
(Yes  !  wo  were  wed  ;  I  know  my  crime,  — 

Wo  slept  beneath  the  Elmin-treo  ; 
But  I  was  grieving  all  the  time. 

And  Aaron  frowned  my  tears  to  see. 
For  ho  not  yet  had  felt  the  pain 

That  rankles  in  a  wounded  breast  ; 
He  waked  to  sin,  then  slept  again. 

Forsook  his  God,  yet  took  his  rest. 
But  I  was  forced  to  feign  delight, 

And  joy  in  mirth  and  music  sought,  — 
And  mem'ry  now  recalls  the  night, 

With  such  surprise  and  horror  fraught. 
That  reason  felt  a  moment's  flight, 

And  left  a  mind,  to  madness  wrought.) 
When  waking,  on  my  heaving  breast 

I  felt  a  hand  as  cold  as  death  ; 
A  sudden  fear  my  voice  suppressed, 

A  chilling  terror  stopped  my  breath. 
I  seemed  —  no  words  can  utter  how  ! 

For  there  my  father-husband  stood, — 
And  thus  he  said  :  '  Will  God  allow. 

The  great  Avenger,  just  and  good, 
A  wife  to  break  her  marriage  vow? 

A  son  to  shed  his  father's  blood?  ' 
I  trembled  at  tho  dismal  sounds. 

But  vainly  strove  a  word  to  say  ; 
So,  pointing  to  his  bleeding  wounds, 

Tho  threat'ning  spectre  stalked  away. 
I  brought  a  lovely  daughter  forth. 

His  father's  child  in  Aaron's  bed  : 


Ho  took  her  from  mo  in  bis  wrath.  — 

'  Whore  is  my  child  ? '  — '  Thy  child  is  dead.' 
'Twas  false  —  we  wandered  far  and  wide. 

Through  town  and  country,  field  and  fen. 
Till  Aaron,  fighting,  fell  and  died, 

And  1  became  a  wife  again. 
I  then  was  young  ;  —  my  husband  sold 

My  fancied  charms  for  wicked  price  ; 
Ho  gave  me  oft,  for  sinful  gold. 

The  slave,  but  not  the  friend,  of  vice  :  — 
Behold  me,  Heaven  !  my  pains  behold, 

And  let  them  for  my  sin.t  suffice  ! 
Tho  wretch  who  lent  m.'  tlm--  f"r  ;;.iin 

Despised  mo  wlii  II  iii\   \. mli  «,.-  Ilnl  ; 
Then  came  di8e:i.-^c  a  1 1  1  i.p  luhi  m-  pain:  — 

Come,  death,  and  1"  ar  lu.   in  iIp-  dead  ! 
For,  though  I  grieve,  my  grief  is  vain. 

And  fruitless  all  tho  tears  I  shed. 
True,  I  was  not  to  virtue  trained, 

Yet  well  T  kne\v  my  deeds  were  ill  ; 
By  eaeh  uiTeneu  my  heart  was  pained,  — 

I  wept,  but  I  oft'ended  still  ; 
My  better  thoughts  my  life  disdained. 

But  yet  the  viler  led  my  will. 
My  husband  died,  and  now  no  moro 

My  smile  was  sought,  or  asked  my  hand  ; 
A  widowed  vagrant,  vile  and  poor. 

Beneath  a  vagrant's  vile  command. 
Ceaseless  I  roved  the  country  round. 

To  win  my  bread  by  fraiulful  arts. 
And  long  a  poor  suK-i-irn  ■.   inuiui. 

By  spreading  net-  Im-  -mii  I.'  h.  ail-. 
Though  poor,  and  iilijri  i.  an^l  .1.  .-|,i.l.,1, 

Their  fortunes  to  the  crowd  i  tuld  ; 
I  gave  the  young  the  love  they  prized. 

And  promised  wealth  to  bless  the  old  ; 
Schemes  for  the  doubtful  I  devised. 

And  charms  for  the  forsaken  sold. 
At  length,  for  arts  like  these  confined 

In  prison  with  a  lawless  crew, 
I  soon  perceived  u  kindred  mind. 

And  there  my  long-lost  daughter  knew. 
His  father's  child,  whom  Aaron  gavo 

To  wander  with  a  distant  elan. 
The  miseries  of  the  world  to  bravo, 

And  bo  tho  slave  of  vice  and  man. 
She  knew  my  name  —  wo  met  in  pain, 

Our  parting  pangs  can  I  express  7 

And  left  an  heir  to  her  distress. 
This  is  that  heir  to  shame  and  pain, 

For  whom  I  only  could  descry 
A  world  of  trouble  and  disdain  : 

Y'ct  could  I  bear  to  see  her  die, 
Or  stretch  her  feeble  hands  in  vain. 

And  weeping  beg  of  me  supply  7 
No  !  though  the  fate  thy  mother  knew 

Was  shameful  !  shameful  though  thy  race 
Have  wandered  all,  a  lawless  crew. 

Outcasts,  despised  in  every  plaoo  ; 


50 


KURAL  POETRY.  —  CRABBE. LONGFELLOW. 


Yet  as  the  dark  and  muddy  tide, 

AVhen  far  from  its  polluted  source. 
Becomes  more  pure,  and  purified, 

Flows  in  a  clear  and  happy  course  ; 
In  thee,  dear  infant !  so  may  end 

Our  shame,  in  thee  our  sorrows  cease  ! 
And  thy  pure  course  will  then  extend, 

In  floods  of  joy,  o'er  vales  of  peace. 
0  !  by  the  God  who  loves  to  spare, 

Deny  me  not  the  boon  I  crave  : 
Let  this  loved  child  your  mercy  share, 

And  let  me  find  a  peaceful  grave  ; 
Make  her  yet  spotless  soul  your  care. 

And  let  my  sins  their  portion  have  ; 
Her  for  a  better  fate  prepare. 

And  punish  whom  't  were  sin  to  save  ! 


Command  thy  heart  and  bend  thy  kr 
There  is  to  all  a  pardon  brr.u;iht, 

A  ransom  rifli,  :i  -nir-l.  mjil  i'lrr  ; 
'Tis  full  when  iouiid.  't  i-  r.-m.-i  ifsuug 

0!  seek  it,  till  't  i.-  ,-.';ilra  tn  thee. 

But  how  my  pardon  shall  I  know  ? 


By  feeling  dread  that 't  is  not  sent. 

By  tears  for  sin  that  freely  flow, 
By  grief,  that  all  thy  tears  are  spent ; 

By  thoughts  on  that  great  debt  wo  t 
With  all  the  mercy  God  has  lent  ; 

By  suffering  what  thou  canst  not  sh^ 
Yet  showing  how  thine  heart  is  rent. 

Till  thou  canst  feel  thy  bosom  glow, 
And  say,  '  My  Saviour,  I  repent ! ' 


|salm  0f  ^§xmt  in  llobtinhr. 


LONGFELLOW'S   *'  THANKSGIVING." 

AVhen  first,  in  ancient  time,  from  Jubal's  tongue 
The  tuneful  anthem  filled  the  morning  air, 
To  sacred  hymnings  and  elyaian  song 
His  music-breathing  shell  the  minstrel  woke. 
Devotion  breathed  aloud  from  every  chord  :  — 
The  voice  of  praise  was  heard  in  every  tone, 
And  prayer,  and  thanks  to  Him,  the  Eternal  One,  — 
To  Him,  that  with  bright  inspiration  touched 
The  high  and  gifted  lyre  of  heavenly  song, 
And  warmed  the  soul  with  new  vitality. 
A  stirring  energy  through  nature  breathed  :  — 
The  voice  of  adoration  from  her  broke, 
Swelling  aloud  in  every  breeze,  and  heard 
Long  in  the  sullen  waterfall,  —  what  time 
Soft  Spring  or  hoary  Autumn  threw  on  earth 
Its  bloom  or  blighting,  — when  the  Summer  smiled. 
Or  Winter  o'er  the  year's  sepulchre  mourned. 
The  Deity  was  there  !  —  a  nameless  spirit 
Moved  in  the  hearts  of  men  to  do  Him  homage  ; 
And  when  the  morning  smiled,  or  evening  pale 
Hung  weeping  o'er  the  melancholy  urn, 
They  came  beneath  the  broad  o'erarching  trees, 
And  in  their  tremulous  shadow  worshipped  oft. 
Where  the  pale  vine  clung  round  their  simple  altars. 
And  gray  moss  mantling  hung.     Above  was  heard 
The  melody  of  winds,  breathed  out  as  the  green  trees 
Bowed  to  their  quivering  touch  in  living  beauty, 
And  birds  sang  forth  their  cheerful  hymns.    Below, 
The  bright  and  widely  wandering  rivulet 
Struggled  and  gushed  amongst  the  tangled  roots, 
That  choked  its  reedy  fountain — and  dark  rocks 
Worn  smooth  by  the  constant  current.     Even  there 
The  listless  wave,  that  stole  with  mellow  voice 
Where  reeds  grew  rank  upon  the  rushy  brink, 


And  to  the  wandering  wind  the  green  sedge  bent, 
Sang  a  sweet  song  of  fixed  tranquillity. 
Men  felt  the  heavenly  influence  —  and  it  stole 
Like  balm  into  their  hearts,  till  all  was  peace  ; 
And  even  the  air  they  breathed  —  the  light  they 
Became  religion;  — for  the  ethereal  spirit,    [saw  — 
That  to  soft  music  wakes  the  chords  of  feeling. 
And  mellows  everything  to  beauty,  moved 
With  cheering  energy  within  their  breasts, 
And  made  all  holy  there —  for  all  was  love. 
The  morning  stars,  that  sweetly  sang  together  — 
The  moon,  that  hung  at  night  in  the  mid-sky  — 
Dayspring  —  and  eventide  —  and  all  the  fair 
And  beautiful  forms  of  Nature,  had  a  voice 
Of  eloquent  worship.     Ocean  with  its  tides 
SwrlliiiLi:  find  drop,  where  low  the  infant  storm 
Ihin-  Mil  111-  iliiii,  dark  cloud,  and  heavily  beat 
'lln   I'll  1-1  -  ni  ihr  ^,_a,  sent  forth  a  voice 
oi  aulul  ;td<a-;itiMii  to  the  spirit. 
That,  wrapt  in  darkness,  moved  upon  its  face. 
And  when  the  bow  of  evening  arched  the  east, 
Or,  in  the  moonlight  pale,  the  gentle  wave 
Kissed  with  a  sweet  embrace  the  sea-worn  beach, 
And  the  wild  song  of  winds  came  o'er  the  waters, 
The  mingled  melody  of  wind  and  wave 
Touched  like  a  heavenly  anthem  on  the  ear  ; 
For  it  arose  a  tuneful  hymn  of  worship. 
And  have  our  hearts  grown  cold  ?    Are  there  on  earth 
No  pure  reflections  caught  from  heavenly  love  ? 
Have  our  mute  lips  no  hymn  —  our  souls  no  song  ? 
Let  him,  that  in  the  summer-day  of  youth 
Keeps  pure  the  holy  fount  of  youthful  feeling,  — 
And  him,  that  in  the  nightfall  of  his  years 
Lies  down  in  his  last  sleep,  and  shuts  in  peace 
His  weary  eyes  on  life's  short  wayfaring, 
Praise  Him  that  rules  the  destiny  of  man. 


AVINTER-DECEMBEK 


cri)c   fourtl)   of  tbc  ^^casons. 


THOMSON'S  "  WINTER.' 


The  subject  proposed     Aildress  to  the  Earl  of  Wilminirton. 


iuii  ainnnc  them  ;  whence  i 
miseries  of  human  life.    T!i 
Alps  nnii  Apennines.     A  mni 
spent  l>y  philosophers ;  h.v  lii' 
city.    Frost.    A  view  of  Winter 
A  thaw.    The  whole  concluding  v 
a  future  state. 


See,  Winter  comes,  to  rule  tho  varied  year, 
Sullen  and  sad,  with  all  his  rising  train,       [theme. 
Vapors,  and  clouds,    and   storms.      Bo   these   my 
These  !  that  exalt  tho  soul  to  solemn  thought, 
And  heavenly  musing.     Welcome,  kindred  glooms  ! 
Congenial  horrors,  hail  !  with  frequent  foot. 
Pleased  have  I,  in  my  cheerful  morn  of  life, 
When  nursed  by  careless  Solitude  I  lived, 
And  sung  of  Nature  with  unceasing  joy,       [main  ; 
Pleased  have  I  wandered  through  your  rough  do- 
Trod  the  pure  virgin-snows,  myself  as  pure  ; 
Heard  the  winds  roar,  and  the  big  torrent  burst ; 


Or  seen  the  dcep-forracnting  tempest  brewed 
In  the  grim  evening  sky.     Thus  passed  the  time, 
Till  through  the  lucid  chambers  of  the  south 
Looked  out  tho  joyous  Spring,  looked  out,  and  smiled. 


COMPL1UEST3  TO  THR  EARL  C 

To  thee,  the  patron  of  her  first  essay. 
The  Muse,  0  Wilmington  !  renews  her  song. 
Since  has  she  rounded  tho  revolving  year  : 
Skimmed  the  gay  Spring  ;  on  eagle  pinions  homo, 
Attempted  through  the  Summer  blaze  to  rise  ; 
Then  swept  o'er  Autumn  with  tho  shadowy  galo  ; 
And  now  among  the  Wintry  clouds  again, 
KoUcd  in  tho  doubling  storm,  she  tries  to  soar  ; 
To  swell  her  note  with  all  the  rushing  winds  ; 
To  suit  her  sounding  cadence  to  the.  floods  ; 
As  is  her  theme,  her  numbers  wildly  great  : 
Thrice  happy  could  she  fill  thy  judging  ear 
With  bold  description,  and  with  manly  thought. 
Nor  art  thou  skilled  in  awful  schemes  alone. 
And  how  to  make  a  mighty  people  thrive  ; 
But  equal  goodness,  sound  integrity, 
A  firm,  unshaken,  uncorruptcd  soul 
Amid  a  sliding  age,  and  burning  strong, 
Not  vainly  blating,  for  thy  country's  weal, 


RURAL    POETRY. 


A  steady  spirit  regularly  free  ; 
These,  each  exalting  each,  the  statesman  light 
Into  the  patriot  ;   these,  the  public  hope 
And  eye  to  thee  converting,  bid  the  Muse 
Record  what  Enry  dares  not  flattery  call. 

BE  DISMAL  DAT  DECLINING  INTO 


Now  when  the  cheerless  empire  of  the  sky 
To  Capricorn  the  Centaur  Archer  yields. 
And  fii'ruc  Aquarius  stains  th'  inverted  year  ; 
Hung  o'er  the  furthest  verge  of  heaven,  the  sun 
Scarce  spreads  through  ether  the  dejected  day. 
Faint  are  his  gleams,  and  ineffectual  shoot 
His  struggling  rays,  in  horizontal  lines. 
Through  the  thick  air  ;  as  clothed  in  cloudy  storm, 
Weak,  wan,  and  broad,  he  skirts  the  southern  sky  ; 
And,  soon  descending,  to  the  long  dark  night. 
Wide-shading  all,  the  prostrate  world  resigns. 
Nor  is  the  night  unwished  ;  while  vital  heat, 
Light,  life,  and  joy,  the  dubious  day  forsake. 
jMeantiiuc,  in  sable  cincture,  shadows  vast. 
Deep-tinged  and  damp,  and  congregated  clouds, 
And  all  the  vapory  turbulence  of  heaven. 
Involve  the  face  of  things. 

THE     MELASCHOLY     OF     WINTER.  —  DISCOSSOLATE     LOOK    OF 
CATTLE SOUNDS  PORTENDING  A    WINTER  STORM. 

Thus  Winter  falls, 
A  heavy  gloom  oppressive  o'er  the  world. 
Through  Nature  shedding  influence  malign. 
And  rouses  up  the  seeds  of  dark  disease. 
The  soul  of  man  dies  in  him,  loathing  life. 
And  black  with  more  than  melancholy  views. 
The  cattle  droop  ;   and  o'er  the  furrowed  land, 
Fresh  from  the  plough,  the  dun  discolored  flocks, 
Untended  spreading,  crop  the  wholesome  root. 
Along  the  woods,  along  the  moorish  fens. 
Sighs  the  sad  Genius  of  the  coming  storm  ; 
And  up  among  the  loose  disjointed  cliff's, 
And  fractured  mountains  wild,  the  brawling  brook 
And  cave,  presageful,  send  a  hollow  moan, 
Resounding  long  in  listening  Fancy's  ear. 


Then  comes  the  father  of  the  tempest  forth. 
Wrapt  in  black  glooms.  First  joyless  rains  obscure 
Drive  through  the  mingling  skies  with  vapor  foul ; 
Dash  on  the  mountain's  brow,  and  shake  the  woods. 
That  grumbling  wave  below.  Th'  unsightly  plain 
Lies  a  brown  deluge  ;  as  the  low-bent  clouds 

Pour  flood  on  flnn.l,   yrt,   nrM-\-l,riii-l,  ,1.   -lill 

Combine,  and,  .1,  .  i  .  ;    .  ':i    lii ,  -Inii  up 

The  day's  fair  In.        I-    >,    ,,  I.  ,.  ,-,,i  liraven. 
Each  to  his  h.iriir,  ivii,,-,    -,,  i  r  il,,,,r  that  love 
To  take  their  pastime  in  the  tit.ublcd  air. 
Or  skimming  flutter  round  the  dimply  pool. 
The  cattle  from  th'  untasted  fields  return. 
And  ask,  with  moaning  low,  their  wonted  stalls. 
Or  ruminate  in  the  contiguous  shade. 
Thither  the  household  feathery  people  crowd. 


The  crested  cock,  with  all  his  female  train. 
Pensive,  and  dripping  ;  while  the  cottage  hind 
Hangs  o'er  th'  enlivening  blaze,  and  taleful  there 
Recounts  his  simple  frolic  :  much  he  talks, 
And  much  he  laughs,  nor  recks  the  storm  that  blows 
Without,  and  rattles  on  his  humble  roof. 


Wide  o'er  the  brim,  with  many  a  torrent  swelled, 
And  the  mixed  ruin  of  its  banks  o'erspread, 
At  last  the  roused-up  river  pours  along  : 
Resistless,  roaring,  dreadful,  down  it  comes 
From  the  rude  mountain,  and  the  mossy  wild, 
Tumbling  through  rocks  abrupt,  and  sounding  far  ; 
Then  o'er  the  sanded  valley  floating  spreads. 
Calm,  sluggish,  silent ;  till  again,  constrained 
Between  two  meeting  hills,  it  bursts  away. 
Where  rocks  and  woods  o'erhang  the  turbid  stream  ; 
There  gathering  triple  force,  rapid,  and  deep. 
It   boils,    and   wheels,    and  foams,    and   thunders 
through. 


Nature  !  great  parent !  whose  unceasing  hand 
Rolls  round  the  seasons  of  the  changeful  year. 
How  mighty,  how  majestic,  are  thy  works  ! 
With  what  a  pleasing  dread  they  swell  the  soul. 
That  sees  astonished,  and  astonished  sings  ! 
Ye  too,  ye  winds  !  that  now  begin  to  blow 
With  boisterous  sweep,  I  raise  my  voice  to  you. 
Where  are  your  stores,  ye  powerful  beings  !  say. 
Where  your  aerial  magazines  reserved, 
To  swell  the  brooding  terrors  of  the  storm'? 
In  what  far-distant  region  of  the  sky. 
Hushed  in  deep  silence,  sleep  ye  when  't  is  calm  ? 


When  from  the  pallid  sky  the  sun  descends, 
With  many  a  spot,  that  o'er  his  glaring  orb 
Uncertain  wanders,  stained  ;   red  fiery  streaks 
Begin  to  flush  around.     The  reeling  clouds 
Stagger  with  dizzy  poise,  as  doubting  yet 
Which  master  to  obey  ;  while  rising  slow. 
Blank  in  the  leaden-colored  east,  the  moon 
Wears  a  wan  circle  round  ,her  blunted  horns. 
Seen  through  the  turbid  fluctuating  air. 
The  stars  obtuse  emit  a  shivered  ray  ; 
Or  frequent  seem  to  shoot  athwart  the  gloom. 
And  long  behind  them  trail  the  whitening  blaze. 
Snatched  in  short  eddies,  plays  the  withered  leaf  ; 
And  on  the  flood  the  dancing  feather  floats. 
With  broadened  nostrils  to  the  sky  upturned. 
The  conscious  heifer  snuff's  the  stormy  gale. 
E'en  as  the  matron,  at  her  nightly  task. 
With  pensive  labor  draws  the  flaxen  thread. 
The  wasted  taper  and  the  crackling  flame 
Foretell  the  blast. 


But  chief  the  plumy  raci 
The  tenants  of  the  sky,  its  changes  speak. 


897 


Kctiring  from  tho  downs,  where  all  clay  long 
Tliuy  picked  their  scanty  fare,  a  blackening  train 
Of  clamorous  rooks  thick  urge  their  weary  flight, 
And  seek  tho  closing  shelter  of  the  grove. 
Assiduous,  in  his  bower,  tho  wailing  owl 
Plies  his  sad  song.     Tho  cormorant  on  high 
Wheels  from  tho  deep,  and  screams  along  tho  land. 
Loud  shrieks  the  soaring  horn  ;  and  with  wild  wing 
Tho  circling  sea-fowl  cleave  tho  flaky  clouds. 
Ocean,  unequal  pressed,  with  broken  tido 
And  blind  commotion  heaves  ;  while  from  the  shore, 
Eat  into  caverns  by  the  restless  wave, 
And  forest-rustling  mountain,  comes  a  voice. 
That  solemn  sounding  bids  the  world  prepare. 

THB  WINTER    TBUPGST    ON    TnB     OCRA.V.  —  THE     BALTIC.  — 

Then  issues  forth  the  storm  with  sudden  burst, 
And  hurls  the  whole  precipitated  air 
Down  in  a  torrent.     On  the  passive  main 
Descends  th'  ethereal  force,  and  with  strong  gust 
Turns  from  ita  bottom  tho  discolored  deep. 
Through  the  black  night  that  sits  immense  around, 
Lnshcd  into  foam,  tho  fierce  conflicting  brine 
Seems  o'er  a  thousand  raging  waves  to  burn  : 
Meantime  tho  mountain-billows,  to  the  clouds 
In  dreadful  tumult  swelled,  surge  above  surge. 
Burst  into  ehaos  with  tremendous  roar, 
And  anchored  navies  from  their  stations  drive, 
Wild  as  tho  winds,  across  the  howling  waste 
Of  mighty  waters  :  now  th'  inflated  wave 
Straining  they  scale,  and  now  impetuous  shoot 
Into  tho  secret  chambers  of  the  deep. 
The  wintry  Baltic  thundering  o'er  their  head. 
Emerging  thence  again,  before  the  breath 
Of  full-exerted  heaven  they  wing  their  course, 
And  dart  on  distant  coasts  ;  if  some  sharp  rock, 
Or  shoal  insidious,  break  not  their  career, 
And  in  loose  fragments  fling  them  floating  round. 


Nor  less  on  land  the  loosened  tempest  reigns. 
Tlio  mountain  thunders  ;   and  its  sturdy  sons 
Stoop  to  the  bottom  of  the  rocks  they  shade. 
Lone  on  the  midnight  steep,  and  all  aghast. 
The  dark  wayfaring  stranger  breathless  toils, 
And,  often  falling,  climbs  against  the  blast. 
Low  waves  the  rooted  forest,  vexed,  and  sheds 
What  of  its  tarnished  lienors  yet  remain  ; 
Dashed  down,  and  scattered,  by  the  tearing  wind's 
Assiduous  fury,  its  gigantic  limbs. 
Thus  struggling  through  the  dissipated  grove. 
The  whirling  tempest  raves  along  the  plain  ; 
And  on  the  cottage  thatched,  or  lordly  roof, 
Keen-fastening,  shakes  them  to  the  solid  base. 
Sleep  frighted  flics  ;  and  round  tho  rocking  dome. 
For  entrance  eager,  howls  tho  savage  blast. 
Then  too,  they  say,  through  all  tho  burdened  air. 
Long  groans  are  heard,  shrill  sounds,  and  distant 
sighs. 


That,  uttered  by  tho  Demon  of  tho  night. 
Warn  the  devoted  wrcteh  of  woo  and  death. 

Huge  Uproar  lords  it  wide.  Tho  clouds  cummixe 
With  stars  swift  gliding  sweep  along  tho  sky. 
All  Nature  reels.     Till  Nature's  King,  who  oft 
Amid  tempestuous  darkness  dwells  ulone. 
And  on  the  wings  of  tho  careering  wind 
Walks  dreadfully  serene,  commands  a  calm  ; 
Then  straight  air,  sea,  and  earth,  are  hushed  at  onci 

WINTBR-UIDNIGUT.  —  CONTEMPLATION. 

As  yet 't  is  midnight  deep.     The  weary  clouds. 
Slow-meeting,  mingle  into  solid  gloom. 
Now,  while  tho  drowsy  world  lies  lost  in  sleep. 
Let  mo  associate  with  tho  serious  Night, 
And  Contemplation,  her  sedate  compeer  ; 
Let  me  shako  off  th'  intrusive  cares  of  day. 
And  lay  the  meddling  senses  all  aside. 

VANITT  OF  Hl'MAN  PrilSriTS. 

Where  now,  ye  lying  vanities  of  life  ! 
Ye  ever-tempting,  ever-cheating  train  ! 
Whore  are  you  now  ?  and  what  is  your  amount  ? 
Vexation,  disappointment,  and  remorse. 
Sad,  sickening  thought !  and  yet  deluded  man, 
A  scene  of  crude  disjointed  visions  passed. 
And  broken  slumbers,  rises  still  resolved, 
With  new-flushed  hopes,  to  run  the  giddy  round. 

PRAVER  FOR  VIRTCE. 

Father  of  light  and  life  !  thou  Good  Supreme  ! 
0  teach  me  what  is  good  !  teach  me  Thyself  ! 

Siivo  mo  fvnm  fnlly.  v;inity.  :ind  vice. 


The  keener  tempests  rise  :  ond  fuming  dun 
From  all  the  livid  east,  or  piercing  north. 
Thick  clouds  ascend  ;   in  whose  capacious  womb 
A  vapory  deluge  lies,  to  snow  congealed  ; 
Heavy  they  roll  their  fleecy  world  along, 
And  the  sky  saddens  with  tho  gathered  storm. 
Through   the    hushed   air  the   whitening    shower 

descends. 
At  first  thin  wavering  ;  till  at  last  the  flakes 
Fall  broad,  and  wide,  and  fast,  dimming  the  day 
With  a  continual  flow.     The  cherished  fields 
Put  on  their  winter-robe  of  purest  white. 
'T  is  brightness  all,  save  where  the  new  snow  melts 
Along  tho  mazy  current.     Low  tho  woods 
Bow  their  hoar  head  j  and  ere  tho  languid  sun 
Faint  from  the  west  emits  his  evening  ray. 
Earth's  universal  face,  deep  hid,  and  chill. 
Is  one  wild  dazzling  waste,  that  buries  wide 
The  works  of  man.     Drooping,  the  laborer  ox 
Stands  covered  o'er  with  snow,  and  then  demands 
The  fruit  of  all  his  toil.     The  fowls  of  heaven, 
Tamed  by  the  cruel  season,  crowd  around 
The  winnowing  store,  and  claim  tho  littlo  boon 
Which  Providence  assigns  them. 


RURAL    POETRY. THOMSON. 


One  alone, 
The  red-tireast,  sacred  to  the  household  gods, 
Wisely  regardful  of  th'  embroiling  sky. 
In  joyless  fields  and  thorny  thickets  leaves 
His  shivering  mates,  and  pays  to  trusted  man 
His  annual  visit.     Half-afraid,  ho  first 
Against  the  window  heats  ;  then,  brisk,  alights 
On  the  warm  hearth  ;  then,  hopping  o'er  the  floor. 
Eyes  all  the  smiling  family  askance. 
And  pecks,  and  starts,  and  wonders  where  he  is  : 
Till,  more  familiar  grown,  the  table-crumbs 
Attract  his  slender  feet. — The  foodless  wilds 
Pour  forth  their  brown  inhabitants.     The  hare, 
Though  timorous  of  heart,  and  hard  beset 
By  death  in  various  forms,  dark  snares,  and  dogs. 
And  more  unpitying  men,  the  garden  seeks. 
Urged  on  by  fearless  want.     The  bleating  kind 
Eye  the  bleak  heaven,  and  next  the  glistening  earth, 
With  looks  of  dumb  despair  ;  then,  sad-dispersed, 
Dig  for  the  withered  herb  through  heaps  of  snow. 


Now,  shepherds,  to  your  helpless  charge  be  kind, 
Baflle  the  raging  year,  and  fill  their  pens 
With  food  at  will  ;   lodge  them  below  the  storm. 
And  watch  them  strict;  for  from  the  bellowing  east, 
In  this  dire  season,  oft  the  whirlwind's  wing 
Sweeps  up  the  burden  of  whole  wiutry  plains 
At  one  wide  waft,  and  o'er  the  hapless  flocks. 
Hid  in  the  hollow  of  two  neighboring  hills, 
The  billowy  tempest  whelms  ;  till,  upward  urged. 
The  valley  to  a  shining  mountain  swells. 
Tipped  with  a  wreath  high-curling  in  the  sky. 


As  thus  the  snows  arise  ;  and  foul,  and  fierce. 
All  Winter  drives  along  the  darkened  air  ; 
In  his  own  loos2-revolving  fields  the  swain 
Disastered  stands  ;  sees  other  hills  ascend. 
Of  unknown  joyless  brow  ;  and  other  scenes, 
Of  horrid  prospect,  shag  the  trackless  plain  : 
Nor  finds  the  river,  nor  the  forest,  hid 
Beneath  the  formless  wild  ;  but  wanders  on 
From  hill  to  dale,  still  more  and  more  astray  ; 
Impatient  flouncing  through  the  drifted  heaps, 
Stung  with  the  thoughts  of  home  ;   the  thoughts  of 

Rush  on  his  nervns.  and  call  their  vigor  forth 
In  many  a  vain  :iitiin|.|,     Ilniv  ..inks  his  soul  ! 
What  black  (lr-|.;n,,  iil,;,i  l,n,i,,r  fills  his  heart ! 
When  for  the  ilii-kv  -|i"i,  \\\,i.\,  lUncy  feigned 
His  tufted  cottage  rising  tlirough  the  snow. 
Ho  meets  the  roughness  of  the  middle  waste, 
Par  from  the  track  and  blest  abode  of  man  ; 
While  round  him  night  resistless  closes  fast, 
And  every  tempest,  howling  o'er  his  head. 
Renders  the  savage  wilderness  more  wild. 


Then  throng  the  busy  shapes  into  his  mind 

Of  covered  pits  unfathomably  deep, 

A  dire  descent !  beyond  the  power  of  frost ; 

Of  faithless  bogs  ;  _  of  precipices  huge, 

Smoothed  up  with  snow;  and  what  is  land  unknown. 

What  water  of  the  still  unfrozen  spring, 

In  the  loose  marsh  or  solitary  lake, 

Where  the  fresh  fountain  from  the  bottom  boils. 

These  check  his  fearful  steps  ;  and  down  he  sinks. 

Beneath  the  shelter  of  the  shapeless  drift. 

Thinking  o'er  all  the  bitterness  of  death  ; 

Mixed  with  the  tender  anguish  Nature  shoots 

Through  the  wrung  bosom  of  the  dying  man. 

His  wife,  his  children,  and  his  friends  unseen. 

In  vain  for  him  th'  ofiieious  wife  prepares 

The  fire  fair-blazing,  and  the  vestment  warm  ; 

In  vain  his  little  children,  peeping  out 

Into  the  mingling  storm,  demand  their  sire, 

With  tears  of  artless  innocence.     Alas  ! 

Nor  wife,  nor  children,  more  shall  he  behold  ; 

Nor  friends,  nor  sacred  home.     On  every  nerve 

The  deadly  Winter  seizes  ;  shuts  up  sense  ; 

And,  o'er  his  inmost  vitals  creeping  cold, 

Lays  him  along  the  snows  a  stiffened  corse, 

Stretched  out,  and  bleaching  in  the  northern  blast. 


Ah  !  little  think  the  gay  licentious  proud. 
Whom  pleasure,  power,  and  affluence  surround  ; 
They  who  their  thoughtless  hours  in  giddy  mirth. 
And  wanton,  often  cruel,  riot  waste  ; 
Ah  !  little  think  they,  while  they  dance  along. 
How  many  feel,  this  very  moment,  death. 
And  all  the  sad  variety  of  pain. 
How  many  sink  in  the  devouring  flood, 
Or  more  devouring  flame.     How  many  bleed. 
By  shameful  variance  betwixt  man  and  man. 
How  many  pine  in  want,  and  dungeon  glooms  ; 
Shut  from  the  common  air  and  common  use 
Of  their  own  limbs.     How  many  drink  the  cup 
Of  baleful  grief,  or  eat  the  bitter  bread 
Of  misery.     Sore  pierced  by  wiutry  winds. 
How  many  shrink  into  the  sordid  hut 
Of  cheerless  poverty.     How  many  shake 
With  all  the  fiercer  tortures  of  the  mind. 
Unbounded  passion,  madness,  guilt,  remorse  ; 
Whence  tumbled  headlong  from  the  height  of  life, 
They  furnish  matter  for  the  tr.agic  Muso  ; 
E'en  in  the  vale  where  Wisdom  loves  to  dwell. 
With  Friendship,  Peace,  and  Contemplation  joined. 
How  many,  racked  with  honest  passions,  droop 
In  deep  retired  distress.     How  many  stand 
Around  the  death-bed  of  their  dearest  friends. 
And  point  the  parting  anguish. 


Thought  fond  man 
Of  these,  and  all  the  thousand  nameless  ills. 
That  one  incessant  struggle  render  life 
One  scene  of  toil,  of  suffering,  and  of  fate. 


WINTER  —  DECEMBER. 


Vice  in  his  high  career  would  stand  appalled, 
And  heedless  rambling  Impulse  learn  to  think  ; 
The  conscious  heart  of  Charity  would  warm, 
And  her  wide  wish  Bonovolcnco  dilate  ; 
The  social  tear  would  rise,  tho  social  sigh  ; 
And  into  clear  perfection,  gradual  bliss, 
Refining  still,  tho  social  passions  work. 

-IMrBlSOXJIKSI  FOB 


And  hero  can  I  forget  the  generous  band,' 
Who,  touched  with  human  woe,  redressivo  searched 
Into  the  horrors  of  the  gloomy  jail  ? 
Unpiticd,  and  unheard,  where  misery  moans. 
Where  sickness  pines,  where  thirst  and  hunger  bum, 
And  poor  misfortune  feels  the  lash  of  vice. 
While  in  tho  land  of  Liberty,  the  land 
Whose  every  street  and  public  meeting  glow 
With  open  freedom,  little  tyrants  raged  ; 
Snatched  the  lean  morsel  from  tho  starving  mouth  ; 
Tore  from  cold  wintry  limbs  tho  tottered  weed  ; 
E'en  robbed  them  of  the  last  of  comforts,  sleep  ; 
The  free-born  Briton  to  tho  dungeon  chained. 
Or,  as  tho  lust  of  cruelty  prevailed. 
At  pleasure  marked  him  with  inglorious  stripes  ; 
And  crushed  out  lives,  by  secret  barbarous  ways. 
That  for  their  country  would  have  toiled  or  bled. 

LEGAL  BEFOBM  CBOED. 

0  great  design  !  if  executed  well, 
With  patient  care,  and  wisdom-tompcred  zeal. 
Te  sons  of  Mercy  !  yet  resume  tho  search. 
Drag  forth  the  legal  monsters  into  light. 
Wrench  from  their  hands  oppression's  iron  rod. 
And  bid  the  cruel  feel  tho  pains  they  give. 
Much  still  untouched  remains  ;  in  this  rank  age, 
Much  is  tho  patriot's  weeding  hand  required. 
The  toils  of  law  (what  dark  insidious  men 
Have  cumbrous  added  to  perplc.v  the  truth, 
And  lengthen  simple  justice  into  trade) 
How  glorious  were  tho  day  that  saw  these  broke. 
And  every  man  within  the  reach  of  right ! 

PACKS   OF   WOLVES  ;    THEIR   RAVAGES  ;   TnE   HORSE  J   DULL  ; 
MOTHER  AND  INFANT  }  DrRIRD  CORPSES. 

By  wintry  famine  roused,  from  all  the  tract 
Of  horrid  mountains  which  the  shining  Alps, 
And  wavy  Aponnino,  and  Pyrenees, 
Branch  out  stupendous  into  distant  lands  ; 
Cruel  as  death,  and  hungry  as  tho  grave  • 
Burning  for  blood,  bony,  and  gaunt,  and  grim  ! 
Assembling  wolves  in  raging  troops  descend  ; 
And,  pouring  o'er  the  country,  bear  along, 
Keen  as  tho  north-wind  sweeps  tho  glossy  snow. 
All  is  their  prize.     They  fasten  on  tho  steed, 
Press  him  to  earth,  and  pierco  his  mighty  heart. 
Nor  can  the  bull  his  awful  front  defend. 
Or  shake  the  murdering  savages  awoy. 
Rapacious,  at  the  mother's  throat  they  fly. 
And  tear  the  screaming  infant  from  her  breast. 
The  godlike  face  of  man  avails  him  naught. 
1  The  Jail  Committee,  in  the  year  1720. 


E'en  beauty,  force  divino  !  ot  whoso  bright  glanco 
The  generous  lion  stonds  in  softened  gaze, 
Here  bleeds,  a  hapless  undistinguished  prey. 
But  if,  oppriscd  of  tho  severe  attack. 
The  country  be  shut  up,  lured  by  the  scent, 
On  ohurch-ynrds  drear  (inhuman  to  relate  !) 
The  disappointed  prowlers  fall,  and  dig 
The  shrouded  body  from  the  grave  ;  o'er  which, 
Mi.^ed  with  foul  shades  and  frighted  ghosts,  they 
howl. 

SWISS  AVALANCHES. 

Among  those  hilly  regions,  where  embraced 
In  peaceful  vales  the  happy  Orisons  dwell  ; 
Oft,  rushing  sadden  from  tho  loaded  cliffs. 
Mountains  of  snow  their  gathering  terrors  roll. 
From  steep  to  steep,  loud-thundering  down  they  come, 
A  wintry  wn--t.'  \v  '\W-  ,-..n,i,v.li"n  all ; 
And  herds,  II  11^1  II     1    .ml  i  iiMlIcrs,  and  swains, 
And  sometim.  -  u!,.  1.    i  m_  ,  I   -  ^r  marching  troops. 
Or  hamlets  sK. I, in;  in  Hi-  ■!■  il  "f  night, 
Are  deep  beneath  the  smothering  ruin  whelmed. 


Now,  all  amid  the  rigors  of  the  year. 
In  the  wild  depth  of  Winter,  while  without 
The  ceaseless  winds  blow  ice,  be  my  retreat, 
Between  the  groaning  forest  and  the  shore 
Beat  by  the  boundless  multitude  of  waves, 
A  rural,  sheltered,  solitary  scene  ; 
Where  ruddy  fire  and  beaming  tapers  join 
To  cheer  the  gloom.     There  studious  let  me  sit, 
And  hold  high  converse  with  tho  mighty  dead  ; 
Sages  of  ancient  time,  as  gods  revered. 
As  gods  beneficent,  who  blessed  mankind 
AVith  arts,  with  arms,  and  humanized  a  world. 


Roused  at  tho  inspiring  thought,  I  throw  aside 
The  long-lived  volume  ;  and,  deep-musing,  hail 
The  sacred  shades,  that  slowly-rising  pass 
Before  my  wondering  eyes.     First  Socrates, 
Who,  firmly  good  in  a  corrupted  state. 
Against  the  rage  of  tyranU  single  stood. 
Invincible  !  calm  reason's  holy  law. 
That  voice  of  God  within  the  attentive  mind, 
Obeying,  fearless,  or  in  life,  or  death  : 
Great  moral  teacher  !  wisest  of  mankind  ! 

Solon  the  next,  who  built  his  common  weal 
On  equity's  wide  base  ;  by  tender  laws 
A  lively  people  curbing,  yet  undamped  ; 
Preserving  still  that  quick  peculiar  fire. 
Whence  in  the  laurelled  field  of  finer  arts. 
And  of  bold  freedom,  they  unequalled  shone, 
Tho  pride  of  smiling  Greece,  and  humankind. 

LVCCBCCS.  —  LEOSIDAS. 

Lycurgus  then,  who  bowed  beneath  tho  force 
Of  strictest  discipline,  severely  wise, 
All  human  passions.    Following  him,  I  see, 


RURAL    POETRY. THOMSON. 


As  at  Thennopylse  he  glorious  fell, 

The  firm  devoted  chief,'  who  proved  by  deeds 

The  hardest  lesson  which  the  other  taught. 


Then  Aristides  lifts  his  honest  front ; 
Spotless  of  heart,  to  whom  the  unflattering  vo 
Of  Freedom  gave  the  noblest  name  of  Just ; 
In  pure  majestic  poverty  revered  ; 
Who,  e'en  his  glory  to  his  country's  weal 
Submitting,  swelled  a  haughty  rival's  2  fame. 


Reared  by  his  care,  of  softer  ray  appears 
Cimon,  sweet-souled  ;  whose  genius,  rising  strong. 
Shook  off  the  load  of  young  debauch  ;   abroad 
The  scourge  of  Persian  pride,  at  home  the  friend 
Of  every  worth  and  every  splendid  art ; 
Modest,  and  simple,  in  the  pomp  of  wealth. 


TIMOLEON.  —  PELOPIDA..        .,„„. 

Then  the  last  worthies  of  declining  Gri...-, 
Late  called  to  glory,  in  unequal  times. 
Pensive,  appear.     The  fair  Corinthian  boast, 
Tinioleon,  happy  temper  !   mild,  and   lirni. 
Who  wept  the  brotlier  wlnlr  the  tyiant  Idi-d. 
And,  equal  to  the  be.^t,  tin;  'I'li.lMri  i«urv' 
Whose  virtues,  in  heroic  concord  joined. 
Their  country  raised  to  freedom,  empire,  fame. 

He  too,  with  whom  Athenian  honor  sunk, 
And  left  a  mass  of  sordid  lees  behind, 
Phocion  the  Good  ;  in  public  life  severe, 
To  virtue  still  inexorably  iirm  ; 
But  when,  beneath  his  low  illustrious  roof. 
Sweet  Peace  and  happy  Wisdom  smoothed  his  brow, 
Not  Friendship  softer  was,  nor  Love  more  kind. 


And  he,  the  last  of  old  Lycurgus'  sons, 
The  generous  victim  to  that  vain  attempt 
To  save  a  rotten  state,  Agis,  who  saw 
E'en  .Sparta's  self  to  servile  avarice  sunk^ 
The  two  Achaian  heroes  close  the  train  : 
Aratus,  who  a  while  relumed  the  soul 
Of  fDiuUy  lingering  Liberty  in  Greece  ; 
And  he  her  darling,  as  her  latest  hope. 
The  gallant  Phil. q„, men  ;   who  to  arms 
Turned  the  Iii.mim.m-  |. .,,„,,  i,,  rnuld  not  curs 

Or  toiling  in  hi    i ,  i    ^vuin. 

Or,  bold  and  -I,      ,  ,       ,  ,,,^  i,,  the  field. 


Of  rougher  front,  a  mighty  people  come  ! 
A  raee  of  heroes  !  in  those  virtuous  times 
Which  knew  no  stain,  save  that  with  partial  flame 
Their  dearest  country  they  too  fondly  lined  : 
Her  better  Founder  first,  the  light  of  Home, 
Numa,  who  softened  her  rapacious  sons ; 

Themistocles. 


Servius  the  king,  who  laid  the  solid  base 
On  which  o'er  earth  the  vast  republic  spread. 
Then  the  great  consuls  venerable  rise  : 
The  public  Fathey '  who  the  private  quelled, 
As  on  the  dread  tribunal  sternly  sad  ; 
He,  whom  his  thankless  country  could  not  lose, 
Camillus,  only  vengeful  to  her  foes  ; 
Fabricius,  scorner  of  all-conquering  gold  ; 
And  Cineinnatus,  awful  from  the  plough. 

REGOLUS.  —  SCIPIO.  —  CICERO.  —  CATO.  —  BEUTOS. 

Thy  willing  victim,^  Carthage,  bursting  loose 
From  all  tliat  pleading  Nature  could  oppose, 
I'l-.iiii  II  wh.ilc  fity's  tears,  by  rigid  faith 
I  Mi|>ri  ii.ii-  iiilhd,  and  Honor's  dire  command  ; 
.~i  qii",  thr  pintle  chief,  humanely  brave, 
M  ho  soon  the  race  of  spotless  glory  ran. 
And,  warm  in  youth,  to  the  poetic  shade 
With  Friendship  and  Philosophy  retired  ; 
Tully,  whose  powerful  eloquence  a  while 
Restrained  the  rapid  fate  of  rushing  Rome  ; 
Unconquered  Cato,  virtuous  in  extreme  ; 
And  thou,  unhappy  Brutus,  kind  of  heart, 
Whose  steady  arm,  by  awful  virtue  urged. 
Lifted  the  Roman  steel  against  thy  friend  : 
Thousands  besides  the  tribute  of  a  verse 
Demand  ;  but  who  can  count  the  stars  of  heaven  ? 
Who  sing  their  influence  on  this  lower  world  ? 

VIRGIL.  —  HOMER  AND   THE    GRECIAN   WRITERS. 

Behold,  who  yonder  comes  !  in  sober  state. 
Fair,  mild,  and  strong,  as  is  a  vernal  sun  : 
'T  is  Pho?bus'  self,  or  else  the  Mantuan  swain  ! 
Great  Homer  too  appears,  of  daring  wing. 
Parent  of  song  !  and,  equal  by  his  side. 
The  British  Muse  ;  joined  hand  in  hand  they  walk. 
Darkling,  full  up  the  middle  steep  to  fame. 
Nor  abfeni  air  Ihi.-r  .-Iiuiks,  whose  skilful  touch 
Pathetif  dun  ih.   iiii|,a.,i,ined  heart,  and  charmed 
Transpiirtrd  Allirii>  uith  the  moral  scene  ; 
Nor  tho^c  wlin,  tuiKtul,  waked  the  enchanting  lyre. 

First  of  your  kind  !  society  divine  ! 
Still  visit  thus  my  nights,  for  you  reserved, 
And  mount  my  soaring  soul  to  thoughts  like  yours. 
Silence,  thou  lonely  power  !  the  door  be  thine  ; 
See  on  the  hallowed  hour  that  none  intrude, 


ideii 


i  Pelopidas  and  Epaminondas. 


To  bless  in.v  hiinihl,.  iM,.|,  iiiih  Mai-r  refined, 

Unstudied  Hit,,  and  liumur  evir  yay. 
Or  from  the  Muses'  hill  will  Pope  descend. 
To  raise  the  sacred  hour,  to  bid  it  smile. 
And  with  the  social  spirit  warm  the  heart  ? 
For  though  not  sweeter  his  own  Homer  sings, 
Yet  is  his  life  the  more  endearing  song. 

Where  art  thou,  Hammond?    thou,  the  darling 
pride, 
1  Lucius  Junius  Brutus.  2  Regulus. 


•WINTER —  DECBMBBR. 


401 


The  friend  and  lover  of  tho  tuneful  throng  ! 
Ah,  why,  dear  youth,  in  all  tho  blooming  primo 
Of  vernal  genius,  where  disclosing  fast 
Eaeh  active  worth,  each  manly  virtue  lay, 
Why  wert  thou  ravished  from  our  hope  so  soon  ? 
What  now  avails  that  noble  thirst  of  fame, 
Which  stung  thy  fervent  breast  ?  thot  treasured  store 
Of  knowledge  early  gained  ?  that  eager  zeal 
To  serve  thy  country,  glowing  in  the  band 
Of  youthful  patriots,  who  sustain  her  name  ? 
What  now,  alas  !  that  life-diffusing  charm 
Of  sprightly  wit  ?  that  rapture  for  tho  Muse, 
That  heart  of  friendship,  and  that  soul  of  joy. 
Which  bade  with  softest  light  thy  virtues  smilo  ? 
Ah  !  only  showed,  to  check  our  fond  pursuits, 
And  teach  our  bumbled  hopes  that  life  is  vain  ! 
pmLosopmc  specvlatioss  is  a  wi! 


Thus  in  some  deep  retirement  would  I  pass 
The  winter-glooms,  with  friends  of  pliant  soul, 
Or  blithe,  or  solemn,  as  the  theme  inspired, 
With  them  would  search,  if  Nature's  boundless  frame 
Was  called,  late-rising  from  the  void  of  night, 
Or  sprung  eternal  from  the  Eternal  Jlind  ; 
Its  life,  its  laws,  its  progress,  and  its  end. 
Hence  larger  prospects  of  tho  beauteous  whole 
Would,  gradual,  open  on  our  opening  minds  ; 
And  each  dififusive  harmony  unite 
In  full  perfection  to  the  astonished  eye. 
Then  would  wc  try  to  scan  tho  moral  world, 
Wliuh.  ili..u;:h  to  us  it  seems  embroiled,  moves  on 
III  lii_'li,  r  ..plrr  ;   fitted  and  impelled 
l;y  W  i-<inm'.-  liuf^t  hand,  and  issuing  all 

STl-DY  OF  THE    pmLOSOpnT  OF    HISTOItV   AND  OF   POLmCAL 
ECONOMY. — PUBLIC   ;^IMIIIT. 

The  sage  historic  Muse 
Should  next  conduct  us  through  the  deeps  of  time  : 
Show  us  how  empire  grew,  declined,  and  fell, 
In  scattered  states  ;  what  makes  the  nations  smile,. 
Improves  their  soil,  and  gives  them  double  suns  ; 
And  why  they  pine  beneath  the  brightest  skies, 
In  Nature's  richest  lap.     As  thus  wc  talked, 
Our  hearts  would  bum  within  us,  would  inhalo 
That  portion  of  divinity,  that  ray 
Of  purest  heaven,  which  lights  the  public  soul 
Of  patriots  and  of  heroes. 

THK  VIKTCES   or  PRIVATS    IIPE  ClI.TlVATRn    IS  WISTEB  BE- 


But  if  doomed. 
In  powerless  humble  fortune,  to  repress 
These  ardent  risings  of  tho  kindling  soul  ; 
Then,  e'en  superior  to  ambition,  wo 
Would  Iciim  the  private  virtues  :  how  to  glide 
Thrtiui;h   sluviU-^  nnd  plains,   along  tho  smoothest 
Of  rural  life;  or  ."Hatched  away  by  hope,       [stream 
Through  the  dim  simces  of  futurity, 
AVith  earnest  eye  anticipate  those  scenes 
Of  happiness  and  wonder  ;  where  the  mind. 


51 


In  endless  growth  nnd  infinite  ascent. 

Rises  from  state  to  state,  and  world  to  world. 

But,  when  with  these  the  serious  thouglit  is  foiled, 

Wc,  shifting  for  relief,  would  play  the  shapes 

Of  frolic  Fancy  ;  and  incessant  form 

Those  rapid  pictures,  that  assembled  train 

Of  fleet  ideas,  never  joined  before, 

Whence  lively  Wit  excites  to  gay  surprise  ; 

Or  folly-painting  Humor,  grave  himself, 

Calls  Laughter  forth,  deep-shaking  every  nervo. 


S  ;    DASCISO. 

Meantime  tho  village  rouses  up  tho  firo  j 
While  well  attested,  and  as  well  believed, 
Heard  solemn,  goes  the  goblin  story  round  ; 
Till  superstitious  horror  creeps  o'er  all. 
Or,  frequent  in  the  sounding  hall,  they  wake 
The  rural  gambol.     Rustic  mirth  goes  round  ; 
The  simple  joke  that  takes  the  shepherd's  heart, 
Basily  pleased  ;  the  long  loud  laugh,  sincere  ; 
The  kiss,  snatched  hasty  from  the  sidelong  maid. 
On  purpose  guardlcss,  or  pretending  sleep  : 
Tho  leap,  the  slap,  the  haul  ;  and,  shook  to  notes 
Of  native  music,  the  respondent  dance. 
Thus  jocund  fleets  with  them  the  winter-night. 


Tho  city  swarms  intense.     The  public  haunt. 
Full  of  each  theme,  and  warm  with  mixed  discourse, 
Hums  indijtiiK't.     The  s..ns  .if  ri.it  tlc.w 


Friends,  families,  and  fortune,  headlong  sink. 

Up  springs  tho  dance  along  tho  lighted  dome. 

Mixed  and  evolved,  a  thousand  sprightly  ways. 

Tho  glittering  court  effuses  every  pomp  ; 

The  circle  deepens  :  beamed  from  gaudy  robes. 

Tapers,  and  sparkling  gems,  nnd  radiant  eyes, 

A  soft  effulgence  o'er  the  palace  waves  : 

While,  a  gay  insect  in  his  summer-shine, 

Tho  fop,  light-fluttering,  spreads  his  mealy  wings. 

THE  DRAMA. 

Dread  o'er  the  scene,  tho  ghost  of  Hamlet  stalks; 
Othello  rages  ;  poor  Monimia  mourns  j 
And  Belvidera  pours  her  soul  in  love. 
Terror  alarms  the  breast ;  the  comely  tear 
Steals  o'er  the  check  :  or  else  tho  Comic  Muse 
Holds  to  the  world  a  picture  of  itself. 
And  raises  sly  tho  fair  impartial  laugh. 
Sometimes  she  lifts  her  strain,  and  paints  tho  scenes 
Of  beauteous  life  ;  whate'er  can  deck  mankind. 
Or  charm  the  heart,  in  generous  Bevil '  showed. 


0  thon,  whoso  wisdom,  solid  yet  refined. 
Whose  patriot  virtues,  and  consummate  skill 
1  A  character  in  'The  Conscious  Lovers,'  by  Sir  B.  Steele. 


402 


RURAL    POETRY. THOMSON. 


To  touch  tho  finer  springs  that  move  the  world, 

Joined  to  whate'er  tho  Graces  can  bestow, 

And  all  Apollo's  animating  fire, 

Give  thee,  with  pleasing  dignity,  to  shine 

At  once  the  guardian,  ornament,  and  joy, 

Of  polished  life  ;  permit  the  rural  Muse, 

0  Chesterfield  !  to  grace  with  thee  her  song. 

Ere  to  the  shades  again  she  humbly  fiies, 

Indulge  her  fond  ambition   in  thy  ti  iin 

(For  every  Muse  has  in  tl  \  t  |  1       ) 

To  mark  thy  various  full  ill'  ' 

To  mark  that  spirit  nl     1  11 

Rejects  the  allurements  ui  l  n  4  tt  I  i    \i.i 

That  elegant  politene-is   which  excels 

E'en  in  the  judgment  of  pie  umptuous  France 

The  boasted  manners  cf  her  shining  couit 

That  wit,  the  viwd  uiLife}  of  sense. 

The  truth  of  Xature.  wliieh,  with  Attic  point, 

And  kind  well-tL-mpired  satire,  smoothly  keen. 

Steals  through  the  soul,  and  without  pain  corrects. 

Or,  rising  thence  with  yet  a  brighter  flame, 

0  let  me  hail  thee  on  some  glorious  day, 

When  to  the  listening  senate,  ardent,  crowd 

Britannia's  sons  to  hear  her  pleaded  cause. 

Then,  dressed  by  thee,  more  ami.ably  fair. 

Truth  the  soft  robe  nf  mild  Persuasion  wears  : 

Thou  to  asscntiiiL' i;<  ;i-"n  'jIv'-I  again 

Herownenli-lii        ,  ,         >  ilkdfromtheheart. 

The  obedient  i-.i  ■     ••"•■<-■  attend; 

And  e'en  rchu'tLLjit  I'lhIv  I.  .1-  a  while 

Thy  gracious  power,  as  through  the  varied  maze 

Of  eloquence,  now  smooth,  now  cjuick,  now  strong. 

Profound  and  clear,  you  roll  the  copious  flood. 


To  thy  loved  haunt  return,  my  happy  Muse  ; 
For  now,  behold,  the  joyous  winter-days, 
Frosty,  succeed  ;  and  through  the  blue  serene, 
For  sight  too  fine,  the  ethereal  nitre  flies, 
Killing  infectious  damps,  and  the  spent  air 
Storing  afresh  with  elemental  life. 
Close  crowds  the  shining  atmosphere,  and  binds 
Our  strengthened  bodies  in  its  cold  embrace. 
Constringent ;  feeds  and  animates  our  blood  ; 
Refines  our  spirits,  through  the  new-strung  neri 
In  swifter  sallies  darting  to  the  brain  ; 
Whore  sits  the  soul,  intense,  collected,  cool. 
Bright  as  tho  skies,  and  as  the  season  keen. 


All  Nature  feels  the  renovating  force 
Of  Winter,  only  to  the  thoughtless  eye 
In  ruin  seen.     The  frost-eoncocted  glebe 
Draws  in  abundant  vegetable  soul. 
And  gathers  vigor  for  the  coming  year. 
A  stronger  glow  sits  on  the  lively  cheek 
Of  ruddy  fire,  and  luculent  along 
Tho  purer  rivers  flow  ;  their  sullen  deeps. 
Transparent,  open  to  the  shepherd's  gaze. 
And  murmur  hoarser  at  the  fixing  frost. 


FBOST,  ITS  NATURE  ;  THE  STREAM  FREEZING. 

What  art  thou.  Frost  ?  and  whence  are  thy  keen 
Derived,  thou  secret  all-invading  power,         [stores 
Whom  e'en  the  illusive  fluid  cannot  fly  ? 
Is  not  thy  potent  energy,  unseen. 
Myriads  of  little  salts,  or  hooked,  or  shaped 
Like  double  wedges,  and  difi'used  immense 
Through  watei,  earth   and  ether  ?     Henee  at  eve, 
^t    11  iL  1  (  1,  1  ft  m  the  red  horizon  round, 
\  f  Winter  deep  suffused, 

I    ltin„     'er  the  pool 
]  I       aud  in  its  mid  career 

V  n„    tieam.     The  loosened  ice. 

Let  lown  the  floo  1   and  half  dissolved  by  day, 
Rustles  no  moie      but  to  the  sedgy  bank 
Fast  grows  or  gathers  round  the  pointed  stone, 
A  ciystal  pavement,  by  the  breath  of  heaven 
Cemented  firm  ;  till,  seized  from  shore  to  shore, 
The  whole  imprisoned  river  growls  below. 


Loud  rings  the  frozen  earth,  and  hard  reflects 
A  double  noise  ;  while,  at  his  evening  watch, 
The  village  dog  deters  the  nightly  thief  ; 
The  heifer  lows  ;  the  distant  waterfall 
Swells  in  the  breeze  ;  and,  with  the  hasty  tread 
Of  traveller,  the  hollow-sounding  plain 
Shakes  from  afar.     The  full  ethereal  round. 
Infinite  worlds  disclosing  to  the  view. 
Shines  out  intensely  keen  ;  and,  all  one  cope 
Of  starry  glitter,  glows  from  pole  to  pole. 

waterfall;  brook;  forest. — the  shepherd. 
From  pole  to  pole  the  rigid  influence  falls. 
Through  the  still  night,  incessant,  heavy,  strong. 
And  seizes  Nature  fast.     It  freezes  on  ; 
Till  Morn,  late  ri.-in-  .-  ,  tli.'  .li-.^ping  world. 
Lifts  her  pale  cyr  ir.i  ;..  ;,        T  ,.  1,  iqipcars 


The 


l.ab.i 


Prone  from  the  driii|.iii-  lum',  a-ul  dumb  cascade. 
Whose  idle  torrents  only  seem  to  roar. 
The  pendent  icicle  ;  the  frost-work  fair. 
Where  transient  hues  and  fancied  figures  rise  ; 

1  Wide-spouted  o'er  the  hill,  the  frozen  brook, 
A  livid  tract,  eold-gleaming  on  the  morn  ; 
The  forest  bent  beneath  the  plumy  wave  ; 

I  And  by  the  frost  refined  the  whiter  snow. 
Encrusted  hard,  and  sounding  to  tho  tread 
Of  early  shepherd,  as  he  pensive  seeks 
His  pining  flock,  or  from  the  mountain  top. 
Pleased  with  the  slippery  surface,  swift  descends. 


On  blithesome  frolics, bent,  the  youthful  swains, 
While  every  work  of  man  is  laid  at  rest, 
Fond  o'er  the  river  crowd,  in  various  sport 
And  revelry  dissolved  ;  where  mixing  glad. 
Happiest  of  all  the  train  !  the  raptured  boy 
Lashes  the  whirling  top.     Or,  where  the  Rhine 


WINTER —  DECEMBER. 


Bmnohod  out  in  many  a  long  canal  oxtonds, 
From  ovory  province  swarming,  void  of  core, 
liatavia  rushes  forth  ;  and  as  thoy  swoop. 
On  sounding  skates,  a  thousand  different  ways, 
In  circling  poise,  swift  as  the  winds,  along. 
The  then  gay  land  is  maddened  all  to  joy. 
Nor  less  the  northern  courts,  wide  o'er  the  snow, 
Pour  a  new  pomp.     Eager,  on  rapid  sleds. 
Their  vigorous  youth  in  bold  contention  wheel 
The  long-resounding  course.     Meantime,  to  raise 
Tho  monly  strife,  with  highly-blooming  charms, 
Flushed  by  tho  season,  Scandinavia's  dames. 
Or  Russia's  buxom  daughters,  glow  around. 

TUB  SHORT  WLSTEH'S  DIV.  — FEBBL!  KFPBCra  OF  TUg  SCH'S 

Pure,  quick,  and  sportful,  is  the  wholesome  day  j 
But  soon  elapsed.     The  horizontal  sun. 
Broad  o'er  the  south,  hangs  at  its  utmost  noon, 
And,  ineffectual,  strikes  the  gelid  cliCT; 
His  azure  gloss  tho  mountoin  still  maintains. 
Nor  feels  the  feeble  touch.     Perhaps  the  valo 
Relents  a  while  to  the  reflected  ray  ; 
Or  from  the  forest  falls  tho  clustered  snow, 
Myriads  of  gems,  that  in  the  waving  gleam 
Gay-twinkle  as  they  scatter.     Thick  around 
Thunders  the  sport  of  those,  who  with  the  gun, 
And  dog  impatient  bounding  at  the  shot. 
Worse  than  the  season  desolate  tho  fields  ; 
And,  adding  to  the  ruins  of  the  year. 
Distress  the  footed  or  tho  feathered  game. 

AX  ABCTIO  WISTBR.  —  TBe    EXILE    OP    SIDERU.  —  DESOLATE 

But  what  is  this  ?    Our  infant  Winter  sinks, 
Divested  of  his  grandeur,  should  our  eye 
Astonished  shoot  into  the  frigid  zone. 
Whore,  for  relentless  months,  continual  Night 
Holds  o'er  the  glittering  waste  her  starry  reign. 
There,  through  the  prison  of  unbounded  wilds. 
Barred  by  the  hand  of  Nature  from  escape, 
Wide  roams  the  Russian  exile.     Naught  around 
Strikes  his  sad  eye  but  deserta  lost  in  snow  ; 
And  heavy-loaded  groves  ;  and  solid  floods. 
That  stretch  athwart  the  solitary  waste 
Their  icy  horrors  to  the  frozen  main  j 
And  cheerless  towns  far  distant,  never  blessed, 
.Save  when  its  annual  course  the  caravan 
Bends  to  the  golden  coast  of  rich  Cathay,* 
With  news  of  human  kind. 


Yet  there  life  glows  ; 
Yet  cherished  there,  beneath  the  shining  waste, 
Tho  furry  nations  harbor  :  tipped  with  jet. 
Fair  ermines,  spotless  as  the  snows  they  press  ; 
Sables,  of  glossy  black  ;  and  dark  embrowned, 
Or  beauteous  freaked  with  many  a  mingled  hue, 
Thousands  besides,  the  costly  pride  of  courts. 
There,  warm  together  pressed,  tho  trooping  deer 


Sleep  on  tho  new-fallen  snows  ;  and,  scarce  his  head 
Raised  o'er  the  heapy  wreath,  the  branching  elk 
Lies  slumbering  sullen  in  the  white  abyss. 
Tho  ruthless  hunter  wants  nor  dogs  nor  toils. 
Nor  with  the  dread  of  sounding  bows  he  drives 
The  fearful  flying  raco  ;  with  ponderous  clubs, 
As  weak  against  the  mountain-heaps  they  push 
Their  beating  breast  in  vain,  and  piteous  bray. 
He  lays  them  quivering  on  tho  ensanguined  snows. 
And  with  loud  shouts  rejoicing  bears  them  home. 
There  through  tho  piny  forest  half  absorbed, 
Rough  tenant  of  these  shades,  the  shapeless  bear. 
With  dangling  ico  all  horrid,  stalks  forlorn  ; 
Slow-paced,  and  sourer  as  tho  storms  increase, 
He  makes  his  bed  beneath  the  inclement  drift. 
And  with  stern  patience,  scorning  weak  complaint. 
Hardens  his  heart  against  assailing  want. 

TUB   SCYTHIAN   RACE.  —  THE   ARMUBY   OF   PROVIOKSCB. 

Wide  o'er  the  spacious  regions  of  the  north. 
That  see  Bootes  urge  his  tar'lv  nviin, 
A  boisterous  race,  by  fn  I- 1  y  I'mni-'  |  i<  r.ril, 
Who  little  pleasure  kimw  ,n,il  lr;ir  rm  |  liii. 
Prolific  swarm.     They  "ii'i-  r.  lum.-.l  th.   il^ime 
Of  lost  mankind,  in  polished  slavery  sunk  ; 
Drove  martial  horde  on  horde,'  with  dreiiilful  sweep 
Resistless  rushing  o'er  the  enfeebled  south. 
And  gave  the  vanquished  world  another  form. 


No 

such  the 

sons 

uf  Lapland  :  wisely  they 

Despi 
Thcv 

n^'llr 

p.  11, 

III  simple  Nature  gives  j 

Thiv 

..\i'    tip   u 

ni.'U 

i;iins  and  enjoy  their  sto 

No  la 

.  )i"  1 

rule-created  wants, 

Disturb  the  pea 

ccful 

current  of  their  time  : 

And  through  the  restless,  ever-tortured  maze 

Of  pie 

asure,  or 

arabi 

ion,  bid  it  rage. 

Their 


form  their  riche 


These  theii 


1  The  old  r 


rChiD 


Their  rubes,  their  beds,  and  all  their  homely  wealth 

Supply,  their  wholesome  fare  and  cheerful  cups. 

Obsequious  at  their  call,  the  docile  tribo 

Yield  to  the  sled  their  necks,  and  whirl  them  swift 

O'er  hill  and  dale,  heaped  into  ono  expanse 

Of  marbled  snow,  as  far  as  eye  can  sweep, 

With  a  blue  crust  of  ico  unbounded  glazed. 

By  dancing  meteors  then,  that  ceaseless  shako 
A  waving  blaze  refracted  o'er  the  heavens, 
And  vivid  moons,  and  stars  that  keener  play 
M'ith  doubled  lustre  from  the  glossy  waste. 
E'en  in  the  depth  of  polar  night  they  find 
A  wondrous  day  j  enough  to  light  tho  chose. 
Or  guide  their  during  steps  to  Finland  fairs. 

THE     ARCTIC    SPRISO     AMD     SUMMER;     TOE    SrS'S     COrRSE  i 


Wished  Spring  returns  ;  and  from  tho  hazy  south 
While  dim  Aurora  slowly  moves  before, 
1  The  north-west  wind.      -  The  wandering  Scythian  clans. 


RURAL   POETRY. 


The  welcome  sun,  just  verging  up  at  first, 

By  small  degrees  extends  the  swelling  curve, 

Till  seen  at  last  for  gay  rejoicing  months. 

Still  round  and  round  his  spiral  course  he  winds, 

And,  as  he  nearly  dips  his  flaming  orb. 

Wheels  up  again,  and  reascends  the  sky. 

In  that  glad  season,  from  the  lakes  and  floods, 

Where  pure  Niemi's  ^  fairy  mountains  rise, 

And  fringed  with  roses  Tenglio  ^  rolls  his  stream, 

They  draw  the  copious  fry.     With  these,  at  eve, 

They  cheerful  loaded  to  their  tents  repair  ; 

Where,  all  day  long  in  useful  cares  employed. 


kind  unblemished  i 


prepare. 


Thrice  happy  race  !  by  poverty 

From  legal  plunder  and  rapacious  power  : 

In  whom  fell  interest  never  yet  has  sown 

The  seeds  of  vice  :  whose  spotless  swains  ne'er  know 

Injurious  deed,  nor,  blasted  by  the  breath 

Of  faithless  love,  their  blooming  daughters  woe. 


Still  pressing  on,  beyond  Tornea's  lake. 
And  Hecla  flaming  through  a  waste  of  snow, 
And  furthest  Greenland,  to  the  pole  itself, 
Where,  failing  gradual,  life  at  length  goes  out, 
The  Muse  o.xpands  her  solitary  flight ; 
And,  hovering  o'er  the  wild  stupendous  scene. 
Beholds  new  seas  beneath  another  sky.  3 
Throned  in  his  palace  of  cerulean  ice. 
Here  Winter  holds  his  unrejoicing  court ; 
And  through  his  airy  hall  the  loud  misrule 
Of  driving  tempest  is  forever  heard  ; 
Hero  the  grim  tyrant  nieditfitcs  liis  wr;ith  ; 
Here  arms  his  winds  wiHi  :ill-!ii.  hr  i:;  tv.,4. 
Moulds  his  fierce  hail,  :nhl  1 1 .  i  m    -  ,i|.  ;,i-  snow.' 
With  which  he  now  oppn—r-  lull  tlh-  i^lnlic. 

LANCHES  ;   THE  VERT   OCEAN    fBOZE.V. 

Thence  winding  eastward  to  the  Tartar's  coast, 
She  sweeps  the  howling  margin  of  the  main  ; 
Where  undissolving,  from  the  first  of  time. 
Snows  swell  on  snows  amazing  to  the  sky  ; 
And  icy  mountains  high  on  mountains  piled 
Seem  to  the  shivering  sailor  from  afai*, 
Shapeless  and  white,  an  atmosphere  of  clouds. 
Projected  huge,  and  horrid  o'er  the  surge, 
Alps  frown  on  Alps  ;  or,  rushing  hideous  down, 
As  if  old  chaos  were  again  returned, 
Wide-rend  the  deep,  and  shake  the  solid  pole. 
Ocean  itself  nu  lun:;i'r  can  resist 
Tbi'  Inn. Ill, ■,   hiM   ;    1.1,1,  1,1  ,,11   i|.  rage 


Of  tempest  taken  by  the  boundless  frost, 
Is  many  a  fathom  to  the  bottom  chained. 
And  bid  to  roar  no  more  :  a  bleak  expanse. 
Shagged  o'er  with  wavy  rocks,  cheerless  and  void 
Of  every  life,  that  from  the  dreary  months 
Flies  conscious  southward. 


Miserable  they  ! 
Who,  here  entangled  in  the  gathering  ice. 
Take  their  last  look  of  the  descending  sun  ; 
While,  full  of  death,  and  fierci>  with  ttMi-f.,|,l  frost, 
The  long,  long  night,  incamli,  i,t  ,.',  i   tli,  i,   I,,  ,i,ls, 

Falls  horrible.     Such  was  tl,,'  I :,  ,i   ,,-     i , 

As  with  first  prow  (what  have  ,,..(  Iliit.ui,  .li,,nl  !) 

He  for  the  passage  sought,  attempted  since 

So  much  in  vain,  and  seeming  to  be  shut 

By  jealous  Nature  with  eternal  bars. 

In  these  fell  regions,  in  Arzina  caught. 

And  to  the  stony  deep  his  idle  ship 

Immediate  sealed,  he  with  his  hapless  crew. 

Each  full  exerted  at  his  several  task, 

Froze  into  statues  ;  to  the  cordage  glued 

The  sailor,  and  the  pilot  to  the  helm. 

THE  SAMOIEDES,  ETC. —  THE   OBT.  —  GROSS  AND   STDPID  LIFE. 

Hard  by  these  shores,  where  scarce  his  freezing 
Rolls  the  wild  Oby,  live  the  last  of  men  ;      [stream 
And  half  enlivened  by  the  distant  sun. 
That  rears  and  ripens  man,  as  well  as  plants. 
Here  human  nature  wears  its  rudest  form. 
Beep  from  the  piercing  season  stink  in  caves, 
Here  by  dull  fires,  and  with  unjoyous  cheer, 
They  waste  the  tedious  gloom.     Immersed  in  furs, 
Doze  the  gross  race.     Nor  sprightly  jest,  nor  song. 
Nor  tenderness,  they  know  ;  nor  aught  of  life 
Beyond  the  kindred  bears  that  stalk  without. 
Till  morn  at  length,  her  roses  drooping  all, 
Sheds  a  long  twilight  brightening  o'er  their  fields. 
And  calls  the  quivered  savage  to  the  chase. 

PETER     THE     GREAT HIS     CONQUESTS    OVER     NATURE,    THE 

RUSSIANS,   AND    BARBARISM  ;   BIS   HEROIC  SELF-EDUCATION. 

What  cannot  active  government  perform, 
New-moulding  man  ?     Wide-stretching  from  these 
A  people  savage  from  remotest  time,  [shores, 

A  huge  neglected  empire,  one  vast  mind, 
By  Heaven  inspired,  from  Gothic  darkness  called. 
Immortal  Petor  !  first  of  monarchs  !     Ho 
His  stubborn  country  tamed,  her  rocks,  her  fens, 
Her  floods,  her  seas.  !,,t  ill-sutimif tin;^  sons  ; 
And  while  the  ficrn-  I,,,,  l.„ii;,  i,  !,<■  -,ili,Uicd, 
To  more  exalted  soul  !,.■  i„i.,-,l  il,,-  „kui. 
Ye  shades  of  ancient  iiciuus,  yc  uUu  Lulled 
Through  long  successive  ages  to  build  up 
A  laboring  plan  of  state,  behold  at  once 
The  wonder  done  !  behold  the  matchless  prince  ! 
Who  left  his  native  throne,  where  reigned  till  then 
'  Queen   Elizabeth  to  dig- 


A  mighty  shadow  of  unreal  powor  ; 
Who  greatlj  epurned  the  slothful  pomp  of  c 
And  roaming  every  land,  in  every  port 
His  sceptre  laid  aside,  with  glorious  hand 
Unwearied  plying  the  mechnuio  tool, 
Oathcrcd  the  seeds  of  trade,  of  useful  arts. 
Of  civil  wisdom,  and  of  martial  skill. 


Charged  with  the  stores  of  Europe  homo  ho  goes  ! 
Then  cities  rise  amid  the  illumined  waste  ; 
O'er  joyless  deserts  smiles  the  rural  reign  ; 
Far-distant  flood  to  flood  is  social  joined  ; 
The  astonished  Euxinc  hears  the  Baltic  roar  ; 
Proud  navies  ride  on  seas  that  never  foamed 
With  daring  keel  before  ;  and  armies  stretch 
Each  way  their  dazzling  files,  repressing  hero 
The  frantic  Alexander  of  the  North, 
And  awing  there  stern  Othman's  shrinking  sons. 
Sloth  flics  the  land,  and  Ignorance  and  Vice, 
Of  old  dishonor  proud  ;  it  glows  around, 
Taught  by  the  royal  hand  that  roused  the  whole. 
One  scene  of  arts,  of  arms,  of  rising  trade  ; 
For  what  his  wisdom  planned,  and  power  enforced, 
More  potent  still,  his  great  example  showed. 

THB  SOCTH  WISD    THAW.  —  FRKSHRTS  ;    POLAR    ICE    BREAKS 

cp  ;  riELDS  OP  ICE  ;  icedbros. 
JIuttcring,  the  winds  at  eve,  with  blunted  point, 
Blow  hollow-blustering  from  the  south.     Subdued, 
The  frost  resolves  into  a  trickling  thaw. 
Spotted  the  mountains  shine  ;  loose  sleet  descends, 
And  floods  the  country  round.     The  rivers  swell, 
Of  bonds  impatient.     Sudden  from  the  hills. 
O'er  rocks  and  woods,  in  broad  brown  cataracts, 
A  thousand  snow-fed  torrents  shoot  at  onco  ; 
.\nd,  where  they  rush,  the  wide-resounding  plain 
Is  left  one  slimy  waste.     Those  sullen  seas. 
That  washed  the  ungenial  pole,  will  rest  no  more 
Beneath  the  shackles  of  the  mighty  north  ; 
!     llut.  l■nu^ill:;  all  their  waves,  resistless  heave. 
Anil  hark  I  thi-  lengthening  roar  continuous  runs 
luiut  th.'  rifted  deep  :  at  onco  it  bursts, 
I  pilfs  a  thimsand  mountains  to  the  clouds. 

VESSEL    CACOHT    AMONGST    THE    FLOATISO    ICE-FIELDS. 


Ill  fares  the  bark,  with  trembling  wretches  charged, 
That,  tossed  amid  the  floating  fragments,  moors 
Beneath  the  shelter  of  an  icy  isle. 
While  night  o'erwhelms  the  sen,  and  horror  looks 
More  horrible.     Can  human  force  endure 
The  assembled  mischiefs  that  besiege  them  round? 
Heart-gnawing  hunger,  fainting  weariness. 
The  roar  of  winds  and  waves,  the  crush  of  ice, 
Now  ceasing,  now  renewed  with  louder  rage. 
And  in  dire  echoes  bellowing  round  the  main. 
More  to  embroil  the  deep,  Leviathan 
And  his  unwieldy  train,  in  dreadful  sport, 
Tempest  the  loosened  brine, while  through  tho  gloom. 


DECEMBER.  405 

Far  from  tho  bleak,  inhospitable  shore, 
Loading  tho  winds,  is  hoard  the  hungry  howl 
Of  famished  monsters,  there  awaiting  wrecks. 
Yet  Providence,  that  ever-waking  eye. 
Looks  down  with  pity  on  tho  feoblo  toil 
Of  mortals  lost  to  hope,  and  lights  them  safe 
Through  all  this  dreary  labyrinth  of  fate. 

TBE     DEAD     OF     WtSTKR.  —  THE    SEASONS     A     PICTCRE     OP 
UCHAX  LIFE.  — ALL  13  VANITT  EXCEPT  VIRTUE. 

'Tis  done  !  dread  Winter  spreads  his  latest  glooms, 
And  reigns  tremendous  o'er  the  conquered  year. 
How  dead  tho  vegetable  kingdom  lies  ! 
How  dumb  the  tuneful !     Horror  wide  extends 
His  desolate  domain.     Behold,  fund  man  ! 
See  here  thy  pictured  life  ;   pass  some  few  years. 
Thy  flowering  Spring,  thy  Summer's  ardent  strength, 
Thy  sober  Autumn  fading  into  ago, 
And  pale  concluding  Winter  comes,  at  last, 
.\nd  shuts  tho  scene.     Ah  !  whither  now  are  fled 
Those  dreams  of  greatness,  those  unsolid  hopes 
Of  happiness  —  those  longings  after  fame  — 
Those  restless  cares  — those  busy  bustling  days  — 
Those    gay-spent,    festive    nights,    those    veering 

thoughts. 
Lost  between  good  and  ill,  that  shared  thy  life? 
All  now  are  vanished  !     Virtue  sole  survives, 
Immortal,  never-failing  friend  of  man. 
His  guide  to  happiness  on  high. 

SPRING  IS  HEAVEN.  —  ALL  MORAL  PROBLEMS  SOLVED. 

And  see  ! 
'T  is  come^  the  glorious  morn  !  the  second  birth 

Ofli'MMH  aiil  <  irtli  '      \\v:ii:'-tiing  Nature  hears 

Tl„.    ,,.    .>..•:.    i:i:..     •■-    .:    1       ■.■:•!    -lartS  tolife, 

X,i  i-vi  v  Im  ij  !,;■  I.'  •!  :  ■!  .:i.  I !  -Ml  pain  and  death 

l.\,r.A.  r  IVi  r.     TIm    -'1-  ,it  '  ii  1  iial  scheme. 

Involving  all,  auJ  iu  ii  pi-rtVct  whole 

Uniting,  as  the  prospect  wider  spreads. 

To  Reason's  eye  refined  clears  up  apace. 

Ye  vainly  wise  !  ye  blind  presumptuous  !  now, 

Confounded  iu  the  dust,  adore  that  Power 

And  Wisdom  oft  arraigned  :  see  now  the  cause 

Why  unassuming  Worth  in  secret  lived. 

And  died  neglected,  —  why  tho  good  man's  share 

In  life  was  gall  and  bitterness  of  soul,  — 

Why  the  lone  widow  and  her  orphans  pined 

In  starving  solitude,  while  Luxury 

In  palaces  lay  straining  her  low  thought 

To  form  unreal  wants,  —  why  heaven-born  Truth, 

And  Moderation  fair,  wore  tho  red  marks 

Of  Superstition's  scourge,  —  why  licensed  Pain, 

That  cruel  spoiler,  that  embosomed  foe. 

Embittered  all  our  bliss.     Ye  good  distressed  ! 

Ye  noble  few  !  who  here  unbending  stand 

Beneath  life's  pressure,  yet  bear  up  a  while, 

And  what  your  bounded  view,  which  only  saw 

A  little  part,  deemed  evil,  is  no  more  : 

Tho  storms  of  wintry  time  will  quickly  pass, 

And  one  unbounded  Spring  encircle  all. 


|iisioniIs   for  J^nnnhr. 

SHENSTONE'S   "ABSENCE." 

SHENSTONE'S   "DISAPPOINTMENT." 

Ye  shepherds  so  cheerful  and  gay, 

Ye  shepherds,  give  ear  to  my  lay, 

Whose  flocks  never  ciirelessly  roam  ; 

And  take  no  more  heed  of  my  sheep  : 

Should  Corydon's  happen  to  stray, 

They  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  stray, 

0,  call  the  poor  wanderers  home. 

I  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  weep.     . 

Allow  me  to  muse  and  to  sigh, 

Yet  do  not  my  folly  reprove  : 

Nor  talk  of  the  change  that  ye  find  ; 

She  was  fair,  and  my  passion  begun  ; 

None  once  was  so  watchful  as  I  t  — 

She  smiled,  and  I  could  not  but  love  ;                     ! 

I  hare  left  my  dear  Phillis  behind. 

She  is  faithless,  and  I  am  undone. 

Now  I  know  what  it  is  to  have  strove 

Perhaps  I  was  void  of  all  thought ; 

With  the  torture  of  doubt  and  desire  ; 

Perhaps  it  was  plain  to  foresee 

What  it  is  to  admire  and  to  love, 

That  a  nymph  so  complete  would  be  sought 

And  to  leave  her  we  love  and  admire. 

By  a  swain  more  engaging  than  me. 

Ah  !  lead  forth  my  flock  in  the  morn. 

Ah  !  love  every  hope  can  inspire  : 

And  the  damps  of  each  evening  repel : 

It  banishes  wisdom  the  while  ; 

Alas  !  I  am  faint  and  forlorn  :  — 

And  the  lip  of  the  nymph  we  admire 

I  have  bade  my  dear  Phillis  farewell. 

Seems  forever  adorned  with  a  smile  ! 

Since  Phillis  vouchsafed  me  a  look, 

She  is  faithless,  and  I  am  undone  ; 

I  never  once  dreamed  of  my  vine  ; 

Ye  that  witness  the  woes  I  endure, 

May  I  lose  both  my  pipe  and  my  crook. 

Let  reason  instruct  you  to  shun 

If  I  knew  of  a  kid  that  was  mine  ! 

What  it  cannot  instruct  you  to  cure. 

I  prized  every  hour  that  wont  by. 

Beware  how  you  loiter  in  vain 

Beyond  all  that  had  pleased  me  before  ; 

Amid  nymphs  of  a  higher  degree  : 

But  now  they  are  passed,  and  I  sigh. 

It  is  not  for  me  to  explain 

And  I  grieve  that  I  prized  them  no  more. 

How  fair  and  how  fickle  they  be. 

But  why  do  I  languish  in  vain? 

Alas  !  from  the  day  that  we  met 

Why  wander  thus  pensively  here  ? 

What  hope  of  an  end  to  my  woes. 

0,  why  did  I  come  from  the  plain 

When  I  cannot  endure  to  forget 

Where  I  fed  on  the  smiles  of  my  dear? 

The  glance  that  undid  my  repose  ! 

They  tell  me,  my  favorite  maid. 

Yet  time  may  diminish  the  pain  : 

The  pride  of  that  valley,  is  flown  ; 

The  flower,  and  the  shrub,  and  the  tree. 

Alas  !  where  with  her  I  have  strayed, 

Which  I  reared  for  her  pleasure  in  vain. 

I  could  wander  with  pleasure  alone. 

In  time  may  have  comfort  for  me. 

When  forced  the  fair  nymph  to  forego, 

The  sweets  of  a  dew-sprinkled  rose, 

What  anguish  I  felt  at  my  heart ! 

The  sound  of  a  murmuring  stream, 

Yet  I  thought,  but  it  might  not  be  so. 

The  peace  which  from  solitude  flows, 

'Twas  with  pain  when  she  saw  me  depart. 

Henceforth  shall  bo  Corydon's  theme. 

She  gazed  as  I  slowly  withdrew  ; 

High  transports  are  shown  to  the  sight. 

My  path  I  could  hardly  discern  ; 

But  we  are  not  to  find  them  our  own  : 

,             So  sweetly  she  bade  me  adieu, 

Fate  never  bestowed  such  delight 

1                 I  thought  that  she  bade  me  return. 

As  I  with  my  Phillis  had  known. 

The  pilgrim  that  journeys  all  day 

0,  ye  woods,  spread  your  branches  apace  ; 

To  visit  some  far-distant  shrine, 

To  your  deepest  recesses  I  fly  ; 

If  he  hear  but  a  relic  away, 

I  would  hide  with  the  beasts  of  the  chase, 

Is  happy,  nor  heard  to  repine. 

I  would  vanish  from  every  eye.    . 

Thus,  widely  removed  from  the  fair, 

Yet  my  reed  shall  resound  through  the  grove 

Where  my  vows,  my  devotion,  1  owe. 

With  the  same  sad  complaint  it  begun  ; 

Soft  hope  is  the  relic  I  bear, 

How  she  smiled,  and  I  could  not  but  love  ; 

And  my  solaxje  wherever  I  go. 

Was  faithless,  and  I  am  undone  ! 

(1  valiiir'5    "p;iri':.l)    ,ilciustrr/' 


True  Chrisllan  rwignatlon 
Ilc^istcr  a  melanclinly  record.  A  (lying  man,  who  at 
lenijtli  sends  for  a  i)rii-st ;  f.)r  what  imrposc  ?  answered. 
Old  Collet,  or  the  inn,  an  instance  of  Dr.  Young's  slow- 
sudden  death  ;  his  character  and  conduct.  The  manners 
and  management  of  the  Widow  Qoe  ;  her  successful  at- 
tention to  bu.-iiiitss  ;  her  decease  unexpected.  The  infant 
boy  of  Gerard  Ablelt  dies  ;  reflections  on  his  death,  and 
tlic  surriror,  his  sisler-twin.  The  lUncral  of  the  deceased 
lady  of  the  manor  described  ;  her  neglected  mansion  ; 
undertnlter  and  train ;  the  character  which  her  monu- 
ment will  hereafter  display.  Burial  of  an  ancient  maiden; 
some  former  drawback  on  her  virgin  fame  ;  description  of 
her  house  and  household  i  her  manners,  apprehensions, 
death.  Isaac  Ashford,  a  virtuous  peasant,  dies;  his  manly 
character  ;  reluctance  to  enter  the  poor-house  ;  and  why. 
Misfortune  and  derangement  of  intellect  in  Robin  Dinglcy; 
whence  they  proceeded ;  he  is  not  restrained  by  misery 
from  a  wandering  life  ;  his  various  returns  to  Ijis  ikhimIi  ; 
his  final  return.  Wife  of  farmer  Franklii  li  n  ,  him 
of  life  ;  affliction  in  cansc<|uence  of  sii.  l< 
choly  view  of  herhouse,  &c.,  on  her  f;iii .' 


wife  ;  her  character  ;  and 

0|>posed  by  Doctor  Olibb  ;  opposition  in  tin-  ]..iri3li  ;  iir- 
(Tumcnt  of  tlie  doctor  ;  of  Leali ;  her  failure  and  decease. 
Burial  of  Roger  Cuff,  a  sailor  ;  his  enmity  to  his  family  ; 
how  it  originated  ;  his  experiment  and  its  consequence. 
Tlie  Register  terminates;  a  bell  heard  ;  inquiry  for  whom. 
The  sexton.  Character  of  old  Dibble,  and  the  five  rectors 
whom  he  served.    Reflections.    Conclusion. 


DKATB-I 

There  was,  't  is  said,  and  I  believe,  a  time, 
When  humble  Christians  died  with  views  sublime 
Mhcu  all  were  ready  for  their  faith  to  bleed, 
But  few  to  write  or  wrangle  for  their  creed  ; 
M'ben  lively  faith  upheld  the  sinlting  heart, 
And  friends  assured  to  meet,  prepared  to  part ; 
When  love  felt  hope,  when  sorrow  grew  serene. 
And  all  was  comfort,  in  the  death-bed  scene. 

Alas  !  when  now  the  gloomy  king  they  wait, 
T  is  weakness  yielding  to  resistless  fate  ; 
Like  wretched  men  upon  tho  ocean  cost. 
They  labor  hard  and  struggle  to  tho  Inst  ; 
'  Hope  against  hope,'  and  wildly  gaze  around, 
In  search  of  help,  that  never  shall  bo  found  ; 
Nor,  till  the  last  strong  billow  stops  tho  breath, 
Will  they  believe  them  in  the  jaws  of  death  ! 

GLOOMY    RCTKOSPECTIOS. — RESIGNATION    fSCSL-AL. 

When  these  my  records  I  reflecting  read, 
And  find  what  ills  these  numerous  births  succeed  ; 
What  powerful  griefs  these  nuptial  tics  attend, 
AVith  what  regret  these  painful  journeys  end  ; 
When  from  the  cradle  to  tho  grave  I  look. 
Mine  I  conceive  a  melancholy  book. 

Where  now  is  perfect  resignation  seen  ? 
Alas  !  it  is  not  on  tho  village-green,  — 
I  'vo  seldom  known,  though  I  have  oflon  read| 


I  Of  happy  peasants  on  their  dying  bed  j 

Whoso  looks  proclaimed  that  sunshine  of  tho  breast, 
(  That  more  than  hope,  that  henvon  itself  expressed. 

COMMON  PEATU-UED  SCENES. 

What  I  behold  are  feverish  fits  of  strife, 
I  'Twijct  fears  of  dying  and  desire  of  life  ; 
Those  earthly  hopes,  that  to  the  last  endure  ; 
Those  fears,  that  hopes  superior  fail  to  cure  ; 
At  best,  that  sad  submission  to  the  doom. 
That,  turning  from  tho  danger,  lets  it  come. 
Sick  lies  tho  man,  bewildered,  lost,  afraid, 
His  spirits  vanquished  and  his  strength  decayed  ; 
No  hope  the  friend,  the  nurse,  tho  doctor,  lend  — 
'  Call  then  a  priest,  and  fit  him  for  his  end  ;' 
A  priest  is  called,  't  is  now,  alas  !  too  late, 
Heath  enters  with  him,  at  tho  cottage  gate  ; 
'  '1-  time  allowed  —  ho  goes,  assured  to  find 
The  self-commending,  all-cunfiding  mind  ; 
And  sighs  to  hear  what  we  may  justly  call 
Death's  Commonplace,  the  train  of  thought  in  all. 

'True,  I'm  :i  .-hi,,.-.;  !.■.  l.ii  i,.   I„  _.,„,_ 

'But  trust  ill  II..  I  ■;,.  I  .  1    ;,i •, 

(Such  cool  ciJiil.-M  i'li   II' ij.i-  -I    i   I  1  :iii.       t  \.  iU'  ! 

Such  claim  on  meny,  ao  a  .■.inuers  ught  '.) 

'  I  know  mankind  are  frail,  that  God  is  good. 

And  none  have  lived  as  wisdom  wills  they  should  ; 

We  'ro  sorely  tempted  in  a  world  like  this  ; 

All  men  have  done,  and  I,  liko  all,  amiss  ; 

But  now,  if  spared,  it  is  my  full  intent 

To  think  about  beginning  to  repent : 

Wrongs  against  me  I  pardon,  great  and  small. 

And  if  I  die,  I  die  in  pence  with  all.' 

His  merits  thus  and  not  his  sins  confessed, 

ne  speaks  his  hopes  and  leaves  to  heaven  tho  rest. 

Alas  !  arc  these  tho  prospects,  dull  and  cold. 

That  dying  Christians  to  their  priests  unfold  7 

Or  mends  tho  prospect,  when  the  enthusiast  cries, 

'  I  die  assured  ! '  and  in  a  rapturo  dies  ? 

PROPER   DEATH-BED   FEELINGS    DESCRIBED. 

Ah,  where  that  humble,  self-abasing  mind, 
With  that  confiding  spirit  shall  wc  find  ; 
That  feels  the  useful  pain  repentance  brings. 
Dejection's  sorrows  and  contrition's  stings  ; 
And  then  the  hope  that  Heaven  these  griofs  approve, 
And  lastly  joy  that  springs  from  pardoning  lovo  t 

Such  have  I  seen  in  death,  and  much  doploro 
So  many  dying  —  that  I  see  no  more  : 
Iio  !  now  my  records,  where  I  grieve  to  trace, 
How  death  has  triumphed  in  so  short  a  spaco  ; 


RURAL    POETKY. CRABBE. 


Who  are  the  dead,  how  died  they,  I  relate, 
And  snatch  some  portion  of  their  acts  from  fate. 


With  Andrew  Collet  we  the  year  begin, 
The  blind,  fat  landlord  of  the  old  Crown-Inn  : 
Big  as  his  butt,  and  for  the  self-same  use. 
To  take  in  stores  of  strong,  fermenting  juice. 
On  his  huge  chair  beside  the  fire  he  sate, 
In  revel  chief,  and  umpire  in  debate  ; 
Each  night  his  string  of  vulgar  talcs  he  told. 
When  ale  was  cheap,  and  baehelurs  were  bold  ; 
His  heroes  all  were  famous  in  their  days, 
Cheats  were  his  boast,  and  drunkards  had  his  praise. 
'  One  in  three  draughts  three  mugs  of  ale  took  down. 
As  mugs  were  then  — the  champion  of  the  Crown  ; 
For  thrice  three  days  another  lived  on  ale, 
And  knew  no  change  but  that  of  mild  and  stale  ; 
Two  thirsty  soakers  watched  a  vessel's  side, 
When  he  the  tap  with  dextrous  hand  applied  ; 
Nor  from  their  seats  departed,  till  they  found 
That  butt  was  out,  and  heard  the  mournful  sound.' 

lie  praised  a  poacher,  precious  child  of  fun  ! 
Who  shot  the  keeper  with  his  own  spring-gun  ; 
Nor  less  the  smuggler  who  the  exciseman  tied. 
And  left  him  hanging  at  the  birch-wood  side, 
To  ,.ori-h  there  ;  -  h„t  rnie  whn  .nw  him  hang 


The  night's  amusements  kept  him  through  the  day. 

He  sang  the  praises  of  those  times,  when  all 
'For  cards  and  dice  as  for  thrii  ill  inl;  i,ii^!,t  mil  ; 
When  justice  winked  on  e\rn   |,,,i,i|    iru. 
And  ten-pins  tumbled  in  t!h'  ].:ii '.  vnw," 

He  told,  when  angry  wm-  prn\Mkrii  i,,  rinl, 
Or  drive  a  third-day  drunkard  frum  his  ale, 
■\That  were  his  triumphs,  and  how  great  the  skill 
That  won  the  vexed  virago  to  his  will  ; 
Who  raving  came,  — then  talked  in  milder  strain, — 
Then  wept,  —  then  drank,  and  pledged  her  spouse 

Such  were  his  themes  :  how  knaves  o'er  laws  prevail. 
Or,  when  made  eaiilivr-',  huw  tiny  fly  from  jail  ; 
The  young  how  l.rav-  ,  iir.«  niMlr  were  the  old  ; 
And  oaths  atte.-itrii  all  iliaf  |..llv  lold. 

On  death  lil,r  lii-  iihai  iianir  -hall  we  bestow, 
Sovery.-iai.l.n,  ;, ,  I  .<.  i,iv  -l,a,,  ? 
'Twas..|..v.  ;— .||.i:i-r,  aii'^iii.niiiig  year  by  year. 
Showed  the  glim  lung  by  giadual  steps  broughtnear: 
'T  was  not  less  sudden  ;  —  in  the  night  he  died. 
He  drank,  he  swore,  he  jested,  and  he  lied  ; 
Thus  aiding  folly  with  departing  breath  :  — 
'  Beware,  Lorenzo,  the  slow-sudden  death.' 


Next  died  the  Widow  Goe,  an  active  dame,  j 

Famed  ten  miles  round,  and  worthy  all  her  fame  ;      I 
She  lost  her  husband  when  their  loves  were  young 
But  kept  her  farm,  her  credit,  and  her  tongue  : 


Full  thirty  years  she  ruled  with  matchless  skill. 
With  guiding  judgment  and  resistless  will ; 
Advice  she  scorned,  rebellions  she  suppressed. 
And  sons  and  servants,  bowed  at  her  behest. 
Like  that  great  man's  who  to  his  Saviour  came 
Were  the  strong  words  of  this  commanding  dame  ; 
■Come,'  if  she  said,  they  came  ;  if  'go,'  were  gone; 
And  if  'do  this,'  that  instant  it  was  done  : 
Her  maidens  told  she  was  all  eye  and  ear, 
In  darkness  saw  .and  could  at  distance  hear  ; 
No  parish  business  in  the  place  could  stir. 
Without  direction  or  assent  from  her  ; 
In  turn,  she  took  each  office  as  it  fell  ; 
Knew  all  their  duties,  and  discharged  them  well ; 
The  lazy  vagrants  in  her  presence  shook. 


And  pregn 

mt  dai 

Who  looked  on  w 

Who  felt  w 

ith  roi 

.She  matehe 

d  both 

And  lent  tl 

em  ev 

Yet  ceaseli 

-s  ^till 

The  workii 

Like  that  i 

odustri 

her  mind, 


tinnvc,  alert,  alive, 
II  or  empty  hive  ; 
iiud,  no  thoughts  of  sex, 
No  cares  of  love,  could  her  chaste  soul  perplex  ; 
But  when  our  farmers  made  their  amorous  vows. 
She  talked  of  market-steeds  and  patent  ploughs. 
Not  unemployed  her  evenings  passed  away. 
Amusement  closed  as  business  waked  the  day  ; 
When  to  her  toilet's  brief  concern  she  ran. 
And  conversation  with  her  friends  began  ; 
Who  all  were  welcome  at  her  board  to  share. 
And  joyous  neighbors  praised  her  Christmas  fare  ; 
That  none  around  might  in  their  scorn  complain 
I'l  i;n.-i|,  liue  as  greedy  in  her  gain. 

I  !in-  hmg  she  reigned,  admired  if  not  approved, 
I'l  a  i-r>l  it  not  honored,  feared  if  not  beloved  ; 
\Vlien,  as  the  busy  days  of  spring  drew  near. 
That  called  for  all  the  forecast  of  the  year  ; 
When  lively  hope  the  rising  crops  surveyed. 
And  April  promised  what  September  paid  ; 
AVhen  strayed  her  lambs  where  gorse  and  green- 
weed  grow  ; 
When  rose  her  grass  in  richer  vales  below  ; 
When  pleased  she  looked  on  all  the  smiling  land. 
And  viewed  the  hinds  who  wrought  at  her  command. 
As  Bridget  churned  the  butter  for  her  hand 
(Geese,  hens,  and  turkeys  following  where  she  went) : 
Then,  dread  o'ercame  her  —  that  her  days  were  spent. 

'  Bless  me  !   I  die,  and  not  a  warning  given,  — 
With  much  to  do  on  earth,  and  all  for  heaven  ! 
No  reparation  for  my  soul's  affairs. 
No  leave  petitioned  for  the  barn's  repairs  ; 
Accounts  perplexed,  my  interest  yet  unpaid. 

My  mind  unsettled,  and  my  will  unmade  ; 

A  lawyer  haste,  and  in  your  way  a  priest  ; 

And  let  mo  die  in  one  good  work,  at  least.' 

She  spake,  and  trembling  dropped  upon  her  knees. 

Heaven  in  her  eye,  and  in  her  hand  her  keys  : 

And  as  the  more  she  found  her  life  decay. 

She  grasped  with  greater  force  those  signs  of  sway  ; 


WINTER  —  DECEMBER. 


Then  fell  and  died  !  —  In  linsto  her  sons  drew  near, 
And  dropped  in  haste  the  tributary  tear, 
Then  from  the  adhering  clasp  the  keys  unbound, 
And  consolation  for  their  sorrows  found. 


:nB  DKATU  OP   AN  INFANT. 

Death  has  his  infant-train  ;  hia  bony  arm 
Strikes  from  the  baby-cheek  the  rosy  charm  ; 
The  brightest  oyo  his  glaiing  film  makes  dim, 
And  his  cold  touch  sets  fast  the  lithcst  limb  j 
He  scijed  the  sickening  hoy,  to  Gerard  lent, ' 
When  three  days'  life  in  foeblo  cries  wore  spent  ; 
In  pain  brought  forth,  those  painful  hours  to  stay, 
To  breathe  in  pain,  and  sigh  ita  soul  away  ! 

'  But  why  thus  lent,  if  thus  recalled  again. 
To  cause  and  feel,  to  live  and  die  in  pain  ? ' 
Or  rather  say,  Why  grievous  these  appear, 
If  all  it  i.a>  -  I".  1,.  ,u,  !,•<  utornal  year  ; 
If  thcrr  -.1  1  -   i-  .11,1  |.ii.  ..us  sighs  secure 
Deli"ht-  iImi  liM    wli.n  worlds  no  more  endure? 

The  sL-t.  r--|.iut  l"ii;i  iii:iy  lodge  below. 
And  paius  from  nature,  pains  from  reason,  know  ; 
Through  all  the  common  ills  of  life  may  run, 
liy  hope  perverted,  and  by  love  undone  ; 
A  wife's  distress,  a  mother's  pangs,  may  dread, 
A  widow's  tears  in  bitter  anguish  shed  ; 
Jlay  at  old  age  arrive,  through  numerous  harms. 
To  bear  a  grandchild  in  those  feeble  arms  ; 
Nor  till  by  years  of  want  and  grief  oppressed. 
Shall  the  sad  spirit  flee  and  be  at  rest ! 

Yet  happier  therefore  shall  we  deem  the  boy, 
Snat«:hcd  from  life's  anxious  cares  and  dangerous  joy ! 

Not  90  !  for  then  would  love  divine  in  vain 
Send  all  the  burthens  weary  men  sustain  ; 
All  that  now  check  the  passions,  when  they  rage, 
Youth's  disappointments,  the  regrets  of  oge  ; 
All  that  now  bid  us  hope,  believe,  endure. 
Our  sorrow's  comfort,  and  our  vice's  cure  ; 
All  that  for  heaven's  high  joys  the  spirits  train. 
And  charity,  the  crown  of  all,  were  vain. 

Blest  is  the  nursling  never  taught  to  sing. 
But  thrust  untimely  from  iU  mother's  wing  ; 
Or  the  grown  warbler,  who,  with  grateful  voice. 
Sings  its  own  joy,  and  makes  the  grove  rejoice  ; 
Because,  ere  yet  ho  charmed  the  attentive  oar, 
Ilard  were  his  trials,  and  his  pains  severe  ? 

Nc.\t  died  the  lady  who  yon  hall  possessed  ; 
And  here  they  brought  her  noble  bones  to  rest. 
In  town  she  dwelt ;  —  forsaken  stood  tho  hall, 
^Vorms  ate  the  floors,  tho  tapestry  fled  the  wall  ; 
No  Ore  the  kitchen's  cheerless  grate  displayed; 
No  cheerful  light  the  long-closed  sash  conveyed  ! 
The  crawling  worm,  that  turns  a  summer-fly. 
Here  spun  his  shroud,  and  laid  him  up  to  die 
The  wiiitcr-doath.     Upon  the  bed  of  state. 
The  bat.  shi  ill-shrieking,  wooed  his  bickering  mate: 
To  empty  ronins  the  curious  came  no  more. 
From  empty  cellars  turned  the  angry  poor. 
And  surly  beggars  cursed  the  over-bolted  door. 
I  See  p.  319. 


To  one  small  room  the  steword  found  his  way. 
Where  tenants  follow  to  complain  and  pay  ; 
Yet  no  complaint  before  tho  lady  came, 
Tho  feeling  servant  spared  tho  feeble  damo  ; 
Who  saw  hor  farms  with  his  observing  eyes. 
And  answered  all  requests  with  his  replies. 
Sho  came  not  down  her  falling  groves  to  view  ; 
Why  should  sho  know  what  one  so  faithful  knew? 
Why  como  from  many  clamorous  tongues  to  hear 
What  one  so  just  might  whisper  in  her  car  ? 
Her  oaks  or  acres  why  with  care  explore. 
Why  learn  tho  wants,  the  sufferings,  of  the  poor. 
When  one  so  knowing  all  their  worth  could  trace. 
And  one  so  piteous  governed  in  hor  place  ? 

TUS  HEABTIESS  OBSUQtHlH. 

Lo  !  now,  what  dismal  sons  of  darkness  come. 
To  bear  this  daughter  of  indulgence  homo  ! 
Tragedians  all,  and  well  arranged  in  black  ! 
AVho  nature,  feeling,  force,  expression,  lack  ;— 
Who  cause  no  tear,  but  gloomily  pass  by. 
And  shake  their  sables  in  the  wearied  eye. 
That  turns  dis-u.-to.l  trum  the  i,..,m|»,ih  .■^ceno, 

Proud  without  _-i,iii.i'  .11.  uii! I  Ml .11  uR-an! 

The  tear  r.u-  l,n.. m  '    '     .•!    . 

For  worth  ik'-.  i  '  i  '  o.     i_ii  i:.  m  i .  .    .n  ll.iws  ; 

E'en  woll-a-igui-d  l',.>.-u,u  l..f  ..ui  .- us  cull. 

And  real  tears  for  mimic  miseries  fall  :  — 
But  this  poor  farce  has  neither  truth  nor  art, 
To  please  the  fancy  or  to  touch  the  heart  ; 
Unliko  tho  diukui-^  .-t  ihr  -ky,  that  pours 
On  the  dry  Ki'mn'l  'i-  L  1 1  ili'iu;.,'  showers  ; 
Unliko  to  thiit  niiiili  .-Ink.  -  tliii  soul  with  dread 
When  thunders  roar  and  iorky  fires  are  shed  ; 
Dark  but  not  awful,  dismal  but  yet  mean, 
With  anxious  bustle  moves  the  cumbrous  scene  ; 
Presents  no  objects,  tender  or  profound. 
But  spreads  its  cold,  unmeaning  gloom  around. 

When  woes  are  feigned,  how  ill  such  forms  oppear. 
And,  0  !  how  needless,  when  the  woo  's  sincere. 

Slow  to  tho  vault  they  come  with  heavy  tread. 
Bending  beneath  the  lady  and  her  lead  ; 
A  case  of  elm  surrounds  that  ponderous  chest. 
Close  on  that  case  the  crimson  velvet 's  pressed  ; 
Ungenerous  this,  that  to  tho  worm  denies. 
With  niggard  caution,  his  appointed  prize  ; 
For  now,  ero  yet  he  works  his  tedious  way, 
Through  cloth,  and  wood,  and  metal,  to  his  prey, 
That  prey,  dissolving,  shall  a  mass  remain. 
That  Fancy  loathes  and  worms  themselves  disdain. 

But,  SCO  !  the  master-mourner  makes  his  way, 
To  end  his  office,  for  tho  coffined  clay  ; 
Pleased  that  our  rustic  men  and  maids  behold 
Uis  plato  like  silver,  and  his  studs  like  gold. 
As  they  approach  to  spell  tho  ago,  tho  name. 
And  all  tho  titles  of  the  illustrious  damo. 


This  as  (my  duty  done)  some  scholar  i 
A  village-father  looked  disdain,  and  said 


410 


KURAL   POETRY.  —  CRABBE. 


'  Away,  my  friends  !  why  take  such  pains  to  know 
What  some  brave  marble  soon  in  church  shall  show  ? 
Where  not  alone  her  gracious  name  shall  stand, 
But  how  she  lived,  the  blessing  of  the  land  ; 
How  much  we  all  deplored  the  noble  dead, 
What  groans  we  uttered,  and  what  tears  we  shed  ; 
Tears  true  as  those  that  in  the  sleepy  eyes 
Of  weeping  cherubs  on  the  stone  shall  rise  ; 
Tears  true  as  those  that,  ere  she  found  her  grave. 
The  noble  lady  to  our  sorrows  gave.' 

THE   PRUDISH  SPINSTER. 

Down  by  the  church-way  walk,  and  where  the 

Winds  round  the  chancel,  like  a  shepherd's  crook  ; 
In  that  small  house,  with  those  green  pales  before. 
Where  jasmine  trails  on  either  side  the  door  ; 
Where  those  dark  shrubs,  that  now  grow  wild  at  will. 
Were  clipped  in  form,  and  tantalized  with  skill  ; 
Where  cockles  blanched,  and  pebbles  neatly  spread, 
Formed  shining  borders  for  the  larkspurs'  bed  ;  — 
There  lived  a  lady,  wise,  austere,  and  nice. 
Who  showed  her  virtue  by  her  scorn  of  vice  ; 
In  the  dear  fashions  of  her  youth  she  dressed, 
A  pea-green  Joseph  was  her  favorite  vest  ; 
Erect  she  stood,  she  walked  with  stately  mien,  [lean. 
Tight  was  her  length  of  stays,  and  she  was  tall  and 

There  long  she  lived  in  maiden  state  immured. 
From  looks  of  love  and  treacherous  man  secured  ; 
Though  evil  fame  (but  that  was  long  before) 
Had  blown  her  dubious  blast  at  Catharine's  door:  — 
A  captain  thither  rich  from  India  came. 
And,  though  a  cousin  called,  it  touched  her  fame  ^ 
Her  annual  stipend  rose  from  his  behest. 
And  all  the  long-prized  treasures  she  possessed  : 
If  aught  like  joy  a  while  appeared  to  stay 
In  that  stern  face,  and  chase  those  frowns  away, 
'T  was  when  those  treasures  she  disposed  for  view. 
And  heard  the  praises  to  their  splendor  due  : 


Silks  beyond  price,  so  rich  they  'd  stand  alone. 
And  diamonds  blazing  on  the  buckled  zone  ; 
Rows  of  rare  pearls,  by  curious  workmen  set, 
And  bracelets  fair,  in  box  of  glossy  jet ; 
Bright  polished  amber,  precious  from  its  size. 
Or  forms  the  fairest  fancy  could  devise  : 
Her  drawers  of  cedar  shut  with  secret  springs. 
And  held  the  golden  wateh,  the  ruby  rings  ; 
Letters,  long  proofs  of  love,  and  verses  fine 
Round  the  pinked  rims  of  crisped  valentine. 
Her  China  closet,  cause  of  daily  care. 
For  woman's  wonder,  held  her  pencilled  ware  ; 
That  pictured  wealth  of  China  and  Japan, 
Like  its  cold  mistress,  shunned  the  eye  of  man. 

Her  neat  small  room,  adorned  with  maiden  taste, 
A  clipped  French  puppy  first  of  favorites  graced. 
A  parrot  next,  but  dead,  and  stuffed  with  art 
(For  Poll,  when  living,  lost  the  lady's  heart. 
And  then  his  life  ;  for  he  was  heard  to  speak 
Such  frightful  words  as  tinged  the  lady's  cheek) ; 


Unhappy  bird  !  who  had  no  power  to  prove, 
Save  by  such  speech,  his  gratitude  and  love. 
A  gray  old  cat  his  whiskers  licked  beside  ; 
A  type  of  sadness  in  the  house  of  pride. 
The  polished  surface  of  an  India  chest, 
A  glassy  globe,  in  frame  of  ivory  prest  j 
Where  swam  two  finny  creatures  ;  one  of  gold. 
Of  silver  one  ;  both  beauteous  to  behold  : 
All  these  were  formed  the  guiding  taste  to  suit  ; 

The  beasts  well  maim.  !■  I,  1  I'l'    ntH,~mute  : 

A  widowed  aunt  wa  ■  i '  1 1 y  need 

The  nymph  to  flattr.    I     ■  i.  nl  ; 

Who,  veiling  well  h.r    .in,  .  i.  In.   .1  thf  clog. 
Mute  as  the  fish,  and  fawning  as  thr  dug. 

EARTHLY  AND    HEAVENLY  TREASURES. 

As  years  increased,  these  treasures,  her  delight. 
Arose  in  value,  in  their  owner's  sight :  — 
A  miser  knows  that,  view  it  as  he  will, 
A  guinea  kept  is  but  a  guinea  still : 
And  so  he  puts  it  to  its  proper  use, 
That  something  more  this  guinea  may  produce  :  — 
But  silks  and  rings  in  the  possessor's  eyes, 
The  oftener  seen,  the  more  in  value  rise, 
And  thus  are  wisely  hoarded,  to  bestow 
On  pride  that  governs  pleasure  that  will  grow. 
But  what  availed  their  worth  —  if  worth  had  they  — 
In  the  sad  summer  of  her  slow  decay  ? 
Then  we  beheld  her  turn  and  anxious  look 
From  trunks  and  chests,  and  fix  it  on  her  book  ; 
A  rich-bound  book  of  prayer  the  captain  gave 
(Some  princess  had  it,  or  was  said  to  have). 
And  then  once  more  on  all  her  stores  look  round. 
And  draw  a  sigh  so  piteous  and  profound. 
That  told,  '  Alas  !  how  hard  from  these  to  part. 
And  for  new  hopes  and  habits  form  the  heart  ! ' 
'  What  shall  I  do  (she  cried),  my  peace  of  mind 
To  gain  in  dyiiiL'.  nii.I  t..  .li.-  r'-i""'-"! '.'' 

'Hear,'  «.■  i.  I..;;..  :        ''  .       '  '    'I''  cast  aside. 

Nor  give  tliv  i;...l  ;,  .,, i.'  ; 

Thy  closets  ,^liut,  :ii..l  ..|..'  11. X   1..I.  I..'!,',-,  door  ; 
There  own  thy  failings,  here  invite  the  poor  ; 
A  friend  of  Mammon  let  thy  bounty  make, 
For  widows'  prayers  thy  vanities  forsake. 
And  let  the  hungry  nf  tliy  pride  iwrtalce  : 
Then  shall  thy  inwai.l  .  \.   uiil.  .j.  y  .urvcy 
The  angel  Mercy  t,eiii|...i  Iiil;  i'.;iil['-  .lelay  !' 

Alas  !  'twas  hard;  th.'  tri;i<iin  -  .-till  had  charms, 
Hope  still  its  flattery,  sickness  its  alarms  ; 
Still  was  the  same  unsettled,  clouded  view. 
And  the  same  plaintive  cry,  '  What  shall  I  do  ? ' 

Nor  change  appeared;  for,  when  her  race  was  run. 
Doubtful  wc  all  exclaimed,  '  What  has  been  done  V  ' 
Apart  she  lived,  and  still  she  lies  alone  ; 
Yon  earthly  heap  awaits  the  flattering  stone. 
On  which  invention  shall  be  long  employed 
To  show  the  various  worth  of  Catharine  Lloyd. 

THE  NODLE  PEASANT. 

Next  to  these  ladies,  but  in  naught  allied, 
A  noble  peasant,  Isaac  Ashford,  died. 


WINTER  —  DECEMBER. 


411 


Noblo  bo  was,  oontomning  all  things  moan, 

Ilia  truth  unquestioned,  and  his  soul  sorone  : 

Of  no  man's  presence  Isaac  felt  afraid  ; 

At  no  man's  question  Isonc  looked  dismayed  : 

Shame  know  him  not,  ho  dreaded  no  disgrnco  ; 

Truth,  simple  truth,  was  written  in  bis  face  : 

Yet  while  the  serious  thought  his  soul  approved. 

Cheerful  ho  seemed,  and  gentleness  be  loved  : 

To  bliss  domestic  ho  his  heart  resigned. 

And,  with  the  firmest,  had  the  fondest  mind  : 

Were  others  joyful,  he  looked  smiling  on. 

And  gave  allowauco  where  he  needed  none  ; 

Good  he  refused  with  future  ill  to  buy, 

Nor  knew  the  joy  that  caused  reflection's  sigh  ; 

A  friend  to  virtue,  his  unclouded  breast 

No  envy  stung,  no  jealousy  distressed 

(Bane  of  the  poor  !  that  wounds  their  weaker  mind. 

Who  miss  one  comfort,  that  their  neighbors  find) : 

Yet  far  wa^  he  from  stoic  pride  removed  ; 

He  felt  with  many,  and  he  warmly  loved  : 

I  marked  IiiJ  :irti(in  wlim  his  infant  died, 

And  an  I  1  i  111  ijlili.  r  !..,■  ,, Hence  was  tried  ; 

The  still  t  .11.,  ■■.illii_-i|i.\vu  that  furrowed  cheek. 

Spoke  I'ity.  ^.laiinr  iIkiii  the  tongue  can  speak. 


If  pride  wore  his,  't  was  not  their  vulgar  pride. 
Who,  in  their  boso  contempt,  the  great  deride  ; 
Nor  pride  in  learning,  though  my  clerk  agreed, 
If  fate  should  call  him,  Asbford  might  succeed  ; 
Nor  pride  in  rustic  skill,  although  he  knew 
More  skilful  none,  and  skilled  like  him  but  few. 
But  if  that  spirit  in  his  soul  had  place, 
It  was  the  jealous  pride  that  shuns  disgrace  : 
A  pride  in  honest  fame,  by  virtue  gained. 
In  sturdy  boys  to  virtuous  labors  trained  ; 
Pride  in  the  power  that  guards  his  country's  coast, 
And  all  that  Englishmen  enjoy  and  boast ; 
Pride  in  a  life  that  Slander's  tongue  defied  ; 
In  fact,  a  noblo  passion,  misnamed  pride. 

He  had  no  party's  rage,  no  scefr/s  whim  ; 
Christian  and  countryman  was  all  with  him. 
True  to  his  church  he  came  ;  no  Sunday  shower 
Kept  him  at  home  in  that  important  hour  ; 
Nor  his  firm  feet  could  one  persuading  sect 
By  the  new  light  to  the  new  way  direct  ;  — 
'  Mine  now  are  faith  and  hope,'  ho  said  ;  '  adieu  ! 
I  fear  to  lose  them  in  a  way  so  new.' 

In  times  severe,  when  many  a  sturdy  swain 
Felt  it  his  pride,  his  comfort,  to  complain, 
Isaac  their  want^  would  soothe,  his  own  would  hide. 
And  feel  in  that  his  comfort  and  his  pride. 
HIS  THOccn-nj  is  tdb  alms-house. 

At  length  he  found,  when  seventy  years  wore  run, 
His  strength  departed,  and  bis  labor  done  ; 
llis  honest  fame  ho  yet  retained  ;  no  more  j 
Uis  wife  was  buried,  and  his  children  poor  ; 
'T  was  then,  a  spark  of  —  say  not  discontent  — 
Struck  on  his  mind,  and  thus  he  gave  it  rent : 


•  Kind  aro  your  laws  ('t  is  not  to  bo  denied), 
That  in  yon  bouse  for  ruined  age  provide. 
And  just,  as  kind  ;  when  young,  we  give  you  all, 
And  then  for  comforts  in  our  weukne.is  call. 
M'hy  then  this  proud  reluctance  tu  be  fed. 
To  join  your  poor,  and  cat  the  parish  bread  ? 
But  yet  I  linger,  loath  with  him  to  live. 
Who,  while  he  feeds  me,  is  as  loath  to  give  ; 
Ho  who  by  contract  all  your  paupers  t«ok. 
And  gauges  stomachs  with  an  an.\ious  look  ; 
On  some  old  master  I  could  well  depend  ; 
See  him  with  joy,  and  thank  him  as  a  friend  ; 
But  ill  on  him  who  doles  the  day's  supply. 
And  counts  our  chances  who  at  night  may  die  : 
Y'et  help  me.  Heaven  !  to  mourn  my  lot  is  vain  ; 
Mino  it  is  not  to  choose,  but  to  sustain.' 

ira  DEATU.  — now  MISSED   AT  CBincH. 

Such  were  his  thoughts,  and  so  resigned  he  grew; 
Daily  he  placed  the  work-bouse  in  bis  view  ; 
But  came  not  there,  for  sudden  was  his  fate,  — 
He  dropped  expiring  at  his  cottage  gate. 

I  feel  bis  absence  in  the  hours  of  prayer. 
And  view  his  seat,  and  sigh  for  Isaac  there  ; 
I  SCO  no  ninrn  llv.~-"  n-hii.-  l-.-ky,  thinly  spread. 
Bound  the  1.1 '  1  i    :    '      •  I'.i'  ln.nored  head  ; 
No  more  th  11    1  1 1  ,i  „    1  u  playful  wight 

Compelled  t..  i.i,     1    i  .  i  n  .  ml. I..'  at  tlie  .^ight  ; 

To  fold  bi.-  I;m_.  •-  .ii;    ,1.  .In. I.i   v.liil,.. 

Till  Mister    \   ■.:  .1  I  .    :i     ...,  i  .  .i  -i  .       ; 

No  more  tli.ii  II.     .-,  :  ...       .,,:...::     I.  in  prayer, 

Nor  that  pun:  laiiii,  tint  g-ivc  il  ii/i\L-,  urc  there  ; 

But  he  is  blest,  and  X  lament  no  more, 

A  wise  good  man,  contented  to  be  poor. 


Then  died  a  ramblor  ;  not  the  one  who  sails 
And  trucks  for  female  favors,  beads,  and  nails  ; 
Not  one  who  posts  from  place  to  place,  of  men 
And  manners  treating,  with  a  flying  pen  : 
Not  bo  who  climbs  for  prospects  Snowden's  height, 
And  chides  the  clouds,  that  intercept  the  sight ; 
No  curious  shell,  rare  plont,  or  brilliant  spar. 
Enticed  our  traveller  from  his  home  su  far  ; 
But  all  the  reason  by  himself  assigned 
For  so  much  rambling  was  a  restless  mind  ; 
As  on,  from  place  to  place,  without  intent. 
Without  reflection,  Kobin  Dingley  wont. 

Not  thus  by  nature  :  nover  man  was  found 
Less  prone  to  wander  from  his  parish  hound  j 
Claudian's  old  man,  to  whom  all  scenes  were  new. 
Save  those  where  he  and  whore  his  apples  grew. 
Resembled  Robin,  who  around  would  look. 
And  his  horizon  for  the  earth's  mistook. 

To  this  poor  swain  a  keen  attorney  came  ;  — 
'  I  give  thee  joy,  good  fellow,  on  thy  name  ! 
The  rich  old  Dingley  's  dead  ;  — no  child  has  he, 
Nor  wife,  nor  will ;  his  all  is  loft  for  thee  ; 
To  bo  his  fortune's  heir,  thy  claim  is  good  ; 
Thou  hast  the  name,  and  we  will  prove  the  blood.' 


412 


KURAL   POETRY. 


The  claim  was  made ;  't  was  tried,  It  would  not  stand ; 
They  proved  the  blood,  hut  were  refused  the  land. 

Assured  of  wealth,  this  man  of  simple  heart 
To  every  friend  had  predisposed  a  part ; 
His  wife  had  hopes  indulged  of  various  kind  ; 
The  three  Miss  Dingleys  had  their  school  assigned, 
Masters  were  sought  for  what  each  Miss  required, 
And  books  were  bought,  and  harpsichords  were  hired; 
So  high  was  hope  :  —  the  failure  touched  his  brain. 
And  Robin  never  was  himself  again  : 
Yet  he  no  wrath,  no  angry  wish  expressed. 
But  tried  in  vain  to  labor  or  to  rest  ; 
Then  cast  his  bundle  on  his  back,  and  went 
He  knew  not  whither,  nor  for  what  intent. 

Years  fled  ;  —  of  Robin  all  remembrance  past, 
When  home  he  wandered  in  his  rags  at  last : 
A  sailoi''s  jacket  on  his  limbs  was  thrown, 
A  sailor's  story  he  had  made  his  own  ; 
Had  suffered  battles,  prisons,  tempests,  storms. 
Encountering  death  in  all  his  ugliest  forms  ; 
His  cheeks  were  haggard,  hollow  was  his  eye. 
Where  madness  lurked,  concealed  in  misery  ; 
Want  and  the  ungentle  world  had  taught  a  part. 
And  prompted  cunning  to  that  simple  heart : 
'  He  now  bethought  him  he  would  roam  no  more. 
But  live  at  home  and  labor  as  before.' 

Here  clothed  and  fed,  no  sooner  he  began 
To  round  and  redden  than  away  he  ran  : 
His  wife  was  dead,  their  chililroii  past  his  aid, 
So  unmolested  fn.iii  lii-  hnmr  !i<'  .-I  i:i  VL-d  : 
Six  years  elap.^L'd,  wli.n,  wmmi  with  WLUit  and  pain, 
Came  Robin,  wnqit  in  :ill  in-  i;t-s  a;j:;iin  :  — 
We  chide,  we  pity  ;  —  placed  among  our  poor. 
He  fed  again,  and  was  a  man  once  more. 

As  when  a  gaunt  and  hungry  fox  is  found. 
Entrapped  alive,  in  some  rub  liuntr]'-  ^miuul. 
Fed  for  the  field,  although  r:,,l,  .l.,y    -  ;,  i.  ;,-t, 
Fatten  you  may,  but  never  tmir  ihi   Im.i-i  ; 
An  house  protects  him,  savni  v  iiii:tt.-  ,<!i-tain, 
But  loose  his  neck,  and  otf  he  goes  again  : 
So  stole  our  vagrant  from  his  warm  retreat, 
To  rove  a  prowler,  and  be  deemed  a  cheat. 


Hard  was  his  fare  :  for  him  at  length  we  saw 
In  cart  conveyed,  and  laid  supine  on  straw  : 
His  feeble  voice  new  spc.k.'  ;i  .-inking  heart ; 

His  groans  now  tnl.!  i  1m>  t  i.ni-  nl'  the  cart  : 

And  thus  ho  rose,  Imi  iii<.|  in  i;iiii  to  stand  ; 
Closed  was  his  eye,  and  .jlrurhrd  his  clammy  hand; 
Life  ebbed  apace,  and  our  best  aid  uo  more 
Could  his  weak  sense  or  dying  heart  restore  : 
But  now  he  fell  a  victim  to  the  snare 
That  vile  attorneys  for  the  weak  prepare  ; 
They  who,  when  profit  or  resentment  call. 
Heed  not  the  groaning  victim  they  enthrall. 

Then  died  lamented,  in  the  strength  of  life, 
A  valued  mother  and  a  faithful  wife  ; 


Called  not  away,  when  time  had  loosed  each  hold 
On  the  fond  heart,  and  each  desire  grew  cold  ; 
But  when  to  all  that  knit  us  to  our  kind 
She  felt  fast  bound,  »s  charity  can  bind  ;  — 
Not  when  the  ills  of  age,  its  pain,  its  care. 
The  drooping  spirit  for  its  fate  prepare  ; 
And,  each  affection  failing,  leaves  the  heart 
Loosed  from  life's  charm,  and  willing  to  depart ; 
But  all  her  ties  the  strong  invader  broke. 
In  all  their  strength,  by  one  tremendous  stroke  ! 
Sudden  and  swift  the  eager  pest  came  on. 
And  all  was  terror,  till  all  hope  was  gone  ; 
Was  silent  terror,  where  that  hope  grew  weak. 
Looked  on  the  sick,  and  was  ashamed  to  speak. 

Slowly  they  bore,  with  solemn  step,  the  dead  ; 
When  grief  grew  loud,  and  bitter  tears  were  shed :  — 
My  part  began  ;  a  crowd  drew  near  the  place. 
Awe  in  each  eye,  alarm  in  every  face  : 
So  sure  the  ill,  and  of  so  fierce  a  kind. 
That  fear  with  pity  mingled  in  each  mind  ; 
Friends  with  the  husband  came  their  griefs  to  blend, 
For  (joodman  Frankford  was  to  all  a  friend. 


The  lastrborn  boy  they  held  above  the  bier  : 
He  knew  not  grief,  but  cries  expressed  his  fear  ; 
Each  different  age  and  sex  revealed  its  pain. 
In  now  a  louder,  now  a  lower  strain  ; 
While  the  meek  father,  listening  to  their  tones, 
Swslied  the  full  cadence  of  the  grief  by  groans. 

The  elder  sister  strove  her  pangs  to  hide, 
And  soothing  words  to  younger  minds  applied. 
■  De  slill,  be  patient,'  oft  she  strove  to  say. 
But  laikd  as  oft,  and  weeping  turned  away. 

Curious  and  sad,  upon  the  fresh-dug  hill. 
The  village  lads  stood  melancholy  still  ; 
And  idle  children,  wandering  to  and  fro, 
As  nature  guided,  took  the  tone  of  woe. 

THE   DEAD    MOTHER  MISSED. — USE   OF   SORROW. 

Arrived  at  home,  how  then  they  gazed  around. 
In  every  place  where  she  no  more  was  found  ! 
The  seat  at  table  she  was  wont  to  fill; 
The  fireside  chair,  still  set,  but  vacant  still  ; 
The  garden  walks,  a  labor  all  her  own  ; 
The  lattice  bower,  with  trailing  shrubs  ( 
The  Sunday  pew  she  filled  with  all  her  race ;  — 
Each  place  of  hers  was  now  a  sacred  place. 
That,  while  it  called  up  sorrows  in  the  eyes, 
Pierced  the  full  heart,  and  forced  them  still  to  i 

0  sacred  Sorrow  !  by  whom  souls  are  tried. 
Sent  not  to  punish  mortals,  but  to  guide  ; 
If  thou  art  mine  (and  who  shall  proudly  dare 
To  tell  his  Maker  he  has  had  his  share?). 
Still  let  me  feel  for  what  thy  pangs  are  sent. 
And  he  my  guide,  and  not  my  punishment ! 


Of  Leah  Cousins  next  the  name  appears. 
With  honors  crowned,  and  blest  with  length  of  year; 
Save  that  she  lived  to  feel,  in  life's  decay. 
The  pleasure  die,  the  honors  drop  away  ; 


WINTER  —  DECEMBER. 


413 


A  matron  she  whom  every  Tillage  wife 
Viewed  as  the  help  and  guardian  of  her  life  ; 
Fathers  and  sons  indebted  to  her  aid 
Kcspoct  to  her  and  her  profession  paid  ; 
Who  in  the  house  of  plenty  largely  fed, 
Yet  took  her  station  at  the  pauper's  bed  ; 
Nor  from  that  duty  could  bo  bribed  again, 
While  fear  or  danger  urged  her  to  remain. 
In  her  experience  all  her  friends  relied,  — 
Ilcttven  wos  her  help,  and  nature  was  her  guide. 


Thus  I^ah  lived  !  long  trusted,  much  caressed, 
Till  a  town  dame  a  youthful  farmer  blest ; 
A  gay,  vain  bride,  who  would  example  give 
Tu  that  poor  village  where  she  deigned  to  live  ; 
Some  few  months  past,  she  sent,  in  hour  of  need. 
For  Doctor  Glib,  who  came  with  wondrous  speed  ; 
Two  days  he  waited,  all  his  art  applied 
To  save  the  mother,  when  her  infant  died. 
'  'T  was  well  I  came,'  at  last  he  deigned  to  say  ; 
"Twas  wondrous  well,'  —  and  proudly  rode  away. 

The  news  ran  round :  '  How  vast  the  doctor's  power! 
Ue  saved  the  lady  in  the  trying  hour  ; 
Saved  her  from  death,  when  she  was  dead  to  hope. 
And  her  fond  husband  had  resigned  her  up  :  — 
So  all,  like  her,  may  evil  fate  defy. 
If  Doctor  Glib,  with  saving  hand,  be  nigh.' 

DOCTOR  GLIB  BECOMES  TOE  FASmON. 

Fame  (now  his  friend).  Fear,  Novelty,  and  Whim, 
And  Fashion,  sent  the  varying  sex  to  him  : 
From  this  contention  in  the  village  rose. 
And  these  the  dame  espoused,  the  doctor  those  ; 
The  wealthier  part  to  him  and  science  went. 
With  luck  and  Leah  the  poor  remained  content. 

The  matron  sighed  ;  for  she  was  vexed  at  heart, 
With  so  much  profit,  so  much  fame,  to  part. 

'  So  long  successful  in  my  art,'  she  cried, 
'  And  this  proud  man,  so  young,  and  so  untried  ! ' 


■Xay,  but,'  ho  said,  'and  dare  you  trust  your 
The  joy,  the  pride,  the  solace,  of  your  lives,  [wives, 
To  one  who  acts  and  knows  no  reason  why. 
But  trusts,  poor  hag  !  to  luck  for  an  ally? 
Who,  on  experience,  can  her  claims  advance. 
And  own  the  powers  of  Accident  and  Chance  ? 
A  whining  dame,  who  prays  in  danger's  view 
(A  proof  she  knows  not  what  beside  to  do)  ; 
What 's  her  experience  ?  in  the  time  that 's  gone, 
Blundering  she  wrought,  and  still  she  blunders  on  : 
And  what  is  Nature  ?     One  wUb  acts  in  aid 
or  gossips  half  asleep,  and  half  afraid  ; 
With  such  allies  I  scorn  my  fame  to  blend, — 
Skill  is  my  luck,  and  Courage  is  my  friend: 
No  slave  to  nature,  't  is  my  chief  delight 
To  win  my  way  and  act  in  her  despite. 
Trust,  then,  my  art,  that,  in  itself  comploto. 
Needs  no  assistance,  and  fears  no  defeat.' 


THB  MIDWirB'S  PLBi. 


Warmed  by  her  well-spieed  ale,  and  aiding  pipe, 
The  angry  matron  grew  for  contest  ripe. 

'  Can  you,'  she  said,  '  ungrateful  and  unjust. 
Before  experience  ostentation  trust? 
What  is  your  hazard,  foolish  daughters,  tell? 
If  safe,  you  're  certain  ;  if  secure,  you  're  well : 
That  I  have  luck,  must  friend  and  foe  confess. 
And  what's  good  judgment  but  a  lucky  guess? 
He  boasts  but  what  he  can  do  :  —  will  you  run 
F'rom  me,  your  friend,  who  all  he  boasts  have  done  ? 
By  proud  and  learned  words  his  powers  are  known; 
By  healthy  boys  and  hniiil-ioinn  (,'iils,  my  own  : 
Wives!  fathers!  chilli       '  i  !    I]' v"U  live  ; 

lias  this  pale  doctor  it  ■  ? 

No  stunted  cripple  \i-  I  ; 

Yourhandsareactivj.   I       .:  m- sound  ; 

My  lads  are  all  your  fielJi  mid  ll..cks  require  : 
Jly  lasses  all  those  sturdy  lads  admire  : 
Can  this  proud  leech,  with  M  his  lir.astcd  skUl, 
Amend  the  soul  or  IxmIv,  i\ir  .  i    ..i;'' 
Docs  he  for  courts  till  iiiune. 

Or  make  the  daught.  r   I   '   I  i:  mr       limi;? 
Or,  whom  he  brings  iiiti  :i.i    v\    1 1  I    i  \mu', 
Prepares  he  them  their  part  to  uudorj^o  ? 
If  not,  this  stranger  from  your  doors  repel. 
And  be  content  to  be,  and  to  bo  well,' 

SHE  IS  StrPPLASTED,  AND  TAKES  TO  DRiyK. 

She  spake  :  but,  ah  !  with  words  too  strong  and 
plain  ; 
Her  warmth  offended,  and  her  truth  was  vain  : 
The  many  left  her,  and  the  friendly  few. 
If  never  colder,  yet  they  older  grew  ; 

I  Till,  unemployed,  she  felt  her  spirits  droop, 

I  And  took,  insidious  aid  !  the  inspiring  cup  ; 
Grew  poor  and  peevish  as  her  powers  decayed, 

I   And  propped  the  tottering  frame  with  stronger  aid; 

I  Then  died  !  —  I  saw  our  careful  swains  convey 
From  this  our  changeful  world  the  matron's  clay. 
Who  to  this  world,  at  least,  with  equal  care. 
Brought  them  its  changes,  good  and  ill,  to  share. 

THE  ABCSEl)  USCLE. 

Now  to  his  grave  was  Roger  Cuff  conveyed, 
And  strong  resentment's  lingering  spirit  laid  ; 
Shipwrecked  in  youth,  he  home  returned,  and  found 
His  brethren  three,  —  and  thrice  they  wished  him 

drowned. 
'Is  this  n  landman's  love?  be  certain,  then. 
Wo  part  forever  ! '  —  and  they  cried.  Amen  ! 

His  words  wore  truth's  :  some  forty  summers  fled. 
His  brethren  died  ;  his  kin  siJpposed  him  dead  : 
Three  nephews  these,  one  sprightly  niece,  and  one 
Less  near  in  blood  ;  they  called  him  Surly  John. 
He  worked  in  woods  apart  from  all  his  kind  ; 
Fierce  were  his  looks,  and  moody  was  his  mind. 

For  homo  the  sailor  now  began  to  sigh  :  — 
'  The  dogs  are  dead,  and  I  '11  return  and  die  ; 
When  all  I  have,  my  gains  in  years  of  care. 
The  younger  Cuffs  with  kinder  souls  shall  share  ; 


RURAL  POETRY. CRABBE. 


Yet  hold  ! 


rich  ;  —  with  ( 


consent  they  '11 


"  You're  welcome,  uncle,  as  the  flowers  in  May." 
No  ;  I  '11  disguise  me,  be  in  tatters  dressed. 
And  best  befriend  the  lads  who  treat  me  best.' 

Now  all  his  kindred,  neither  rich  nor  poor. 
Kept  the  wolf  Want  some  distance  from  the  door. 

In  piteous  plight  ho  knocked  at  George's  gate. 
And  begged  for  aid,  as  he  described  his  state. 
But  stern  was  George  :  —  'Let  them  who  had  thee 

Help  thee  to  drag  thy  weakened  fr.ame  along  : 
To  us  a  stranger  while  your  limbs  would  move  ; 
From  us  depart,  and  try  a  stranger's  love  :  — 
Ha  !  dost  thou  murmur  ?  '  —  for  in  Roger's  throat 
Was  *  Rascal ! '  rising,  with  disdainful  note. 

To  pious  James  he  then  his  prayer  addressed. 
'  Good  lack,'  quoth  James,  '  thy  sorrows  pierce  my 

breast ; 
And  had  I  wealth,  as  have  my  brethren  twain, 
One  board  should  feed  us,  and  one  roof  contain  : 
But  pk'iid  I  will  thy  cause,  and  I  will  pray  : 
And  so,  farewell  !     Heaven  help  thee  on  thy  way  !  ' 

'  Scoundrel  * '  said  Roger  (but  apart),  and  told 
His  case  to  Peter  ;  Peter  too  was  cold  :  — 
'  The  rates  are  high  ;  we  have  a-many  poor  ; 
But  I  will  think  — '  he  said,  and  shut  the  door. 

Then  the  gay  niece  the  seeming  pauper  pressed  : 
'  Turn,  Nancy,  turn,  and  view  this  form  distressed  ; 
Akin  to  thine  is  this  declining  frame. 
And  this  poor  beggar  claims  an  uncle's  name.' 

*  Avaunt  !  begone  ! '  the  courteous  maiden  said, 
'  Thou  vile  impostor  !     Uncle  Roger 's  dead  ; 
I  hate  thee,  beast !  thy  look  my  spirit  shocks  ; 
0  !  that  I  saw  thee  starving  in  the  stocks  ! 

'  My  gentle  niece  ! '  he  said,  and  sought  the  wood. 
'  I  hunger,  fellow  !  prithee,  give  me  food  ! ' 

'  Give  !  am  I  rich  ?  this  hatchet  take  and  try 
Thy  proper  strength,  nor  give  those  limbs  the  lie  ; 
Work,  feed  thyself,  to  thine  own  powers  appeal. 
Nor  whine  out  woes  thine  own  right  hand  can  heal; 
And  while  that  hand  is  thine,  and  thine  a  leg. 
Scorn  of  the  proud  or  of  the  base  to  beg.' 

HIS  REVENGE. 

■  Come,  Surly  John,  thy  wealthy  kinsman  view,' 
Old  Roger  said  ;   '  thy  words  are  brave  and  true. 
Come,  live  with  me;  we '11  vex  those  scoundrel  boys; 
And  that  prim  shrew  shall,  envying,  hoar  our  joys. 
Tobacco's  glorious  fume  all  day  we  "U  share. 
With  beef  and  brandy  kill  all  kinds  of  care  ; 
Wo  '11  beer  and  biscuit  on  our  table  heap. 
And  rail  at  rascals  till  we  fall  asleep.' 

Such   was   their  life  :    but  when  the   woodman 
died, 
His  grieving  kin  for  Roger's  smiles  applied  ; 
In  vain  :  he  shut  with  stern  rebuke  the  door. 
And,  dying,  built  a  refuge  for  the  poor  ; 
With  this  restriction  :  That  no  Cuff  should  share 
One  meal  or  shelter  for  one  moment  there. 


THE  SEXTON. 

My  record  ends  :  —  but,  hark  !  eVn  now  I  hear 
The  bell  of  death,  and  know  not  whose  to  fear  : 
Our  farmers  all,  an(i  all  our  hinds,  were  well ; 
In  no  man's  cottage  danger  seemed  to  dwell  : 
Yet  death  of  man  proclaim  these  heavy  chimes. 
For  thrice  they  sound,  with  pausing  space   three 
'  Go,  of  my  se.tton  seek  whose  days  are  sped.'  [times. 
'  What !  he  himself !  —  and  is  old  Dibble  dead  ? ' 
His  eightieth  year  he  reached,  still  undecayed. 
And  rectors  five  to  one  close  vault  conveyed  : 
But  he  is  gone  ;  his  care  and  skill  I  lose, 
And  gain  a  mournful  subject  for  my  muse  : 
His  masters  lost  he  'd  oft  in  turn  deplore. 
And  kindly  add,  '  Heaven  grant  I  lose  no  more  ! ' 
Yet  while  he  spake  a  sly  and  pleasant  glance 
Appeared  at  variance  with  his  complaisance  : 
For,  as  he  told  their  fate  and  varying  worth. 
He  archly  looked,  —  '  I  yet  may  bear  thee  forth.' 


'  When  first '  (he  so  began)  '  my  trade  I  plied. 
Good  master  Addle  was  the  parish  guide  ; 
His  clerk  and  sexton  I  beheld  with  fear. 
His  stride  majestic,  and  his  frown  severe  ; 
A  nobler  pillar  of  the  church  he  stood. 
Adorned  with  college  gown  and  parish  hood  ; 
Then,  as  he  paced  the  hallowed  aisles  about. 
He  filled  the  seven-fold  surplice  fairly  out : 
But  in  his  pulpit,  wearied  down  with  prayer. 
He  sat,  and  seemed  as  in  his  study's  chair  ; 
For  while  the  anthem  swelled,  and  when  it  ceased. 
The  expecting  people  viewed  their  slumbering  priest ; 
Who,  dozing,  died. 

PARSON   PEELE. 

*  Our  parson  Peele  was  next  ; 
"  I  will  not  spare  you,"  was  his  favorite  text  : 
Nor  did  he  spare,  but  raised  them  many  a  pound  ; 
Ev'n  mo  he  mulct  for  my  poor  rood  of  ground  ; 
Yet  cared  he  naught,  but,  with  a  gibing  speech, 
*'  What  should  I  do,"  quoth  he,  "  but  what  I  preach?  " 
His  piercing  jokes  (and  he  'd  a  plenteous  store) 
Were  daily  offered  both  to  rich  and  poor  ; 
His  scorn,  his  love,  in  playful  words  he  spoke  ; 
His  pity,  praise,  and  promise,  were  a  joke  : 
But  though  so  young,  and  blest  with  spirits  high. 
He  died  as  grave  as  any  judge  could  die  : 
The  strong  attack  subdued  his  lively  powers,  — 
His  was  the  grave,  and  Doctor  Grandspear  ours. 

PARSON  GRANDSPEAR. 

'  Then  were  there  golden  times,  the  village  round; 
In  his  abundance,  all  appeared  to  abound  ; 
Liberal  ajid  rich,  a  plenteous  board  he  spread, 
Ev'n  sly  dissenters  at  his  tabic  fed  ; 
Who  wished,  and  hoped,  and  thought  a  man  so  kind 
A  way  to  heaven,  though  not  their  own,  mightfind; 
To  them,  to  all,  he  was  polite  and  free. 
Kind  to  the  poor,  and,  ah  !  most  kind  to  me.   [old; 
"Ralph,"  would  he  say,  "Ralph  Dibble,  thou  art 
That  doublet  fit,  't  will  keep  thee  from  the  cold  ; 


WINTER  —  DECEMBER. 


415 


How  docs  my  sexton 7     Whnt !  tho  times  arc  hard; 
Drive  tliat  stout  pig  and  pen  liim  in  thj  yard." 
liut  most  liis  rovcronoo  loved  a  iiiirtliful  jest  : 
"Tliy  coat  is  thin  ;  wliy,  nmn,  tliou'rt  barely  drest; 
It's  worn  to  tlio  threnil  !  but  I  luivo  nappy  beer  ; 
Clap  that  within,  and  sou  how  they  will  wear."  [past: 
'  Gay  days  were  these  :  but  they  were  quioldy 
When  first  ho  came  we  found  ho  couldn't  last : 
An  whoreson  cough  (and  at  the  fall  of  leaf) 
Upset  him  quite  ;  — but  what's  the  gain  of  grief? 

THE  BOOKISH  PARSON. 

'  Then  came  the  Author  Rector  ;  his  delight 
Was  all  in  books  ;  to  read  them  or  to  write  : 
Women  and  men  he  strove  alike  to  shun, 
And  hurried  homeward  when  his  tjisks  were  done  ; 
Courteous  enough,  but  careless  what  he  said, 
For  points  of  learning  he  reserved  his  head  ; 
And  when  addressing  either  poor  or  rich. 
He  knew  no  better  than  bis  cassock  which  ; 
He,  like  an  osier,  was  of  pliant  kind, 
Erect  by  nature,  but  to  bend  inclined  ; 
Not  like  a  creeper  falling  to  the  ground, 
Or  meanly  catching  on  the  neighbors  round  ;  — 
Careless  was  he  of  surplice,  hood,  and  band. 
And  kindly  took  them  as  they  came  to  hand  ; 
Nor,  like  the  doctor,  wore  a  world  of  hat, 
As  if  ho  sought  for  dignity  in  that  : 
He  talked,  ho  gave,  but  not  with  cautious  rules, 
Nor  turned  from  gypsies,  vagabonds,  or  fools  ; 
It  was  his  nature,  but  they  thought  it  whim, 
.•\nd  so  our  beaux  and  beauties  turned  from  him  : 
Of  questions  much  ho  wrote,  profound  and  dark,  — 
How  spake  the  serpent,  and  whore  stopped  the  ark ; 
From  what  far  land  the  Queen  of  Sheba  came  ; 
Who  Salem's  priest,  and  what  his  father's  name  ; 
He  made  the  Song  of  Songs  its  mysteries  yield, 
And  Revelations  to  the  world  revealed. 
Ho  sleeps  i'  the  aisle  ;  but  not  a  stone  records 
His  name  or  fame,  his  actions  or  his  words  :  — 
And  truth,  your  reverence,  when  I  look  around, 
And  mark  the  tombs  in  our  sepulchral  ground 
(Though  dare  I  not  of  one  man's  hope  to  doubt), 
I  'd  join  the  party  who  rcposo  without. 


•  Next  came  a  youth  from  Cambridge,  and,  in  truth. 
He  was  a  sober  and  a  comely  youth. 

He  blushed  in  meekness  as  a  modest  man, 
And  gained  attention  ere  his  task  began  : 
When  preaching,  seldom  ventured  on  reproof. 
But  touched  his  neighbors  tenderly  enough. 

*  Him,  in  his  youth,  a  clamorous  sect  assailed, 
Advised,  and  censured,  flattered  —  and  prevailed. 
Then  did  he  much  his  sober  hearers  vex. 
Confound  the  simple,  and  the  sad  perplex  ;  * 

To  a  new  style  his  reverence  rashly  took  ; 

Loud  grew  his  voice,  to  threatening  swelled  his  look ; 

Above,  below,  on  cither  side  he  gazed, 

Amazing  all,  and  most  himself  amazed  : 

No  more  he  read  his  preachments  pure  and  plain, 

But  launched  outright,  and  rose  and  sank  again  : 


At  times  he  smiled  in  scorn,  at  times  he  wept, 
And  such  sad  ooil  with  words  of  vengeance  kept. 
That  our  best  sleepers  started  as  they  slept. 

'  "  Conviction  comes  like  lightning,"  he  would  cry ; 
"  In  vain  you  seek  it,  and  in  vain  you  fly  ; 
'Tis  like  the  rushing  of  the  mighty  wind,  — 
Unseen  its  progress,  but  its  power  you  find  ; 
It  strikes  the  child  ere  yet  its  reason  wakes  ; 
His  reason  fled,  the  ancient  sire  it  shakes  ; 
Tho  proud  learned  man,  and  him  who  loves  to  know 
How  and  from  whence  these  gusts  of  grace  will  blow. 
It  shuns  —  but  sinners  in  their  way  impedes, 
And  sots  and  harlots  visits  in  their  deeds  : 
Of  faith  and  penance  it  supplies  the  place  ; 
Assures  tho  vilest  that  they  live  by  grace. 
And,  without  running,  makes  them  win  tho  race." 

*  Such  was  the  doctrine  our  young  prophet  taught ; 
And  here  conviction,  there  confusion  wrought : 
When  his  thin  cheek  assumed  a  deadly  hue, 

And  all  tho  rose  to  one  small  spot  withdrew  : 

They  called  it  hectic  ;  't  was  a  fiery  flush. 

More  fixed  and  deeper  than  tho  maiden  blush  ; 

His  paler  lips  tho  pearly  teeth  disclosed. 

And  laboring  lungs  the  lengthening  speech  opposed. 

No  more  his  span-girth  shanks  and  quivering  thighs 

Upheld  a  body  of  the  smaller  size  ; 

But  down  he  sank  upon  his  dyinj^  bed. 

And  gloomy  cr  t -hnt  ■  lill.  1  lii-  ivuil  rin[;  head. 

*  "  Spiti-  <if  I    ,     .!■  ■      il      I    .    _  I  I  I     "  iio  cried, 
"IlcarofiN    i:  .  ^     :  il.'  ; 

Poor  as  I  !>TI1,  ,|.  -.'nnl..!,   :,l,„,l,    Mi„,|, 

The  good  I've  wruught  slill  i:inklc.-<  in  my  mind  ; 
My  alms-deeds  all,  and  every  deed  I  've  done. 
My  moral  rags  defile  me  every  one  ; 
It  should  not  be  ;  what  say'st  thou  ?  tell  me,  Ralph," 
Quoth  I,  '*  Your  reverence,  I  believe  you  're  safe  ; 
Your  faith  's  your  prop,  nor  have  you  passed  such 
In  life's  good  works  as  swell  them  to  a  crime."   [time 
"  If  I  of  pardon  for  my  sins  were  sure, 
About  my  goodness  I  would  rest  secure.** 

'Such  was  his  end  ;  and  mine  approaches  fast ; 
I  've  seen  my  best  of  preao^prs,  and  my  laft.' 

He  bowed,  and  archly  smiled  nt  what  he  said, 
Civil,  but  sly,  — '  And  is  old  Dibble  dead  7 ' 

COSCLCSIOS  OF  TUB  RKCISTER. 

Yes  !  he  is  gone  :  and  wo  are  going  all  ; 
Like  flowers  we  wither,  and  like  leaves  wo  fall  : 
Hero  with  an  infant  joyful  sponsors  come. 
Then  bear  the  new-made  Christian  to  its  home  : 
A  few  short  years,  and  we  behold  him  stand 
To  ask  a  blessing,  with  his  bride  in  hand  : 
A  few,  still  seeming  shorter,  and  we  hear 
His  widow  weeping  at  her  husband's  bier  :  — 
Thus,  as  the  months  succeed,  shall  infants  take 
Their  names,  while  parents  them  and  us  forsake  ; 
Thus   brides   again   and   bridegrooms  blithe  shall 

kneel. 
By  love  or  law  compelled  their  vows  to  seal, 
Ero  I  again,  or  one  like  mo,  explore 
These  simple  annals  of  tho  Village  Poor. 


fvural  mts  i 

or  J)urml)rr\ 

FIRST  OF   DECEMBER. 

For  Nature  soon  in  Spring's  best  charms 

Shall  rise,  revived  from  Winter's  grave. 

Though  now  no  more  the  musing  ear 

Again  expand  the  bursting  bud. 

Delights  to  listen  to  the  breeze 

And  bid  the  flow'ret  bloom. 

That  lingers  o'er  the  green-wood  shade, 

I  love  thee,  Winter,  well. 

Sweet  are  the  harmonies  of  Spring, 

READ'S  "STRANGER  ON  THE  DOOR-SILL;" 

Sweet  is  the  Summer's  evening  gale. 

Pleasant  th'  autumnal  winds  that  shake 

OR,    THE    "ALIENATED   HOMESTEAD." 

The  many-colored  grove  ; 

Between  broad  fields  of  wheat  and  corn 

Is  the  lowly  home  where  I  was  born  ; 

And  pleasant  to  the  sober  soul 

The  peach-tree  leans  against  the  wall. 

The  silence  of  the  wintry  scene, 

And  the  woodbine  wanders  over  all  ; 

When  Nature  shrouds  her  in  her  trance 

There  is  the  shaded  doorway  still  — 

In  deep  tranquillity. 

But  a  stranger's  foot  has  crossed  the  sill. 

Not  undelightful  now  to  roam. 

There  is  the  barn,  —  and,  as  of  yore. 

The  wild  heath  sparkling  on  the  sight  ; 

I  can  smell  the  hay  from  the  open  door. 

Not  undelightful  now  to  pace 

And  see  the  busy  swallows  throng, 

The  forest's  ample  round  ; 

But  the  stranger  comes  — 0  !  painful  proof— 

And  see  the  spangled  branches  shine. 

His  sheaves  are  piled  to  the  heated  roof. 

And  mark  the  moss  of  many  a  hue 

That  varies  the  old  tree's  brown  bark. 

There  is  the  orchard,  —  the  very  trees. 

Or  o'er  the  gray  stone  spreads. 

Where  my  childhood  knew  long  hours  of  ease. 
And  watched  the  shadowy  moments  run. 

The  clustered  berries  claim  the  eye 
O'er  the  bright  holly's  gay  green  leaves  ; 
The  ivy  round  the  leafless  oak 

Till  my  life  imbibed  more  shade  than  sun  ; 
The  swing  from  the  bough  still  sweeps  the  air  — 
But  the  stranger's  children  are  swinging  there. 

Clasps  its  full  foliage  close. 

It  hubbies,  the  shady  spring  below, 

With  its  bulrush  brook,  where  the  hazels  grow  ; 

So  Virtue,  difficult  of  strength, 

'T  was  there  I  found  the  calamus  ■  root. 

Clings  to  Eeligionis  firmer  aid. 
And,  by  Religion's  aid  upheld, 

And  watched  the  minnows  poise  and  shoot. 

And  heard  the  robin  lave  his  wing  — 

Endures  calamity. 

But  the  stranger's  bucket  is  at  the  spring. 

Nor  void  of  beauties  now  the  Spring, 

0  ye  who  daily  cross  the  sill. 

Whose  waters,  hid  from  Summer's  sun, 

Step  lightly,  for  I  love  it  still  ! 

Have  soothed  the  thirsty  pilgrim's  eai 
With  more  than  melody. 

And  when  you  crowd  the  old  barn-eaves. 
Then  think  what  countless  harvest-sheaves 
Have  passed  within  that  scented  door. 

The  green  moss  shines  with  icy  glare  ; 

To  gladden  eyes  that  are  no  more. 

The  long  grass  bends  in  spear-like  form  ; 

Deal  kindly  with  these  orchard  trees, 

And  lovely  is  the  silvery  scene 

And  when  your  children  crowd  your  knees, 

When  faint  the  sunbeams  smile. 

Their  sweetest  fruit  they  shall  impart. 

Reflection  too  may  love  the  hour 
When  Nature,  hid  in  Winter's  grave. 
No  more  expands  the  bursting  bud, 

To  youthful  sport  still  leave  the  swing. 
And  in  sweet  reverence  hold  the  spring. 

Or  bids  the  flow'ret  bloom. 

1  The  sweet-flag,  or  Sag-root. 

6r;iiiuuvs   "^iiqar    aauf 


jposed.  Invocation  nnil  ndilrcsa.  What  soils  tlie 
■W9  best  in.  The  gray  light  earth.  VraliH!  of 
,  and  of  Christopher  Columhua.  The  blacli  soil 
ith  c}ny  nnd  trrivcl.  I*raise  of  Darbadoes,  Nevis, 
iiiiis.-iTnt.  ('..iiinnsn  may  improve  other  soils. 
-■•  of  a  level  plantation.    Of 

Il;ind  one.    Advantages  of 

nrig.  Of  compost.  Of  leaving 


best.  Rniii  often  rails  in  the  Wcit  Iinlius  alnmst  wiltiuul 
any  previous  signs.  The  signs  of  rainy  weather.  Of  fogs 
round  the  high  mountains.  Planting  described.  Begin 
to  plant  mountaitt'tand  in  July  ;  the  low  ground  in  Novem- 
ber, and  the  subsequent  months,  till  May.  The  advan- 
tage of  changing  tops  in  planting.  Whether  the  moon  has 
any  influence  over  the  cane-plant.  What  quantity  of 
-nnuntain  and  of  low  cane-land  may  be  annually  planted. 


The 


July.  Of  hedges.  Of  stone  enclosures.  Myrtle  hedges 
recommended.  Whether  trees  breed  the  blast.  The 
character  of  a  good  planter.  Of  weeding.  Of  moulding. 
Of  stripping. 


Wn. 


TOE  SrBJECT  STATKD.  —  SCOAB-CiXE  CCLTIRE. 

soil  tho  cane  affects  ;  what  care  demands  ; 


Beneath  what  signs  to  plant  ;  what  ills  await  ; 

lliiw  the  hot  nectar  best  to  crystallize, 

.•Vnil  .-ifric's  sable  progeny  to  treat  : 

A  Muse,  that  long  hath  wandered  in  the  groves 

Of  myrtle-indolence,  attempts  to  sing. 


Spirit  of  inspiration,  that  didst  lead 
Th'  Ascrcnn  poet  to  tho  sacred  mount, 
And  taught'st  him  all  the  precepts  of  the  swain. 
Descend  from  heaven,  and  guide  my  trembling  steps 
T<i  Fame's  eternal  dome,  where  iMaro  reigns  ; 
Wli.rt'  p:i-ti.r:il  I'yer,  where  Pomona's  bard, 
Ah'l  Sjiiait  an  1  Sc.inerville,  in  varying  strains, 
Tlii'ir  svlvnn  l,,re  convey  :  0  may  I  join 
This  choral  band,  and  from  their  precepts  learn 
To  deck  my  theme,  which,  though  to  song  unknown. 
Is  most  momentous  to  my  country's  weal ! 


EWIRD  I3LA.\DS. 


So  shall  my  nombcrs  win  the  public  car  ; 
And  not  displease  Aurelius  ;  him,  to  whom 
Imperial  George,  tho  monarch  of  the  main. 


1  The  '  Leeward  Isles '  are  the  northern  portion  of  tlic 
Carihbee  Islands,  that  is,  those  north  of  latitude  lft=  ;  the 
1  of  1&3  are  called  the  '  Windward 


Ilath  given  to  wield  tho  sceptre  of  those  isles. 
Where  first  tho  JUuso  beheld  tho  spiry  oano, 
Supreme  of  plants,  rich  subject  of  my  song. 

BEST  SOIL  FOR  THE  CAXB.  —  CLEARINO. 

Where'er  the  clouds  relent  in  frequent  rains, 
And  the  sun  fiercely  dnrt«  his  tropic  beam. 
The  cane  will  joint,  ungenial  though  the  soil. 
But  wnuldst  thou  see  huge  casks,  in  order  due, 
Uiilled  numerous  on  the  bay,  nil  fully  fraught 
\Vith  strong-grained  Musco\-ado,  silvery -gray, 
I   .V  r.f  tho  planter  ;  and  if  happy  Fato 
i''Tinit  n choice  ;  avoid  the  rocky  slope, 
I'he  elay-cold  bottom,  and  tho  sandy  beach. 
But  let  thy  biting  a.\e,  with  ceaseless  stroke, 
The  wild  red  cedar,  the  tough  locust,  fell  ; 
Xor  let  his  nectar,  nor  his  silken  pods, 
The  sweet-smelled  cassia  or  vast  ceiba  save. 

GCAVA,  OrAIAC,  SHADDOP,  ACAJOf,  SABBACA. 

Yet  spare  the  guava,  yet  the  guaiac  spare  ; 
A  wholesome  food  tho  ripened  guava  yields. 
Boast  of  the  housewife  ;  while  the  guaiac  grow 
A  sovereign  antidote,  in  wood,  bark,  gum, 
To  cause  the  lame  his  useless  crutch  forego, 
And  dry  the  sources  of  corrupted  love. 
Nor  let  thy  bright  impatient  flames  destroy 
The  golden  shaddoc,  the  forbidden  fruit. 
The  white  acajou,  and  rich  sabbaca  : 


Carihbee  Islands 


For,  where  these  trees  their  leafy  banners  raise 
Aloft  in  air,  a  gray  deep  earth  abounds. 
Fat,  light ;  yet,  when  it  feels  tho  wounding  hoe. 
Rising  in  clods,  which  ripening  suns  and  rain 
Resolve  to  crumbles,  yet  not  pulverize  : 
In  this  the  soul  of  vegetation  wakes. 
Pleased  at  tho  planter's  call,  to  burst  on  day. 

Thrico  happy  he,  to  whom  such  fields  are  given  ! 
For  him  tho  cane  with  little  labor  grows  ; 
Spite  of  tho  dog-star,  shoots  long  yellow  joints  ; 
Concocts  rich  juice,  though  deluges  descend. 
What  if  an  after-offspring  it  reject? 
This  land,  for  many  a  crop,  will  feed  his  mills  ; 
Disdain  supplies,  nor  ask  from  compost  aid. 

ST.  KITTS.  —  rrs  SOIL,  SCE.<iERT,  PEOPLE,  FEBTILrrr. 

Such,  green  St.  Christopher,  thy  happy  soil  ! 
Not  Grecian  Tempe,  where  Arcadian  Pan, 
Knit  with  the  Graces,  tuned  his  sylvan  pipe, 
While  mute  Attention  hushed  each  charmed  rill  ; 
Not  purple  Knna,  whoso  irriguous  lap,  [smcU, 

Strewed  with  each  fruit  of  tasto,  each   flower  of 


418 


RURAL  POETRY.  —  GRAINGER. 


Sicilian  Proserpine,  delighted,  sought ;  [sound 

Can  Tie,  blest  isle,  with   thee.  — Though   no  soft 

Of  pastoral  stop  thine  echoes  e'er  awaked  ; 

Nor  raptured  poet,  lost  in  holy  trance, 

Thy  streams  arrested  with  enchanting  song  : 

Yet  virgins,  far  more  beautiful  than  she 

Whom  Pluto  ravished,  and  more  chaste,  are  thine  ; 

Yet  probity,  from  principle,  not  fear, 

Actuates  thy  sons,  bold,  hospitable,  free  : 

Yet  a  fertility,  unknown  of  old. 

To  other  climes  denied,  adorns  thy  hills  ; 

Thy  vales,  thy  dells,  adorns.  —  0  might  my  strain 

As  far  transcend  the  immortal  songs  of  Greece, 

As  thou  the  partial  subject  of  their  praise  ! 

Thy  fame  should  float  familiar  through  the  world  ; 

Each  plant  should  own  thy  cane  her  lawful  lord  ; 

Nor  should  old  Time  —  song  stops  the  flight  of  Time  — 

Obscure  thy  lustre  with  his  shadowy  wing. 


Scarce  less  impregnated,  with  every  power 
Of  vegetation,  is  the  red  brick-mould, 
That  lies  on  marly  beds.  —  The  renter  this 
Can  scarce  exhaust  ;  how  happy  for  the  heir  ! 

Such  the  glad  soil  from  whence  Jamaica's  sons 
Derive  their  opulence  :  thrice  fertile  land, 
'  The  pride,  the  glory  of  the  sea-girt  isles, 
Which,  like  to  rich  and  various  gems,  inlay 
The  unadorned  bosom  of  the  deep,' 
Which  first  Columbus'  daring  keel  explored. 


Daughters  of  heaven,  with  reverential  awe, 
Pause  at  that  godlike  name  ;   for  not  your  flights 
Of  happiest  fancy  can  out-soar  his  fame. 

Columbus,  boast  of  science,  boast  of  man  ! 
Yet,  by  the  great,  the  learned,  and  the  wise, 
Long  held  a  visionary  ;  who,  like  thee,         [court, 
Could  brook  their  scorn  ;  wait  seven  long  years  at 
A  selfish,  sullen,  dilatory  court  ; 
Yet  never  from  thy  purposed  plan  decline  ? 
No  god,  no  hero  of  poetic  times, 
In  Truth's  fair  annals,  may  compare  with  thee  ! 
Each  passion,  weakness  of  mankind,  thou  knew'st, 
Thine  own  concealing  ;  firmest  base  of  power  : 
Rich  in  expedients  ;  what  most  adverse  seemed, 
And  least  expected,  most  advanced  thine  aim. 
What  storms,  what  monsters,  what  new  forms  of 
In  a  vast  ocean,  never  cut  by  keel,  [death, 

And  where  the  magnet  first  its  aid  declined, 
Alone,  unterrified,  didst  thou  not  view  ? 

THE  REJECTED   ADVICE   OF   COLUMBDS.  —  mS  FATE  AND  FAME. 

Wise  legislator,  had  the  Iberian  king 
Thy  plan  adopted,  murder  had  not  drenched 
In  blood  vast  kingdoms  ;  nor  had  hell-born  Zoiil, 
And  hell-born  Avarice,  his  arms  disgraced. 
Yet,  for  a  world  discovered  and  subdued.  [out. 

What  meed  hadst  thou?     With  toil,  disease,  worn 
Thine  age  was  spent  soliciting  the  prince. 


To  whom  thou  gav'st  the  sceptre  of  that  world. 
Yet,  blessed  sjiirit,  where  enthroned  thou  sit'st, 
I'hi.l  'iiiM  till-  IV lends  of  man,  repine  not  thou  * 
1'-  ;ii  t.i  ihc  \  nil  .  thy  glory  shall  remain 
^\lll^  uiii-ril  ('< anme^ce  either  ocean  ploughs  ; 
Wiiilu  iu  lu;ca  pule  the  magnet  coyly  shuns  ; 
While  weeps  the  guaiac,  and  while  joints  the  cane 


Shall  the  Muse  celebrate  the  dark  deep  mould. 
With  clay  or  gravel  mixed?  —  This  soil  the  cane. 
With  partial  fondness,  loves  ;  and  oft  surveys 
Its  progeny  with  wonder.  —  Sueh  rich  veins 
Are  plenteous  scattered  o'er  the  Sugar-isles  : 
But  chief  that  land,  to  which  the  bearded  fig. 
Prince  nf  tlh    n.n-i,  ■■■■.,\.-  Tlarbadoes  name  ; 
Chief  X(\;        ,  r     !    ,   ,■     Imt  baths  famed  : 
And  bri.( /\      ;     i    i  '     ■- li^se  wondrous  springs 

Change,  lik<    \l-hi  ;.  -  h.  ;iil,  whate'er  they  touch. 
To  stony  hardness  ;   boast  this  fertile  glebe. 


Though  such  the  soils  the  Antillean  cane 
Supremely  loves,  yet  other  soils  abound, 
Which  Art  may  tutor  to  obtain  its  smile. 
Say,  shall  the  experienced  Muse  that  Art  recite? 
How  sand  will  fertilize  stifiF  barren  clay? 
How  clay  unites  the  light,  the  porous  mould, 
Sport  of  each  breeze  ?     And  how  the  torpid  nymph 
Of  the  rank  pool,  so  noisome  to  the  smell. 
May  be  solicited,  by  wily  ways, 
To  draw  her  humid  train,  and,  prattling,  run 
Down  the  reviving  slopes  ?     Or  shall  she  say 
What  glebes  ungrateful  to  each  other  art. 
Their  genial  treasures  ope  to  fire  alone? 
Record  the  difi"erent  composts  ;  which  the  cold 
To  plastic  gladness  warm  ?    The  torrid,  which 
By  soothing  coolness  win  ?     The  sharp  saline. 
Which  best  subdue  ?     Which  mollify  the  sour  ? 


To  thee,  if  Fate  low  level  land  assign. 
Slightly  cohering,  and  of  sable  hue. 
Far  from  the  hill  ;   be  parsimony  thine. 
For  though  this  year  when  constant  showers  descend ; 
The  speeding  gale,  thy  sturdy  numerous  stock, 
Scarcely  suffice  to  grind  thy  mighty  canes  : 
Yet  thou,  with  rueful  eye,  for  many  a  year, 
Shall  view  thy  plants  burnt  by  the  torch  of  day  ; 
Hear  their  parched  wan  blades  rustle  in  the  air  ; 
While  their  black  sugars,  doughy  to  the  feel, 
Will  not  ev'n  pay  the  labor  of  thy  swains. 

DISADVANTAGES   OF  MOPNTAIN  LA 


Or,  if  the  mountain  be  thy  happier  lot. 
Let  prudent  foresight  still  thy  coffers  guard. 
For  though  the  clouds  relent  in  nightly  rain, 
Though  thy  rank  canes  wave  lofty  in  the  gale 


WINTER  —  DECEMBER. 


419 


Yet  wilt  the  arrow,  ornamont  of  woo 

(Such  monarohs  orttimcs  givo),thoir  jointing  stint ; 

Yet  will  winds  lodge  thom,  ravening  rats  destroy, 

Or  troops  of  monltoys  thy  ricli  harvest  steal. 

The  earth  must  also  wheel  around  the  sun, 

And  half  perform  that  circuit ;  ere  the  bill 

Mow  down  thy  sugars  :  and  though  all  thy  mills. 

Crackling,  o'orflow  with  a  redundant  juice. 

Poor  tastes  the  liquor  ;  cootion  long  demands, 

And  highest  temper,  ore  it  saeoharizo  ; 

A  meagre  produce.     Such  is  Virtue's  meed, 

Alas,  too  oft  in  these  degenerate  days. 

Thy  cattle  likewise,  aji  they  drag  the  wain,  [shouts. 

Charged  from  the  beach  ;    in  spite  of  whips  and 

Will  stop,  will  pant,  will  sink  beneath  the  load  ; 

A  better  fate  deserving. 

Besides,  thy  land  itself  is  insecure  : 
For  oft  the  glebe,  and  all  its  waving  load, 
Will  journey,  forced  off  by  the  mining  rain  ; 
.\nd,  with  its  faithless  burthen,  disarrange 
Thy  neighbor's  vale.     So  Markloy-hill  of  old, 
As  sung  thy  bard,  Pomona  (in  these  isles 
Yet  unadorned)  ;  with  all  its  spreading  trees, 
Full  fraught  with  apples,  changed  its  lofty  site. 


But,  as  in  life,  the  golden  mean  is  best, 
.1  happiest  ho  whose  green  plantation  lies 
or  from  the  hill  too  far,  nor  from  the  shore. 

1MP0RTA.SCE  OF 


Planter,  if  thou  with  wonder  wouldst  survey 
Redundant  harvests  load  thy  willing  soil, 
Lot  sun  and  rain  mature  thy  deep-hoed  land. 
And  old  fat  dung  cooperate  with  these, 
lie  this  great  truth  still  present  to  thy  mind  ; 
The  half  well-cultured  far  exceeds  the  whole, 
Which  lust  of  gain,  unconscious  of  its  end, 
Ungrateful  vexes  with  unceasing  toil. 

Cn.TIViTIOS  COMPiBKD  TO  DISCIPLISE. 

As,  not  indulged,  the  richest  lands  grow  poor  ; 
.\nd  Liamuiga  may,  in  future  times. 
If  too  much  urged,  her  barrenness  bewail  : 
So  cultivation,  on  the  shallowest  soil, 
O'orsprcad  with  rocky  cliffs,  will  bid  the  oane, 
With  spiry  pomp,  all-bountifuUy  rise. 
Thus  Britain's  flag,  should  discipline  relent, 
Spite  of  the  native  courage  of  her  sons, 
Would  to  the  lily  strike  :  ah,  very  far. 
Far  bo  that  woful  day  :  the  lily  then 
Win  rule  wide  ocean  with  resistless  sway  ; 
And  to  old  Gallia's  haughty  shore  transport 
The  lessening  crops  of  these  delicious  isles. 


Never,  ah,  novor,  bo  ashamed  to  tread 
Thy  dung-heaps,  where  the  refuse  of  thy  mills. 
With  all  the  ashes,  all  thy  coppers  yield,        [form. 
With   weeds,   mould,  dung,  and   stale,  a  compost 
Of  force  to  fertilize  the  poorest  soil. 

now  TO  MANURB  RKHOTB  FIRLD3. 

But,  planter,  if  thy  lands  lie  far  remote. 
And  of  access  are  difficult,  on  these 
licave  the  cane's  sapless  foliage  ;  and  with  pens 
Wattled  (like  those  the  Jluso  hath  ofttimcs  seen 
When  frolic  fancy  led  her  youthful  steps, 
In  green  Dorchestria's  plains),  the  whole  enclose  : 
There  well  thy  stock  with  provender  supply  ; 
Tho  well-fed  stock  will  soon  that  food  repay. 

EFFECTa  OF  TAM<ULTDBB. 

Some  of  the  skilful  teach,  and  some  deny, 
That  yams  improve  tho  soil.     In  meagre  lands, 
Tis  known  tho  yam  will  ne'er  to  bigness  swell  ; 
And  from  each  mould  tho  vegetable  tribes. 
However  frugal,  nutriment  derive  :  [leaves. 

Yet   may   their  sheltering   vinos,    their   dropping 
Their  roots  dividing  the  tenacious  glebe, 
More  than  refund  the  sustenance  they  draw. 


Whether  the  fattening vif  in  '-.n-h  liolo 

'Tis  best  to  throw,  cr  .m  ili^'  ■'ui; -lirru.l, 

Is  undetermined  :  triiil-  rnu-i  d.  .id.  . 

Unless  kind  rains  and  l.isicun;:;  dLu;  il^.-L-i-nd, 

To  melt  the  compost's  fertilizing  salts, 

A  stinted  plant,  deceitful  of  thy  hopes,  [lies  : 

AVill  from  those  bods  slow  spring  where  hut  dung 

But,  if  'tis  scattered  generously  o'er  all. 

The  oane  will  better  bear  the  solar  blaze  ; 

Less  rain  demand  ;  and,  by  repeated  crops. 

Thy  land  improved  its  gratitude  will  show. 


Enough  of  composts.  Muse,  of  soils  enough 
When  best  to  dig,  and  when  inhume  the  cane, 
A  task  how  arduous  !  next  demands  thy  song. 

It  not  imports  beneath  what  sign  thy  hoes 
The  deep  trough  sink,  and  ridge  alternate  raisi 
If  this  from  washes  guard  thy  gemmy  tops. 
And  that  arrest  the  moisture  these  require. 

Yet,  should  the  site  of  thine  estate  permit. 
Let  the  trade-wind  thy  ridges  ventilate  ; 
So  shall  a  greener,  loftier  cane  arise, 
And  richest  nectar  in  thy  coppers  foam. 


Of  composts  shall  tho  Muse  descend  to  sing. 
Nor  soil  her  heavenly  plumes?     The  sacred  Muse 
Naught  sordid  deems,  but  what  is  base  ;  naught  fair 
Unless  true  Virtue  stampt  it  with  her  seal. 
Then,  Planter,  wouldst  thou  double  thine  estate, 


As  art  transforms  the  savago  face  of  things, 
And  order  captivates  tho  harmonious  mind. 
Let  not  thy  Blacks  irregularly  hoe  : 
But,  aided  by  the  line,  consult  tho  site 
Of  thy  demesnes,  and  beautify  the  whole. 
So  when  a  monarch  rushes  to  the  war. 
To  drive  invasion  from  his  frighted  realm. 
Some  delegated  chief  the  frontier  views. 


RURAL    POETRY. 


And  to  each  squadron  and  brigade  assigns 
Their  ordered  station  :  soon  the  tented  field, 
Brigade  and  squadron,  whiten  on  the  sight. 
And  fill  spectators  with  an  awful  joy. 


Planter,  improvement  is  the  child  of  time  ; 
What  your  sires  knew  not,  ye  their  offspring  know  ; 
But  hath  your  art  received  Perfection's  stamp  ? 
Thou  canst  not  say.  —  Unprejudiced,  then  learn 
Of  ancient  modes  to  doubt,  and  new  to  try  : 
And  if  Philosophy,  with  Wisdom,  deign 
Thee  to  enlighten  with  their  useful  lore. 
Fair  Fame  and  riches  will  reward  thy  toil,     [spire. 

Then  say,  ye  swains,  whom  wealth  and  fame  in- 
Might  not  the  plough,  that  rolls  on  rapid  wheels, 
Save  no  small  labor  to  the  hoe-armed  gang? 
Might  not  the  culture  taught  the  British  h'inds. 
By  Ceres'  son,  unfailing  crops  secure. 
Though  neither  dung  nor  fallowing  lent  their  aid  ? 


The  cultured  land  recalls  the  devious  muse  ; 
Propitious  to  the  planter  be  the  call  : 
For  much,  my  friend,  it  thee  imports  to  know 
The  meetest  season  to  commit  thy  tops. 
With  best  advantage,  to  the  well-dug  mould. 
The  task  how  difficult,  to  cull  the  best 
From  thwarting  sentiments  ;  and  best  adorn 
What  Wisdom  chooses,  in  poetic  garb  ! 
Yet,  Inspiration,  come  ;  the  tlieme  unsung. 
Whence  never  poet  cropped  one  bloomy  wreath  ; 
Its  vast  importance  to  my  native  land. 
Whose  sweet  idea  rushes  on  my  mind, 
And  makes  me  'mid  this  paradise  repine  ; 
Urge  me  to  pluck,  from  Fancy's  soaring  wing, 
A  plume  to  deck  E-xperienoe'  hoary  brow. 


Attend!  —  The  son  of  Timr  aiMl  Tmih  .k'dares  ; 
Unless  the  low-hung  clouds  iln'iipid  kiiruss  down, 
No  bunching  plants  of  vivid  green  will  spring, 
In  goodly  ranks,  to  fill  the  planter's  eye. 
Let  then  Sagacity,  with  curious  ken, 
Remark  the  various  siu'n?  of  future  rain. 
The  signs  of  rain  thr  .ALintnin  l.urd  hath  sung 
In  loftiest  nuTulMi,-  ;    hiinilly  i>i  Hiy  swains, 
Once  fertile  Italy  :  Imt  .itlHi  luaiks 
Portend  th'  approaching  shower,  in  these  hot  climes. 


Short  sudden  rain-    n..!,)  r.,    ,,.,-^  i,r:!-l  li--l, 
Driven  by  sonir  i;  .,..,:  ,,  ,,  ;■;  ..i. 

With  frequent  in  r,  ,  i     li  I    .      [■  .        ;    .n-tall, 

While  yet  the  Sun  n,  ri-.i,,,;,       i,,-,,,.  ,] .,_ 

.\nd  draw  their  humid  train  u'ur  half  the  isle. 
Unhappy  he  who  journeys  then  from  home. 
No  shade  to  screen  him.     His  untimely  fate 
His  wife,  his  babes,  his  friends,  will  soon  deplore  ; 
Unless  hot  wines,  dry  clothes,  and  friction's  aid, 
His  fleeting  spirits  stay.     Yet  not  oven  these. 


Nor  all  Apollo's  arts,  will  always  bribe 
The  insidious  tyrant  death,  thrice  tyrant  here  : 
Else  good  Amyntor,  him  the  Graces  loved. 
Wisdom  caressed,  ^nd  Themis  called  her  own. 
Had  lived  by  all  admired,  had  now  perused 
'  These  lines,  with  all  the  malice  of  a  friend.' 


LIZARDS,   CRABS,   DUCKS,    AND   DOVES. 

Yet  future  rains  the  careful  may  foretell : 
Mosquitoes,  sand-flies,  seek  the  sheltered  roof. 
And  with  fell  rage  the  stranger-guest  assail. 
Nor  spare  the  sportive  child  ;  from  their  retreats 
Cockro.xches  crawl  displeasingly  abroad  : 
These,  without  pity,  let  thy  slaves  destroy  ; 
Like  Harpies,  they  defile  whate'er  they  touch. 
While  those  the  smother  of  combustion  quells. 
The  speckled  lizard  to  its  hole  retreats, 
And  black  crabs  travel  from  the  mountain  down  ; 
Thy  ducks  their  feathers  prune  ;  thy  doves  return. 
In  faithful  flocks,  and  on  the  neighboring  roof 
Perch  frequjent ;  where,  with  pleased  attention,  they 
Behold  the  deepening  congregated  clouds. 
With  sadness,  blot  the  azure  vault  of  heaven. 

THE  WEST  INDIA  SHOWER  }  TORRENTS  }    ENLIVENING  EFFECTS. 

Now,  while  the  shower  depends,  and  rattle  loud 
Your   doors  and  windows,   haste,  ye   housewives. 

Your  spouts  and  pails  ;  ye  negroes,  seek  the  shade, 

Save  those  who  open  with  the  ready  hoe 

The  enriching  water-course  :  for,  see,  the  drops. 

Which  fell  with  slight  aspersion,  now  descend 

In  streams  continuous  on  the  laughing  land. 

The  coyest  Naiads  quit  their  rocky  caves. 

And  with  delight  run  brawling  to  the  main  ; 

While  those  who  love  still  visible  to  glad 

The  thirsty  plains  from  never-ceasing  urns 

Assume  more  awful  majesty,  and  pour. 

With  force  resistless,  down  the  channelled  rocks. 

The  rocks,  or  split  1.1  lull  I  i, . I  n    in  llnir  base. 

With  trees,  are  whiil.  ■■  the  sea  : 

Fluctuates  the  forest  ;    i  ,.    Jiiains  roar  ; 

The  main  itself  recnil.  i.,,  mai:!  .,  l-ague. 
While  its  green  face  is  changed  to  sordid  brown. 
A  grateful  freshness  every  sense  pervades  ; 
While  bents  the  heart  with  unaccustomed  joy  : 
n.,-.|..rr.  f„,a.;.m-Mrnioryn..,v.v,_.alls; 
Aim!    i  ,ilr  .,    |.nn,.  -   li,  |-  »in.^,-  1"|-   l.ttirst  flights. 

I'"iiii.l-  thr  !■]  il;  Ij.l,  and  wan  Inn  plays  the  lamb. 
'1  h''  d I'iti-  [>lant-  ii'\  i\.-  :   ten  thousand  blooms, 

l;ui-i  into  l„in,^- ;   while  the  canes  put  on 
tilad  ^'ature's  liveliest  robe,  the  vivid  green. 

i     FOfiS  i 


But  chief  let  fixed  Attention  cast  his  eye 
On  the  capt  mountain,  whose  high  rocky  verge 
The  wild  fig  canopies  (vast  woodland  king, 


r 


WINTER  —  DECEMBER. 


421 


Bcnciith  thy  branching  shade  a  bannered  boat 
May  lie  in  ambush  !)  and  wboso  shaggy  sides 
Trees  shade,  of  endless  green,  enurmous  site. 
Wondrous  in  shape,  to  botany  unknown, 
01d.as  the  Deluge.  —  There,  in  secret  haunts. 
The  watery  spirits  ope  their  liquid  court ; 
There,  with  the  wood  nymphs,  linked  in  festal  band 
(Soft  airs  and  Pha-bus  wing  them  to  their  arras). 
Hold  amorous  doUianoe.     Ah,  may  none  profane, 
With  fire  or  steel,  their  mystic  privacy  : 
For  there  their  fluent  ofispring  Brst  see  day. 
Coy  infants  sporting  ;  silver-footed  dew 
To  batho  by  nigbt  thy  sprouts  in  gonial  balm  ; 
The  grccn-stoled  Nuiud  of  the  tinkling  rill, 
Whose  brow  the  feru-treo  shades  ;  the  power  of  rain 
To  glad  the  thirsty  soil,  on  which,  arranged, 
The  gemmy  summits  of  the  Cane  await 
Tiiy  negro  train  (in  linen  lightly  wrupt). 
Who,  now  that  painted  Iris  girds  the  sky 
(Aerial  arch,  which  fancy  loves  to  stride  !), 
Disperse,  all-jocund,  o'er  the  long-hoed  laud. 

CiSK-PLASTISO  DESCRIBED  J  COMPiRBD  TO  THE  roBOISG  OP 
ACUILLBS^S  SHIKLD  j  Vl'LCAX. 

The  bundles  some  untie  ;  the  withered  leaves 
Others  strip  artful  off,  and  careful  lay, 
Twieo  one  junk,  distant  in  the  amplest  bed  : 
O'er  these,  with  hasty  hoc,  some  lightly  spread 
The  mounded  interval  ;  and  smooth  the  trench  : 
Well-pleased,  the  master  swain  reviews  their  toil  ; 
And  rolls  in  fancy  many  a  full-fraught  cask. 
So,  when  the  shield  was  forged  for  Poleus'  son, 
Tlie  swarthy  Cyclops  shared  the  important  task  : 
With  bellows  some  revived  the  seeds  of  fire  ; 
.Some  gold,  and  brass,  and  steel,  together  fused 
In  the  vast  furnace  ;  while  a  chosen  few. 
In  etiual  measures  lifting  their  bare  arms. 
Inform  the  mass  ;  and,  hissing  in  the  wave, 
Temper  the  glowing  orb  :  their  sire  beholds. 
Amazed,  the  wonders  of  his  fusile  art. 

WHAT  LASD  IS  TO  BE  PLASTKD  IS  JULY  J  THE  PINE-APPLB  ; 


While  Procyon  reigns  yet  fervid  in  the  sky  ; 
!     While  yet  the  fiery  sun  in  Leo  rides  ; 

And  the  sun's  child,  the  mailed  anana,  yields 
Ills  regal  apple  to  the  ravished  taste  ; 
And  thou,  green  avocato,  charm  of  sense. 
Thy  ripened  marrow  liberally  bcstow'st ; 
Begin  the  distant  mountain-land  to  plant : 
So  shall  thy  canes  defy  November's  cold, 
Ungenial  to  the  upland  young  ;  so  best, 
Unstinted  by  the  arrow's  deadening  power. 
Long  yellow  joints  shall  flow  with  generous  juice. 

WHAT  LAND  TO  BR  PLANTED  PBOM  NOVEMBER  TO  MAI 
LEMONS,  ORANGES,  LIMES,  PLANTAINS. 

But,  till  the  lemon,  orange,  and  the  lime. 
Amid  their  verdant  umbrage,  countless  glow 
With  fragrant  fruit  of  vegetable  gold  ; 
Till  yellow  plantiins  bend  the  unstained  bough 
With  crooked  clusters,  prodigally  full  ; 


Till  Capricorn  command  the  cloudy  sky  ; 
And  moist  Aquarius  molt  in  daily  showers, 
Friend  to  the  Cane  isles  ;  trust  not  thim  thy  tops. 
Thy  future  riches,  to  the  low-lund  plain  : 
And  if  kind  Heaven,  in  pity  to  thy  prayers. 
Shed  gonial  influence,  as  the  eorth  revolves 
Her  annual  circuit,  thy  rich  ripened  canes 
Shall  load  thy  wagons,  mules,  and  Negro  train. 


JOIST  IN  A  MOIST  MONTH  i  JOINTINO  TIME. 

But  chief  thee,  planter,  it  imports  to  mark 
(Whether  thou  breathe  the  mountain's  humid  air. 
Or  pant  with  heat  continual  on  the  plain) 
What  months  relent,  and  which  from  rain  are  free. 

In  different  islands  of  the  ocean-stream, 
Even  in  the  different  parts  of  the  same  isle. 
The  seasons  vary  ;  yet  attention  soon 
Will  give  thee  each  variety  to  know. 
This  once  observed,  at  such  a  time  inhume 
Thy  plants,  IIkiI,  nh.ii  tlirv  juint  (important  age. 
Like  youth  jn-i  -i.  i  i-in^  im  ■  Hir).  the  clouds 
May  constaiiil^  l-l.  u  th.ni  :   -.,  shall  they 
Avoid  those  ill>  nhi.  I.  ■I--  iliiir  manhood  kill. 

Six   times  the  changeful  moon  must  blunt   her 
horns. 
And  fill  with  borrowed  light  her  silvery  urn. 
Ere  thy  tops,  trusted  to  the  mountain-land. 
Commence  their  jointing  :  but  four  moons  suffice 
To  bring  to  puberty  the  low-land  cane. 

ALTEBSATIOS  OP  SEED-TOPS  FROM  BILL  TO  PLAIS,  ASD  VICE 
VERSA.— THE  DIVINE  LOVE. 

In  plants,  in  beasts,  in  man's  imperial  race. 
An  alien  mixture  meliorates  the  breed  ; 
Hence  canes,  that  sickened  dwarfish  on  the  plain. 
Will  shoot  with  giant-vigor  on  the  hill. 
Thus  all  depends  on  all  ;  so  God  ordains. 
Then  let  not  man,  for  little  selfish  ends 
1   (Britain,  remember  this  important  truth). 

Presume  the  principle  to  counteract 
j  Of  universal  love  ;  for  God  is  love, 
I  And  wide  creation  shares  alike  Uis  care. 


'T  is  said  by  some,  and  not  unlettered  they. 
That  chief  the  planter,  if  ho  wealth  desire. 
Should  note  the  phases  of  the  fickle  moon. 
On  thee,  sweet  empress  of  the  night,  depend 
The  tides ;  stern  Neptune  pays  his  court  to  thee  ; 
The  winds,  obedient,  at  thy  bidding  shift. 
And  tempests  rise  or  fall  ;  even  lordly  man 
Thine  energy  controls.     Not  so  the  cane  ; 
The  cane  its  independency  may  boast. 
Though  some  less  noble  plants  thine  influence  own. 

now  MUCH  LAND  TO  BE  PLANTED  ', 


Of  mountain-lands  economy  permits 
A  third  in  canes  of  mighty  growth  to  rise  : 
But,  in  the  low-land  plain,  the  half  will  yield 
Though  not  so  lofty,  yet  a  richer  cane. 
For  many  a  crop  ;  if  seasons  glad  the  soil. 


422 


RURAL    POETRY. GRAINGER. 


While  rolls  the  sun  from  Aries  to  the  Bull, 
And  till  the  Virgin  his  hot  beams  inflame, 
The  cane  with  richest,  most  redundant  juice. 
Thy  spacious  coppers  fills.     Then  manage  so, 
By  planting  in  succession,  that  thy  crops 
The  wondering  daughters  of  the  main  may  waft 
To  iiritaiu's  shore,  ere  Libra  weigh  the  year  : 
So  shall  thy  merchant  cheerful  credit  grant, 
And  well-earned  opulence  thy  cares  repay. 


Tliy  fields  thus  planted,  to  secure  the  canes 
From  the  goat's  baneful  tooth,  the  churning  boar. 
From  thieves,  from  fire,  or  casual  or  designed. 
Unfailing  herbage  to  thy  toiling  herds 
Wouldst  thou  afford,  and  the  spectators  charm 
With  beauteous  prospects,  let  the  frequent  hedge 
Thy  green  plantation,  regular,  divide. 

LEMONS,  LIMES,  OBANGES,  LOGWOOD,  RICINDS,  AND  ACACIi.— 
HEDGES   FOR  CANE. 

With  limes,  with  lemons,  let  thy  fences  glow. 
Grateful  to  sense  ;  now  children  of  this  clime  : 
And  here  and  there  let  oranges  erect 
Their  shapely  beauties,  and  perfume  the  sky. 
Nor  less  delightful  blooms  the  logwood-hedge, 
Whose  wood  to  coction  yields  a  precious  balm, 
Specific  in  the  flux  :  endemial  ail. 
Much  cause  have  I  to  weep  thy  fatal  sway.  — 
But  God  is  just,  and  man  must  not  repine. 
Nor  shall  the  ricinus  unnoted  pass  ; 
Yet,  if  the  colic's  deathful  pangs  thou  dread'st, 
Tasto  not  its  luscious  nut.     The  acassee. 
With  which  the  sons  of  Jewry,  stifi'-necked  race. 
Conjecture  says,  our  God-Messiah  crowned. 
Soon  shoots  a  thick,  impenetrable  fence. 
Whose  scent  perfumes  the  night  and  morning  sky. 
Though  baneful  be  its  root. 


The  privet  too, 
Whoso  white  flowers  rival  the  first  drifts  of  snow 
On  Grampia's  piny  hills  (0,  might  the  muse 
Tread,    flushed    with  health,    the  Grampian   hills 

again!); 
Emblem  of  innocence,  shall  grace  my  song. 
Boast  of  the  shrubby  tribe,  carnation  fair. 
Nor  thou  repine,  though  late  the  muse  record 
Thy  bloomy  honors.     Tipt  with  burnished  gold. 
And  with  imperial  purple  crested  high, 
More  gorgeous  than  the  train  of  Juuo's  bird, 
Thy  bloomy  lumors  oft  the  curious  muse 
Hath  seen  transported  :  seen  the  liuiuniiiig-l.ird, 
Whose  burnished  neck  bright  gluw-  witli  \ri.Liiit 
Least  of  the  winged  vagrants  of  thi>  .^ky,        ['^nM  ; 
Yet  dauntless  as  the  strong-pounced  biid  of  .luvc  ; 
With  fluttering  vehemence  attack  thy  cups, 
To  rob  them  of  their  nectar's  luscious  store. 

STONE  FENCES   FOR  CANE-FIELDS  ;    CACTUS  ;   WILD  LIQUORICE  ; 

But  if  with  stones  thy  meagre  lands  are  spread, 
Be  these  collected,  —  they  will  pay  tho  toil  : 


I  And  let  Yitruvius,  aided  by  the  line, 

I  Fence  thy  plantations  with  a  thick-built  wall. 
On  this  lay  cuttings  of  the  prickly  pear  ; 

,.  They  soon  a  formidable  fence  will  shoot : 

1  Wild  liquorice  here  its  red  beads  loves  to  hang,^ 
Whilst  scandent  blossoms,  yellow,  purple,  blue, 
Unhurt,  wind  round  its  shield-like  leaf  and  spears. 

j  Nor  is  its  fruit  inelegant  of  taste. 
Though  more  its  color  charms  the  ravished  eye  ; 

I  Vermeil,  as  youthful  beauty's  roseate  hue  ! 

I  As  thine,  fair  Christobelle  :  ah,  when  will  Fate, 
That  long  hath  scowled  relentless  on  the  bard. 
Give  him  some  small  plantation  to  enclose. 
Which  he  may  call  his  own  ?   Not  wealth  he  cra\es, 
But  independence  :  yet  if  thou,  sweet  maid, 
In  health  and  virtue  bloom,  though  worse  betide, 
Thy  smile  will  smooth  Adversity's  rough  brow. 


In  ItalyV  L'lr, 

iM.u.id-  the  myrtle  shoots 

Afragniiil  IriMr. 

;unl  l.l.i-somsin  the  sun. 

Here,  on  il>r  ,>.,1 

h  -t  1.  r^,,  of  those  blessed 

Withlittl.;  .ai,, 

Ih.  riant  ut  love  would  gro 

Then  to  the  citro 

1  join  the  plant  of  love, 

And  with  their  scent  and  shade  enrich  your  isles. 

SHADE-TREES  NOT  NOXIOUS  j  THEIR  VTILITY. 

Yet  some  pretend,  and  not  unspecious  they, 
The  wood-nymphs  foster  the  contagious  blast. 
Foes  to  the  Dryads,  they  remorseless  fell 
Each  shrub  of  shade,  each  tree  of  spreading  root, 
That  woo  the  first  glad  fannings  of  the  breeze. 
Far  from  the  muse  be  such  inhuman  tlioughts  ; 
Far  better  recks  she  of  tho  woodland  tribes, 

!  Earth's  eldest  birth,  and  earth's  best  ornament. 

I  Ask  him,  whom  rude  necessity  compels 
To  dare  the  noontide  fervor  in  this  clime  — 

I  Ah,  most  intensely  hot !  — how  much  he  longs 
For  cooling,  vast,  impenetrable  shade. 
The  muse,  alas,  the  experienced  muse,  can  tell  : 
Oft  hath  she  travelled,  while  solstitial  beams 
Shot  yellow  deaths  on  the  devoted  land  ; 
Oft,  oft  hath  she  their  ill-judged  avarice  blamed. 
Who  to  the  stranger,  to  their  slaves  and  herds, 
Denied  this  best  of  joys,  the  breezy  shade. 
And  are  there  none  whom  generous  pity  warms, 
Friends     to   the    woodland    reign,    whom    shades 
delight?  [trees, 

Who,  round  their  green  domains   plant  hedgerow 
And  with  cool  cedars  screen  the  public  way  ? 


:   GOOD   PLANTER   : 


:  PROSPEROUS   EXILt 


Yes,  good  Montano  ;  friend  of  man  was  he  : 
Ilim  persecution,  virtue's  deadliest  foe. 
Drove,  a  lorn  exile,  from  his  native  shore  ; 
From  his  green  hills,  where  many  a  fleecy  flock, 

'  Where  many  a  heifer,  crept  their  wholesome  food; 
And  many  a  swain,  obedient  to  his  rule, 

[  Him  their  loved  master,  their  protector,  owned. 
Yet,  from  that  paradise,  to  Indian  wilds, 

■  To  tropic  suns,  to  fell  barbaric  hinds, 


WINTER  —  DBCEMBBR. 


423 


A  poor  outcast,  an  alien,  did  be  roam  ; 
^     IIi.<  ivilo.  till'  partniii-  of  hi3  better  hours, 

Anl  "i[r  M\, .  t  iiilant,  olioerod  his  dismal  way  : 
riiii-"l  I'  l.i<>'>i'  ;  yet  the  orient  sun, 
Vi  1  wt^-tn  II  i'luobus,  saw  him  wield  the  hoe. 
I     At  first  a  garden  all  his  wants  supplied 
I     (For  temperance  sat  oheorful  at  his  board). 
With  yams,  cassada,  and  the  food  of  strength. 
Thrice  wholesome  tanies  :  while  a  neighboring  doll 
(Which  nature  to  the  soursop  had  resigned), 
With  ginger  and  with  Raleigh's  pungent  plant. 
Gave  wealth ;  and  gold  bought  bettor  land  and  slaves. 

1  i       TUS  PLASTATIOS  OF  THS  IMMIGBiST  MOSTASO    DB3CBIBSD  ; 

corros,  cacao,  coffkb,  slaves. 
Heaven  blessed  his  labor  :  now  the  cotton  shrub. 
Graced  with  broad  yellow  flowers  unhurt  by  worms. 
O'er  many  an  acre  sheds  its  whitest  down  : 
The  power  of  rain  in  genial  moisture  bathed 
His  oacao-walk,  which  teemed  with  marrowy  pods  ; 
His  coSfeo  bathed,  that  glowed  with  berries  red 
As  Danae's  lip,  or,  Theodosia,  thine. 
Yet  countless  as  the  pebbles  on  the  shore  ; 
Oft,  while  drought  killed  his  impious  neighbor's 

In  time,  a  numerous  gang  of  sturdy  slaves, 
Well-fed,  well-clothed,  all  emulous  to  gain 
Their  master's  smile,  who  treated  them  like  men, 
lilackened  his  cane-lands;  which  with  vast  increase. 
Beyond  the  wish  of  avarice,  paid  his  toil. 


Nocramps  with  sudden  death  surprised  his  mules; 
No  glandcr-pest  hi.s  airy  stables  thinned  : 
And,  if  disorder  seized  his  negro-train, 
Celsus  was  called,  and  pining  illness  flew. 
His  gate  stood  wide  to  all  ;  but  chief  the  poor, 
The  unfriended  stranger,  and  the  sickly,  shared 
His  prompt  munificence  :  no  surly  dog, 
Nor  surlier  Ethiop,  their  approach  debarred. 
The  Muse,  that  pays  this  tribute  to  his  fame, 
Oft  hath  escaped  the  sun's  meridian  blaze. 
Beneath  yon  tanmrind-vista,  which  his  hands 
Planted  ;  and  which,  impervious  to  the  sun, 
Uis  latter  days  beheld. 


.  I.  PLAKTBll,  1 


One 


)  sat 


Beneath  its  breezy  shade,  what  time  the  sun 
llis  sultry  vengeance  from  the  Lion  poured  ; 
And  calmly  thus  his  eldest  hope  addressed. 

'  Be  pious,  be  industrious,  be  humane  ; 
From  proud  oppression  guard  the  laboring  hind. 
Whatc'er  their  creed,  God  is  the  sire  of  man. 
His  image  they  ;  then  dare  not  thou,  my  son, 
To  bar  the  gates  of  mercy  on  mankind. 
Your  foes  forgive,  for  merit  must  make  foes  ; 
And  in  each  virtue  far  surpass  your  sire. 
Y'our  means  are  ample,  heaven  a  heart  bestow  ! 
So  health  and  peace  shall  be  your  portion  here  ; 


And  yon  bright  sky,  to  which  my  soul  n.tpircs. 
Shall  bless  you  with  eternity  of  joy.' 

DBATH  OF  TUK  OOOD  PLASTER. 

Ho  spoke,  and  ere  the  swift-winged  zuinbadore 
The  mountain-desert  startled  with  his  hum, 
Ere  fire-flies  trimmed  their  vital  lamps,  and  ere 
Uun  evening  trod  on  rapid  twilight's  heel, 

Uis  knoll  was  rung  ;  

And  all  the  cauc-lands  wept  their  father  lost. 

Muse,  yet  a  while  indulge  my  rapid  course  ; 
And  I  '11  unharness  soon  the  foaming  steeds. 


WEKDISG  THE  case;   BOEISG  TUB  SOIL  ISTO  Tilt  tk».mm.o. 

If  Jove  descend,  propitious  to  thy  vows. 
In  frequent  floods  of  rain,  successive  crops 
Of  weeds  will  spring.     Nor  venture  to  repine, 
Though  oft  their  toil  thy  littlo  gang  renew  ; 
Their  toil  ten-fold  the  melting  heavens  repay  : 
F,,i  <  i  11  thv  pl:int'<  will  magnitude  acquire, 
T,..(nni  :ill  iMil.  1^'iowth  ;  before  the  sun, 
'111,    |,i,iii<  I    liiu-  nitlidraw  their  puny  fires. 
,\nl  III  .u-li  inituiiiicd,  then,  thy  canes  will  shoot  : 
Cure  iiiclic.rotes  their  growth.     The  trenches  fill 
With  their  collateral  mould  ;  as  in  a  town 
Which  foes  have  long  beleaguered,  unawares 
A  strong  detachment  sallies  from  each  gate, 
And  levels  all  the  labors  of  the  plain. 


And  now  thy  cane's  first  blades  their  verdure  lose. 
And  hang  their  idle  heads.     Be  these  stripped  off  ; 
So  shall  fresh  sportive  airs  their  joints  embrace, 
And  by  their  dalliance  give  the  sap  to  rise. 
But,  0,  beware  !  let  no  unskilful  hand 
The  vivid  foliage  tear  :  their  channelled  spouts. 
Well-pleased,  the  watery  nutriment  convey. 
With  filial  duty,  to  the  thirsty  stem  ; 
And,  spreading  wide  their  reverential  arms. 
Defend  their  parent  from  solstitial  skies. 


Subject  prnposed.  Address  to  William  Shcnstonc,  Esq.  Of 
monkeys.  Of  nils  niid  other  vermin.  Of  weeds.  Of  the 
yellow  fly.  Oflhenreasylly.  Of  the  blast.  A  hurricane 
■      —  calms  anil  earthquakes.    .Male. 


Enough  of  culture.  —  A  less  pleasing  theme. 
What  ills  await  the  ripening  cane,  demands 
My  serious  numbers  :  these  the  thoughtful  Muse 
Hath  oft  beheld,  dcep-pierccd  with  generous  woo. 
For  she,  poor  e.xilc  !  boasts  no  waving  crops  ; 
For  her  no  circling  mules  press  dulcet  streams  ; 
No  negro-band  huge  foaming  coppers  skim  ; 
Nor  fermentation  (wine's  dread  sire)  for  her. 
With  Vulcan's  aid,  from  cane  a  spirit  draws, 
Potent  to  quell  the  madness  of  despair. 


RURAL    POETRY. 


Yet  oft  the  range  she  walks,  at  shut  of  eve  ; 
Oft  sees  red  lightninj;  at  the  midnight  hour, 
When  nod  the  watches,  stream  alung  the  sky  ; 
Not  innocent,  as  what  the  learned  call 
The  Boreal  iii<iru.  whicb,  through  the  azure  air, 
Fb.hc-  it-  tnniulnu-  r;,y.-,  in  paiut.'^l  >tir:.K.-, 

AVhilr    nV,'    ,,,_!, t~     ;-    .1     ilr,      lurl.l    llr.-r.    UnW     : 
Xor   >linl^    tlH       \lu-..   ImI-    .v;ilk,    iiniurlM.i    ,M   Ih.-ll;. 

lluiv  ^hv  tli.'  plaiitLT,  hii[Ay,  muy  udsl-ic  ; 
Till  tardy  muru  uubar  the  gates  ol"  light, 
And,  opening  on  the  main  with  sultry  beam, 
To  burnished  silver  turns  the  blue-green  wave. 


Say,  will  my  Shenstone  lend  a  patient  ear, 
And  weep  at  woes  unknown  to  Britain's  isle  ? 
Yes,  thou  wilt  weep  ;   for  pity  chose  thy  breast, 
With  taste  and  science  for  their  soft  abode  : 
Yes,  thou  wilt  weep:  thine  own  distress  thou  beai"'st 
Undaunted  ;  but  another's  melts  thy  soul. 

*  0,  were  my  pipe  as  soft,  my  dittied  song ' 
As  smooth  as  thine,  my  too,  too  distant  friend, 
Shenstone  ;  my  soft  pipe  and  my  dittied  song 
Should  hush  the  hurricane's  tremendous  roar, 
And  from  each  evil  guard  the  ripening  cane  ! 

Destructive,  on  the  upland  sugar-groves 
The  uiiiukt-y-nation  preys  :  from  rocky  heights, 
In  silent  parties,  they  descend  by  night, 
And,  posting  watchful  sentinels  to  warn 
AVhen  hostile  steps  approach,  with  gambols  they 
Pour  o'er  the  cane-grove.     Luckless  he  to  whom 
That  land  pertains  !  in  evil  hour,  perhaps. 
And  thoughtless  of  to-morrow,  on  a  die 
He  hazards  millions  ;  or,  perhaps,  reclines 
On  luxury's  soft  lap,  the  pest  of  wealth  ; 
And,  inconsiderate,  deems  his  Indian  crops 
^\'ill  amply  her  insatiate  wants  supply. 

From  these  insidious  droles  (peculiar  pest 
Of  Liamuiga's  hills)  wouldst  thou  defend 
Thy  waving  wealth  ;   in  traps  put  not  thy  trust. 
However  baited  :  treble  every  watch. 
And  well  with  arms  provide  them  ;  faithful  dogs. 
Of  nose  sagacious,  on  their  footsteps  wait. 
With  these  attack  the  predatory  bands  ; 
Quickly  the  unequal  conflict  they  decline, 
And,  chattering,  fling  their  ill-got  spoils  away. 
So  when,  of  late,  innumerous  Gallic  hosts, 
Fierce,  wanton,  cruel,  did  by  stealth  invade 
The  peaceable  American's  domains. 
While  desolation  marked  their  faithless  route  ; 
No  sooner  Albion's  martial  sons  advanced. 
Than  the  gay  dastards  to  their  forests  fled, 
And  left  their  spoils  and  tomahawks  behind. 


Nor  with  less  waste  the  whiskered  vermin-ra' 
A  countless  clan,  despoil  the  low-land  cane. 
These  to  destroy,  while  commerce  hoists  the  f 


Loose  rocks  abound,  or  tangling  bushes  bloom, 
What  planter  knows  ? — Yet  prudence  may  reduce. 
Encourage,  then,  the  breed  of  savage  cats, 
-Nor  kill  the  winding  snake,  thy  foes  they  eat. 
Thus,  on  the  mangrove-banks  of  Guayaquil, 
fliihl  nf  the  rocky  desert,  sea-like  stream, 
\\  itli  -tuilious  care,  the  American  preserves 
rill'  -;tllinazo,  else  that  sea-like  stream 
(Wheiicu  traffic  pours  her  bounties  on  mankind) 
Bread  alligators  would  alone  possess. 
Thy  foes,  the  teeth-filed  Ibbos  also  love  ; 
Nor  thou  their  wayward  appetite  restrain. 

Some  place  decoys,  nor  will  they  not  avail. 
Replete  with  roasted  crabs,  in  every  grove 
These  fell  mauraders  gnaw  ;  and  pay  their  slaves 
Some  small  reward  for  every  captive  foe. 
So  practise  Gallia's  sons  ;  but  Britons  trust 
In  other  wiles  ;   and  surer  their  success. 

RATSBANE,   MIXED   WITH     CASSADA,  DKSTItOTS   BATS  i     NIGHT- 

With  Misnian  arsenic,  deleterious  bane. 
Pound  up  the  ripe  cassada's  well-rasped  root, 
And  form  in  pellets  ;  these  profusely  spread 
Round  the  cane-groves,  where  skulk  the  vermin- 
They,  greedy,  and  unweeting  of  the  bait,     [breed  : 
Crowd  to  the  inviting  cates,  and  swift  devour 
Their  palatable  death  ;   for  soon  they  seek         [die. 
The  neighboring  spring,  and  drink,  and  swell,  and 
But  dare  not  thou,  if  life  deserve  thy  care, 
The  infected  rivulet  taste  ;  nor  let  thy  herds 
Graze  its  polluted  brinks,  till  rolling  time 
Have  fined  the  water,  and  destroyed  the  bane. 
'T  is  safer  then  to  mingle  nightshade's  juice 
With  flour,  and  throw  it  liberal  "mong  thy  canes  : 
They  touch  not  this  ;   its  deadly  scent  they  fly, 
And  sudden  colonize  some  distant  vale. 


These  let  thy  little  gang  with  skilful  hand, 
Oft  as  they  spread  abroad,  —  and  oft  they  spread,- 
Careful  pluck  up,  so  swell  thy  growing  heap 
Of  rich  manure.     And  yet  some  weeds  arise. 
Of  aspect  mean,  with  wondrous  virtues  fraught 
(And  doth  not  oft  uncommon  merit  dwell 
In  men  of  vulgar  looks,  and  trivial  air  ?): 
Such,  planter,  be  not  thou  ashamed  to  save 
From  foul  pollution  and  unseemly  rot ; 
Much  will  they  benefit  thy  house  and  thee. 

USE    OF    THE    YELLOW 


But  chief  the  yellow  thistle  thou  select, 
^^Tiose  seed  the  stomach  frees  from  nauseous  loads  ; 
And,  if  tho  music  of  the  mountain-dove 
Delight  thy  pensive  ear,  sweet  friend  to  thought ! 


WINTER —  DECEMBER. 


425 


This  iirumpts  tliiir  coninj,',  un<l  iiilliiuics  thoir  love. 
Nur  let  rudo  bands  the  knuttuU  gTa»s  prufAne, 
AVbosc  juico  worms  Ry  :  ah,  dire  ondemiul  ill ! 
How  many  fathers,  fathers  now  no  more, 
Uow  many  orphans,  now  lament  thy  rage  ? 
The  oow-itoh  also  save  ;  but  let  thick  gloves 
Thine  hands  dolond,  or  thou  wilt  sadly  rue 
Thy  rash  imprudence,  when  ten  thousand  darts 
Sharp  as  the  bce-sting  fasten  in  thy  flesh, 
.\ik1  give  thee  up  to  torture.     But,  unhurt, 
Planter,  thou  mayst  the  humble  ehickwced  cull ; 
.\nJ  that  which  coyly  flies  the  astonished  grasp. 

BXCELLKST  ASTIDOIES  TO  POISO.SS. 

Not  the  confection  named  from  Pontus'  king  j 
Not  the  blessed  apple  Median  elimcs  produce, 
Though  lofty  Maro  (whose  immortal  muse 
Distant  I  follow,  and,  submiss,  adore) 
Hath  sung  its  properties,  to  counteract 
Dire  spells,  slow-muttered  o'er  the  baneful  bowl. 
Where    cruel    stepdames    poisonous    drugs    have 

brewed  ; 
Can  vie  with  these  low  tenants  of  the  vale. 
In  driving  poisons  from  the  infected  frame. 

POISOS  FISH  OF  TUB  CABIBBBAN  SKA. 

For  here,  alas  !  (ye  sons  of  luxury,  mark  !) 
The  sea,  though  on  its  bosom  Halcyons  sleep, 
Abounds  with  poisoned  lish  ;  whose  crimson  iins. 
Whose  eyes,  whose  scales,  bedropt  with  azure,  gold. 
Purple,  and  green,  in  all  gay  Summer's  pride, 
Amuso  the  sight ;  whose  taste  the  palate  charms  ; 
Yet  death,  in  ambush,  on  the  banquet  waits. 
Unless  these  antidotes  be  timely  given. 
But,  say  what  strains,  what  numbers  can  recite 


Thy  praises,  vervain  ;  or,  wild  liquorice,  thino  ? 
For  not  the  costly  root,  the  gift  of  God, 
Gathered  by  those  who  drink  the  Volga's  wave 
(Prince  of  Europa's  streams,  itself  a  sea). 
Equals  your  potency  !     Did  planters  know 
But  half  your  virtues,  not  the  cane  itself 
Would  they  with  greater,  fonder  pains  preserve  ! 

I.SSECTS  nCBTFUL  TO  TUK  CANK  ;    THK  YELLOW  FLY  ;  THE 


Still  other  maladies  infest  the  cane. 
And  worse  to  bo  subdued.     The  insect-tribe, 
That,  fluttering,  spread  their  pinions  to  the  sun, 
Kceall  the  muse  :  nor  shall  their  many  eyes, 
Though  edged  with  gold,  their  many-colored  down. 
From  death  preserve  them.     In  what  distant  clime. 
In  what  recesses,  are  the  plunderers  hatched  ? 
Say,  are  they  wafted  in  the  living  gale 
From  distant  islands  ?    Thus,  the  looust-breed. 
In  winged  caravans,  that  blot  the  sky, 
Descend  from  far,  and,  ere  bright  morning  dawn. 
Astonished  Afrie  sees  her  crop  devoured. 
Or,  doth  the  cane  a  proper  nest  afford, 
And  food  adapted  to  the  yellow  fly  ?  — 


54 


The  skilled  in  Nature's  mystic  lore  observe 
Each  tree,  each  plant,  that  drinks  the  golden  day, 
Some  reptile  life  sustains  :  thus  eochinillo 
Feeds  on  the  Indian  fig  ;  and  should  it  harm 
The  foster  plant,  its  worth  that  harm  repays  : 
But  ye,  base  insects  !  no  bright  scarlet  yield 
To  deck  the  British  Wolf ;  who  now  perhaps 
(So  heaven  and  George  ordain)  in  triumph  mounts 
Some  strong-built  fortress,  won  from  haughty  Gaul 
And  though  no  plant  such  luscious  nector  yields 
As  yields  the  cane-plant,  yet,  vile  parricides  ! 
Ungrateful  ye  the  parent-cane  destroy. 


Muse  !  say  what  remedy  hath  skill  devised 
To  quell  this  noxious  foe  !     Thy  blacks  send  forth, 
A  strong  detachment,  ere  the  increasing  pest 
Have  made  too  firm  a  lodgment ;  and,  with  care. 
Wipe  every  tainted  blade,  and  liberal  lave 
With  sacred  Neptune's  purifying  stream. 
But  this  Augo'an  toil  long  time  demands. 
Which  thou  to  more  advantage  niayst  employ  : 
If  vows  for  rain  thou  ever  didst  prefer, 
Planter,  prefer  them  now  :  the  rattling  shower, 
Poured  down  in  constant  streams  for  days  and 

nights. 
Not  only  swells  with  nectar  sweet  thy  cnncs. 
But  in  the  deluge  drowns  thy  plundering  foe. 


.la  his  arms, 


■  ny, 


In  black  succession  rise,      'l  o  men  of  Kent, 
When  nipping  Eurus,  with  the  brutal  force 
Of  Boreas  joined  in  ruffian  league,  assail 
Your  ripened  hop-grounds,  tell  me  what  you  feel. 
And  pity  the  poor  planter  when  the  blast. 
Fell  plague  of  heaven  !  perdition  of  the  isles  ! 
Attacks  his  waving  gold.     Though  well-manured  ; 
A  richness  though  thy  fields  from  nature  boast ; 
Though  seasons  pour  ;  this  pestilence  invades  : 
Too  oft  it  seizes  the  glad  infant-throng. 
Nor  pities  their  green  nonage  :  their  broad  blades. 
Of  which  the  graceful  wood-nymphs  erst  composed 
The  greenest  garlands  to  adorn  their  brows. 
First  pallid,  sickly,  dry,  and  withered  show  ; 
Unseemly  stains  succeed  ;  which,  nearer  vicweil 
'  By  microscopic  arts,  small  eggs  appear, 
j  Dire  fraught  with  reptile-life  ;  alas  <  too  soon 
They  burst  their  filmy  jail,  ond  crawl  abroail, 
Bugs  of  uncommon  shape  ;  thrice  hideous  show  ! 
Innumerons  as  the  painted  shells  that  loud 
The  wave-worn  margin  of  the  virgin  isles  ! 
Innumerous  as  the  leaves  the  plum-tree  sheds, 
When,  proud  of  her  fecundity,  she  shows 
Naked  her  gold  fruit  to  the  God  of  noon. 


EFFECTS  OF  THE  '  BLAST." 

Remorseless  to  its  youth,  what  pity,  say, 
Can  the  oane's  age  expect  ?     In  vain  its  pitch 


426 


KURAL  POETRY. GRAINGER. 


With  juice  nectareous  flows  ;  to  pungent  sour, 
Foe  to  the  bowels,  soon  its  nectar  turns  : 
Vain  every  joint  a  gemmy  embryo  bears. 
Alternate  ranged  ;  from  these  no  filial  young 
Shall  gratel'ul  spring,  to  bless  the  plantei-'s  eye. 


With  bugs  confederate,  in  destructive  league. 
The  ants'  republic  joins  ;  a  villain  crew. 
As  the  waves  countless,  that  plough  up  the  deep 
(Where  Earns  reigns  vicegerent  of  the  sky. 
Whom  Rhea  bore  to  the  bright  god  of  day), 


'Gainst  such  ferocious,  such 
What  arts,  what  arms,  shall  si 

Some  bid  the  planter  load  the  favoring  gal 

Witii  i^itrh,  iiiiJ  Mil|iiuu-'s  suffocating  steam  ;■ 


imbered  bands, 
xperience  use  1 


the 


111  (.iiilin-  \niuijii  -  In^t,  such  feeble  arms. 

To  luiin  til. .ugh  Intnl.  not  the  blast  subdue. 

Others  again,  and  better  their  success, 

Command  their  slaves  each  tainted  blade  to  pick 

With  care,  and  burn  them  in  vindictive  flames. 

Labor  immense  !  and  yet,  if  small  the  pest ; 

If  numerous,  if  industrious,  be  thy  gang  ; 

At  length,  thou  mayst  the  victory  obtain. 

But,  if  the  living  taint  be  far  diffused. 

Bootless  this  toil  ;  nor  will  it  then  avail 

(Though  ashes  lend  their  suffocating  aid) 

To  bare  the  broad  roots,  and  the  mining  swarms 

Expose,  remorseless,  to  the  burning  noon. 

Ah  !  must  then  ruin  desolate  the  plain? 

Must  the  lost  planter  other  climes  explore  ? 

Howe'er  reluctant,  let  the  hoc  uproot 

The  infected  cane-piece  ;  and,  with  eager  flames. 

The  liostile  myriads  thou  to  embers  turn  : 

Far  better,  thus,  a  mighty  loss  sustain. 

Which  happier  years  and  prudence  may  retrieve. 

Than  risk  thine  all.     As  when  an  adverse  storm, 

Impetuous,  thunders  on  some  luckless  ship. 

From  green  St.  Christopher  or  Cathay  bound  : 

Each  nautic  art  the  reeling  seamen  try  : 

The  storm  redoubles  :  death  rides  on  every  wave 

Down  by  the  board  the  cracking  masts  they  hew, 

And  heave  their  precious  cargo  in  the  main. 


Say,  can  the  Muse,  the  pencil  in  her  hand. 
The  all-wasting  hurricane  observant  ride? 
Can  she,  undazzled,  view  the  lightning's  glare. 
That  fires  the  welkin?    Can  she,  unappalled. 
When  all  the  flood-gates  of  the  sky  are  ope, 
The  shoreless  deluge  stem  ?    The  Muse  hath  seen 
The  pillared  flame,  whose  top  hath  reached  the  stars 


Seen  rocky,  molten  fragments,  flung  in  air 
From  Etna's  vext  abyss  ;  seen  burning  streams 
Pour     down     its    channelled    sides  ;     tremendous 

scenes  !  — 
Yet  not  vext  Etna's'  pillared  flames,  that  strike 
The  stars  ;  nor  molten  mountains  hurled  on  high  ; 
Nor  ponderous  rapid  deluges,  that  burn 
Its  deeply-channelled  sides,  cause  such  dismay, 
Such  desolation,  hurricane,  as  thou, 
When  the  Almighty  gives  thy  rage  to  blow. 
And  all  the  battles  of  thy  winds  engage. 


Soon  as  the  Virgin's  charms  engross  the  sun, 
And  till  his  weaker  flame  the  Scorpion  feels. 
But  chief  while  Libra  weighs  the  unsteady  year. 
Planter,  with  mighty  props  thy  dome  support  ; 
Each  flaw  repair  ;  and  well,  with  massy  bars, 
Thy  doors  and  windows  guard  ;  securely  lodge 
Thy  stocks  and  mill-points. 


Then,  or  calms  obtain  ; 
Breathless  the  royal  palm-tree's  airiest  van  ; 
While,  o'er  the  panting  isle,  the  demon  heat 
High  hurls  his  flaming  brand  ;  vast,  distant  waves 
The  main  drives  furious  in,  and  heaps  the  shore 
With  strange  productions  :  or,  the  blue  serene 
Assumes  a  low'ring  aspect,  as  the  clouds 
F'ly,  wild-careering,  through  the  vault  of  heaven  ; 
Then  transient  birds,  of  various  kinds,  frequent 
Each  stagnant  pool  ;  some  hover  o'er  thy  roof  ; 
Then  Eurus  reigns  no  more  ;  but  each  bold  wind. 
By  tun..-.  n-ni|..  iIh'  ,  ni|.iiT  of  the  air 
AVith.,"!        "    '    ^  '     ■    : 
Thy  lulu      I       I         1  .;  iIr' coming  storm 
(For  biii-i    |;iii,iU  ■  -'  iiir  portion  of  the  sky). 
In  troops  associate  ;  and,  in  cold  sweats  bathed. 
Wild-bellowing,  eye  the  pole. 


Ye  seamen,  now. 
Ply  to  the  southward,  if  the  changeful  moon. 
Or,  in  her  interlunar  palace  hid,  [glows  : 

Shuns   night ;    or,  full-orbed,  in  night's  forehead 
For,  sec  !  the  mists,  that  late  involved  the  hill. 
Disperse  ;  the  mid-day  sun  looks  red  ;  strange  burs 
Surround  the  stars,  which  vaster  fill  the  eye. 
A  horrid  stench  the  pools,  the  main  emits  ; 
Fearful  the  genius  of  the  forest  sighs  ; 
The  mountains  moan ;  deep  groans  the  caverned  cliff. 
A  night  of  vapor,  closing  fast  around. 
Snatches  the  golden  moon. 


Each  wind  appeased. 
The  North  flies  forth,  and  hurls  the  frighted  air  : 
Not  all  the  brazen  engineries  of  man. 
At  once  exploded,  the  wild  burst  surpass. 
Yet  thunder,  yoked  with  lightning  and  with  rain 


WINTER  —  DECEMBER. 


427 


Wutir  with  tire,  increase  the  infornul  din  : 

Canes,  shrubs,  trees,  huts,  are  wliirlcil  aloft  in  air. — 

The  wind  is  spent  ;  and  '  all  the  isle  below  I 

Is  hush  ns  death.'  ' 

Soon  issues  forth  the  West,  with  sudden  burst,  j 

And  blasts  more  rapid,  more  resistless  drives  : 

Rushes  the  headlong  sky  j  the  city  roeks  ; 

The  good  man  throws  him  on  the  trembling  ground. 

And  dies  the  murderer  in  his  inmost  soul. 

Sullen  the  West  withdraws  his  eager  storms. 

Will  not  the  tempest  now  hia  furies  ehain  ? 

Ah,  no  !  as  when  in  Indian  forests,  wild. 

Barbaric  armies  suddenly  retire 

After  some  furious  onset,  and  behind 

Vast  roeks  and  trees  their  horrid  forms  conceal. 

Brooding  on  slaughter,  not  repulsed  ;  for  soon 

Their  growing  yell  the  affrighted  welkin  rends. 

And  bloodier  carnage  mows  th'  ensanguined  plain  : 

So  the  South,  sallying  from  his  iron  caves 

With  mightier  force,  renews  the  aerial  war  ; 

Sleep,  frighted,  flies  j  and  see  !  yon  lofty  palm, 

Fair  Nature's  triumph,  pride  of  Indian  groves, 

Cleft  by  the  sulphurous  bolt  !  See  yonder  dome, 

AVhero  grandeur  with  propriety  combined. 

And  Theodoras  with  devotion  dwelt. 

Involved  in  smouldering  flames.  —  From  every  rock 

Dashes  the  turbid  torrent ;  through  each  street 

A  river  foams,  which  sweeps,  with  untamed  might, 

Men,  o.xcn,  cane-lands,  to  the  billowy  main. 

Piuises  the  wind.  — Anon  the  savage  East 

i;iils  his  winded  tempests  more  relentless  rave  ; 

X.iw  brighter,  vaster  coruscations  flash  ; 

Deepens  the  deluge  ;  nearer  thunders  roll  ; 

Earth  trembles  ;  ocean  reels  ;  and,  in  her  fangs. 

Grim  desolation  tears  the  shrieking  isle, 

Ere  rosy  Morn  possess  the  ethereal  plain, 

To  pour  on  darkness  the  full  flood  of  day. 

SULTRV    CALUS  OF  TUB    WEST    INDIES    DESCKIBBD  i     EFFECTS 
ON  TUii  CANE. 

Nor  docs  the  hurricane's  all-wasting  wrath 
Alone  bring  ruin  on  its  sounding  wing  : 
Even  calms  arc  dreadful,  and  the  fiery  South 
Oft  reigns  a  tyrant  in  those  fervid  isles  ; 
For,  from  its  burning  furnace  when  it  breathes, 
Europe  and  Asia's  vegetable  sons. 
Touched  by  its  tainted  vapor,  shrivelled,  die. 
The  hardiest  children  of  the  rocks  repine  : 
And  all  the  upland  tropic-plants  hang  down 
Their  drooping  heads  ;  show  arid,  coiled,  adust. 
The  main  itself  seems  parted  into  streams. 
Clear  as  a  mirror  ;  and  with  deadly  scents 
Annoys  the  rower,  who,  faint-hearted,  eyes 
The  sails  hang  idly,  noiseless,  from  the  mast. 
Thrioe  hapless  ho  whom  thus  the  hand  of  fate 
Compels  to  risk  the  insuficrablo  beam  ! 
A  fiend,  the  worst  the  angry  skies  ordain 
To  punish  sinful  man,  shall  fatal  seize 
Uis  wretched  life,  and  to  the  tomb  consign. 

When  such  the  ravage  of  the  burning  calm 
On  the  stout,  sunny  children  of  the  hill,       [sprouts 
What  must  thy  cane-lands  feel  ?    Thy  late  green 


Nor  bunch,  nor  joint ;  but,  sapless,  arid,  pine  : 
Those  who  have  manhood  reached,  of  yellow  hue 
(Symptom  of  health  and  strength),  soon  ruddy  show ; 
While  the  rich  juice  that  circled  in  their  veins. 
Acescent,  watery,  poor,  unwholesome  tastes. 

EAItTIIQUAKES  OF  TIIK    WEST    INI 


Nor  only,  planter,  are  thy  cane-groves  burnt ; 
Thy  life  is  threatened.     Muse,  tho  manner  sing. 
Then  earthquakes.  Nature's  agonising  pangs, 
Oft  shake  the  astonished  isles  :  the  solfuterro 
Or  sends  forth  thick,  blue,  sufibcating  steams, 
Or  shoots  to  temporary  flume.     A  din. 
Wild,  through  the  mountain's  quivering  rocky  caves, 
Like  the  dread  crash  of  tumbling  planets,  roars. 
When  tremble  thus  the  pillars  of  the  globe,  , 
Like  tho  tall  coco  by  the  fierce  North  blown, 
Can  tho  poor,  brittle  tenements  of  man 
Withstand  tho  dreiul  convulsion?  Their  dear  homos, 
Which  shaking,  tottering,  crashing,  bursting,  fall, 
The  boldest  fly  ;  and,  on  the  open  plain 
Appalled,  in  agony  the  moment  wait. 
When,  with  disrupture  vast,  the  waving  earth 
Shall  whelm  them  in  her  sea-disgorging  womb. 
!       Nor  less  afi'righted  are  the  bestial  kind. 
Tho  bold  siii'l  .luix.js  ill  eiieh  panting  vein, 
Andstii--'  II     I   ill -es  of  sweat  : 

Thy  low  111  II  H-  grassy  food, 

And  seiii  :  iul,  hollow  souuds  ; 

!  The  dog,  ti...  u,.-.,  -..,i.,.cl  of  night. 
Deserts  his  post  assigned,  and,  piteous,  howls.  — 

Wido  ocean  feels  : 

The  mountain-waves,  passing  their  customed  bounds. 

Make  direful,  loud  incursions  on  the  land. 

All  overwhelming  :  sudden  they  retreat, 

With  their  whole  troubled  waters  ;  but,  anon. 

Sudden  return,  with  louder,  mightier  force 

(The  black  rocks  whiten,  the  vext  shores  resound) ; 

And  yet,  more  rapid,  distant  they  retire. 

Vast  coruscations  lighten  all  the  sky. 

With  volumed  flames  ;  while  thunder's  awful  voice, 

From  forth  his  shrine,  by  night  and  horror  girt. 

Astounds  the  guilty,  and  appalls  the  good 

For  oft  the  best,  smote  by  the  bolt  of  heaven, 

Wrapt  in  ethereal  flame,  forget  to  live  : 

Else,  fair  Thcana.  —  Muse,  her  fate  deplore. 

8T0HV  OF  JUNIO  AND  THEANA. 

Soon  as  young  reason  dawned  in  Junio's  breast, 
His  father  sent  him  from  these  genial  isles. 
To  where  old  Thames,  with  conscious  pride,  surveys 
Oreen  Eton,  soft  abode  of  every  muse. 
Each  classic  beauty  soon  he  made  his  own  ; 
And  soon  famed  Isis  saw  him  woo  the  Nine, 
On  her  inspiring  banks  :  love  tuned  his  song  ; 
For  fair  Thcana  was  his  only  theme, 
Aoasto's  daughter,  whom,  in  early  youth. 
He  oft  distinguished  j  and  for  whom  he  oft 
Had  climbed  the  bonding  coco's  airy  height. 
To  rob  it  of  its  nectar  ;  which  tho  maid, 
When  he  presented,  more  ncotareous  deemed, — 


428 


KUEAL  POETRY. 


The  sweetest  sappadillas  oft  he  brought ; 
From  him  more  sweet  ripo  sappadillas  seemed. 
Nor  had  long  absence  yet  effaced  her  form  ; 
Her  charms  still  triumphed  o'er  Britannia's  fair. 
One  morn  he  met  her  in  Phccn's'  royal  wallis  ; 

Nor  knew,  till  tll-D,   ^«>  ■  l   ^"1h  ■  n  >  ..nl  nih  ■]  ],1-  :,I1 

His  taste  matun     ,      i      .   I  i  •    ,    :  -i  i  . 
In  color,  form,  'm  i      h   i    ■    :i 

She  shone  all  p'Tfi  'i  :    \\  liilt-  r  iirj,  ph  .i-m^  ,ii  i 
And  each  soft  virtiu;  th:it  tin;  si-.\  :nl.jrns, 
Adorned  the  woman.     My  imperfect  strain, 
Which  Percy's  2  happier  pencil  would  demand. 
Can  ill  describe  the  transports  .Junio  felt 
At  this  discovery  :  he  declared  his  love  ; 
She  owned  his  merit,  nor  refused  his  hand. 

And  shall  not  Hymen  light  his  brightest  torch 
For  this  delighted  pair  ?     Ah,  Junio  knew, 
His  sire  detested  his  Theana's  house  !  — ■ 
Thus  duty,  reverence,  gratitude,  conspired 
To  check  their  happy  union.     He  resolved 
(And  many  a  sigh  that  resolution  cost) 
To  pass  the  time,  till  death  his  sire  removed, 
In  visiting  old  Europe's  lettered  climes  : 
While  she  (and  many  a  tear  that  parting  drew) 
Embarked,  reluctant,  for  her  native  isle. 

Though  learned,  curious,  and  though  nobly  bent 
With  each  rare  talent  to  adorn  his  mind, 
His  native  land  to  serve,  no  joys  ho  found. 
Yet  sprightly  Gaul  ;  yet  Belgium,  Saturn's  reign  ; 
Yet  Greece,  of  old  the  scat  of  every  muse. 
Of  freedom,  courage  ;  yet  Ausonia's'  clime, 
His  steps  explored  ;  where  painting,  music's  strains, 
Where  arts,  where  laws  (Philosophy's  best  child). 
With  rival  beauties,  bis  attention  claimed. 
To  his  just-judging,  bis  instructed  eye. 
The  all-perfect  Jledicean  Venus'*  seemed 
A  perfect  semblance  of  his  Indian  fair  : 
But  when  she  spake  of  love,  her  voice  surpassed 
The  harmonious  warblings  of  Italian  song. 

Twice  one  long  year  elapsed,  when  letters  came. 
Which  briefly  told  him  of  his  father's  death. 
Afflicted,  filial,  yet  to  Heaven  resigned, 
Soon  he  reached  Albion,  and  as  soon  embarked. 
Eager  to  clasp  the  object  of  his  love. 

Blow,  prosperous  breezes  !  swiftly  sail,  thou  Po  ! 
Swift  sailed  the  Po,  and  happy  breezes  blew. 

In  Biscay's  stormy  seas  an  armed  ship, 
of  f.uir  Mt|.(  rior,  from  loud  Charente's  wave, 
llii|.l  til. in  M,i  l.,iard.     The  frighted  flying  crew 
'llhir  .  ..I"i,  -Hike  ;   when  dauntless  Junio,  fired 
With  in.ljle  indignation,  killed  the  chief, 
Who  on  the  bloody  deck  dealt  slaughter  round. 
The  Gauls  retreat ;  the  Britains  loud  huzza  ; 
And,  touched  with  .shame,  with  emulation  stung. 


So  plied  their  cannon,  plied  their  missile  fires. 
That  soon  in  air  the  hapless  Thunderer  blew. 

Blow,  prosperous  breezes  !  swiftly  sail,  thou  Po  ! 
;  -May  no  more  dangerous  fights  retard  thy  way  ! 
Soon  Porto  Santo's  nreky  heights  they  spy, 
JMr  >  !,,n.I.  ,i;i,i  li-ing  iu  the  distant  air. 
'I  I    i:  It    \\  lii-tii  -  ;   laugh  the  sportive  crew  ; 

I     .     i::  I-    rr  t'l  rateh  the  favoring  gale, 

\\  liil'     '11  llii  yard-arm  the  harpooner  sits, 

.Strikes  the  boneta,  or  the  shark  ensnares. 

The  fringed  urtica  spreads  her  purple  form 

'  To  catch  the  gale,  and  dances  o'er  the  waves  : 

.Ail'.    '  !       I        ,    iHiin-,::.  iilly  |. lay  ..("around. 

I  I. "I  111.'  tii.].ii--l.n.i  lliL-y  flew, 

I'll    I n..L    M,  '  wh..n  ,-liaU  n.;  f..eland? 

Soon  laud  they  made  :  and  now  in  thought  he  elaspt 
His  Indian  bride,  and  deemed  his  toils  o'erpaid. 

She,  no  less  amorous,  every  evening  walked 
On  the  cool  margin  of  the  purple  main, 
Intent  her  Junio's  vessel  to  descry. 

One  eve,  faint  calms  for  many  a  day  had  raged, 
The  winged  demons  of  the  tempest  rose  ; 
Thunder,  and  rain,  and  lightning's  awful  power. 
She  fled  :  could  innocence,  could  beauty,  claim 
E.xcmptioii  from  the  grave,  the  ethereal  bolt, 
Thai  -Int.  h.  .1  Inr  s[ieeehless,  o'er  her  lovely  head 


!  Dr. 


r  Richmond. 
Bisbop  of  Dro. 
tail.    He  pub- 


M.  iMw  liil.  ,  iiii|.aticnt,  Junio  leapt  ashore, 
lle^ai-.li.;j,s  ._>!  the  demons  of  the  storm. 
Ah,  youth  I  what  woes,  too  great  for  man  to  bear, 
Are  ready  to  burst  on  thee  !     Urge  not  so 
Thy  flying  courser.     Soon  Theana's  porch 
Received  him  :  at  his  sight,  the  ancient  slaves 
Afi'righted  shriek,  and  to  the  chamber  point. 
Confounded,  yet  unknowing  what  they  meant. 
He  entered  hasty 

Ah  !  what  a  sight  for  one  who  loved  so  well  ! 
All  pale  and  cold,  in  every  feature  death, 
Thcana  lay  ;  and  yet  a  glimpse  of  joy 
Play.ai  ..II  h.  r  fa.'...  whiir  with  taint,  faltering  voice, 
Sli.'  I  111!'  aiiih. --,i|  (lir  y..ulh.  whom  yet  she  knew. 

'  ^^ .  I Ill-,  iii.v  -liiiii...  ii.  iliy  native  shore  ! 

Thy  .-i-ht  r.'payi  this  .-uuuiiuus  of  my  fate  : 
Live,  and  live  happy  ;  sometimes  think  of  me  : 
By  night,  by  day,  you  still  engaged  my  care  ; 
And,  next  to  God,  you  now  my  thoughts  employ  : 
Accept  of  this  —  my  little  all  I  give  ; 
Would  it  were  larger  ! '  —  Nature  could  no  more  ; 
She  looked,  embraced  him,  with  a  groan  expired. 

But  say,  what  strains,  what  language  can  ex- 
press, 
The  thousand  pangs  which  tore  the  lover's  breast  ? 
Upon  her  breathless  corse  himself  he  threw. 
And  to  her  elay-cold  lips,  with  trembling  haste, 
Ten  thousand  kisses  gave.     He  strove  to  speak  ; 
Nor  words  he  found  ;  ho  clasped  her  in  his  arms  ; 
He  sighed,  he  swooned,  looked  up,  and  died  away. 

One  grave  contains  this  hapless,  faithful  pair  ; 
And  still  the  oane-isles  tell  their  matchless  love  ! 


WINTER —  DECEMBER. 


429 


ilrcss.    riantfrii  have  emiiloymcut  »ll 
Plnnlcrs  should  bi-  pious. 

mulnlRht.     IVoi)  begun.    Cl „  ,      ,, 

of  uniMi'.  iirvM  cure  requisite  In  reeding  the  mill.  Hn- 
miiiiiv  ln»ui.U  the  tUBlmcd  recommended.  The  lainted 
i;iT»-  «h..iil.l  ii.it  be  ground.  Their  u»e.  How  to  preserve 
th-'  Ittli-;  mill  iititl-points  from  sudden  squniis.  Address 
1.1  Hi,.  SUM,  )iml  prniseof  Anll|5ua.  A  cntlle-inlll  described. 
Clio  "I  mill,  s,  <tc.  Diseases  to  which  they  are  »ui^|ect. 
\  II  i.t.i-iiiill  the  least  liable  to  InU-rrupliou.  Common  in 
(l.iii.liil.iii|.i-  iiii.l  Marlinlco.  Praise  of  Lord  Komney. 
III.-  iHiis-iiy  .if  a  strong,  clear  lire.  In  boilini:.  Planters 
Mil. .111. t  ;ihi  .1  •  ti.iv.-  ;i  spare  set  of  vessels,  because  the 
ii-,,ii  ii.i  ,  ik.  and  copper  vessels  to  melt. 

'l'l„.  ,1  i:  .  1  wiiter  Into  a  thorough-heated 

fun,,,,  kimroing  well,  recommended. 

A  1.  liy,and  open  at  lop,  to  the 

l,.ew,„  I      .  .  ..t  vegetables.    Sugar  an  es- 

sential i^iUt.  \\  h.u  r.iiii-.ls  Its  granulation.  How  to  for- 
ward it.  Uuiuli  eaue.  JKlTects  of  it.  Bristol  lime  the 
best  temper.  Various  uses  of  Bristol  ill 
covado  described.    Bermudas  " 


I.    The 

5  the  hot 

Negroes 

Tiicy  should 


1  boll  c 


IVhcn  t 


•the 


This  [iraotiuc 


it,  and  makes 
1  Mii.\  sand  with  their 
..a  by  the  English.  A 
Of  "Uie  skimmings.  Their  various  uses.  Of 
rum.  Its  praise.  A  West  India  prospect,  when  crop  is 
finished.  An  address  to  the  Creoles,  to  live  more  upon 
their  esUtes  than  they  do.    The  reasons. 

IUKVESTISO  ASD  SUGAB-nOILIKO.  —  TUK  SEW  TEAR.— SIMILB 
OP  TUB  PILGRIM. 

From  scenes  of  deep  distress  the  heavenly  Muse, 
Emerging  joyous,  claps  her  dewy  wings. 
As  when  a  pilgrim  in  the  howling  waste 
iruth  long  time  wandered,  fearful  at  each  step 
Of  tumbling  cliBfs,  fell  serpents,  whelming  bogs  ; 
At  last,  from  some  long  eminence,  descries 
I'an  haunts  of  social  life  ;  wide-cultured  plains, 
O'er  which  glad  reapers  pour  ;  ho  eheerly  sings  : 
So  she  to  sprightlier  notes  her  pipe  attunes, 
Than  e'er  these  mountains  heard  ;  to  gratulate, 
With  duteous  carols,  the  beginning  year. 


I  Wolcomo  thy  glad  approach  :  but  chief  the  cane, 
Whose  juice  now  longs  to  murmur  down  tlie  spout, 
Hails  thy  loved  coming  ;  January,  hail ! 

DEDICATION  TO  K 

0  M !  thou,  whoso  polished  mind  contains 

Each  science  useful  to  thy  native  isle  ! 
Philosopher,  without  the  hermit's  spleen  ! 
Polite,  yet  kana.l  ;  ami.  Ih.iuKh  solid,  gay  •' 
Critic,  whiisr  Im  .1  .  .  1.  1.  ..ly.  fond,  admires  ; 
Whose  heart  .  .  '      :     ,  i  .        m  IViendly  shade  ! 
Planter,  ivli..-   .  ,;iii;itinn  taught 

Each  secret  li.,-....ii  ,.i  )ki  ..vU.tu  .■iehool  : 
To  thee  the  Muse  a  grateful  tribute  pays  ; 
She  owes  to  thee  the  precepts  of  her  song  : 
Nor  wilt  thou,  sour,  refuse,  —  though  other  cares, 
The  public  wolfaro,  claim  thy  busy  hour,  — 
With  her  to  roam  (thrice-pleasing  devious  walk) 
The  ripened  cane-piece,  and  with  her  to  taste 
(Delicious  draught !)  the  nectar  of  the  mill  ! 

PLASTERS   SUOtn.D  ACKSOWLEDOE  THE  DIVINB    PROVIDKSCE. 

The  planter's  labor  in  a  round  revolves ! 
Ends  with  the  year,  and  with  the  year  begins. 

Yo    swains,    to   Heaven    bend   low   in   grateful 
prayer. 
Worship  the  Almighty  ;  whose  kind-fostering  hand 
Hath  blest  your  labor,  and  hath  given  the  oano 
To  rise  superior  to  each  menaced  ill. 

Nor  less,  yc  planters,  in  devotion,  sue, 
That  nor  the  heavenly  bolt,  nor  casual  spark, 
Nor  hand  of  malice,  may  the  crop  destroy. 


Hail,  eldest  birth  of  time  !  in  other  climes, 
In  the  old  world,  with  tempests  ushered  in  ; 
While  rilled  Nature  thine  appearance  wails. 
And  savage  Winter  wields  his  iron  mace  : 
But  not  the  rockiest  verge  of  these  green  isles. 
Though  mountains  heaped  on  mountains  bnive  the 
Dares  Winter  by  his  residence  profane.  [sky. 

At  times  the  ruffian,  wrapt  in  murky  state. 
Inroads  will,  sly,  attempt  ;  but  soon  the  sun, 
Benign  protector  of  the  cane-land  isles. 
Repels  the  invader,  and  his  rude  mace  breaks. 


Hero,  every  mountain,  every  winding  dell 
(Haunt  of  the  Dryads  ;  where,  beneath  the  shade 
Of  broad-leafed  china,  idly  they  repose. 
Charmed  with  the  murmur  of  the  tinkling  rill. 
Charmed  with  the  hummings  of  the  neighboring 
hive). 


Ah  me  !    what    numerous,   deafening   bells    rt- 
What  cries  of  horror  startle  the  dull  steep  ?  [sound  .' 
What  gleaming  brightness  makes,  at  midnight,  day, 
By  its  portentous  glare  1     Too  well  I  see 
Patemon's  fate,  the  virtuous  and  the  wise  ! 
Where  were  yo,  watches,  when  the  flame  burst  forth  ? 
A  little  care  had  then  the  hydra  quelled  : 
But,  now,  what  clouds  of  white  smoke  load  the  sky  ! 
How  strong,  how  rapid,  the  combustion  pours  ! 
Aid  not,  ye  winds  !  with  your  destroying  breath. 
The    spreading    vengeance.  —  They   contemn    my 
prayer. 

Roused  by  the   deafening  bells,  the  cries,  the 
From  every  quarter,  in  tumultuous  bands,     [blaze. 
The  Negroes  rush,  and  'mid  the  crackling  flames 
Plunge,  demon-like  !    All,  all,  urge  every  nene  : 
This  way,  tear  up  those  canes  ;  dash  the  firo  out, 
Which  sweeps,  with  serpent-error,  o'er  the  ground. 
There,  hew  these  down  ;    their   topmost  branches 
And  hero  bid  all  thy  watry  engines  play  ;   [burn  ; 
For  here  the  wind  the  burning  deluge  drives. 

In  vain.  —  iMore  wide  the  blazing  torrent  rolls  ; 
More  loud  it  roara,  more  bright  it  fires  the  polo ! 
And  toward  thy  mansion,  see,  it  bends  its  way. 
Haste  !  far,  0  far,  your  infant  throng  remove  : 
Quick  from  your  stables  drag  your  steeds  and  mules: 


RURAL   POETRY.  —  GRAINGER. 


With  well-wet  blankets  guard  your  cypress-roofs  ; 
And  where   thy  dried   canes   in   large   stacks   are 
Efforts  but  serve  to  iri-it;itr  tlir  i\:uu>-  :        f  pilr,]. 
Naught  but  thy  ruin  e;in  t\i-  n   v.  i.itli  ;i|<|n  a-r. 
Ah,  my  Pala?raon  !  what  a^nh  I  ili\  .  .nv. 
Oft  to  prevent  the  earlirst  ihiwn  nt  day, 
And  walk  thy  ranges  at  the  nuun  uf  night? 
What  though  no  ills  assailed  thy  bunching  sprouts, 
And  seasons  poured  obedient  to  thy  will  : 
All,  all  must  perish  ;  nor  shalt  thou  preserve 
Wherewith  to  feed  thy  little  orphan  throng. 

TETE  RIPE  CROP  J   COPPERS,   NEGROES,    MILLS. 

0,  may  the  cane-isles  know  few  nights  like  this  ! 
For  now  the  sail-clad  points,  impatient,  wait 
The  hour  of  sweet  release,  to  court  the  gale. 
The  late-hung  coppers  wish  to  feel  the  warmth 
Which  well-dried  fuel  from  the  cane  imparts  : 
The  Negro-train,  with  placid  look,  survey 
Thy  fields,  which  full  perfection  have  attained, 
And  pant  to  wield  the  bill  (no  surly  watch 
Bare  now  deprive  them  of  the  luscious  cane)  : 
Nor  thou,  my  friend,  their  willing  ardor  check  ; 
Encourage  rather  ;   cheerful  toil  is  light. 
So  from  no  field  shall  slow-paced  oxen  draw 
More  frequent  loaded  wains  ;   which  many  a  day, 
And  many  a  night,  shall  feed  thy  crackling  mills 
With  richest  offerings  :  while  thy  far-seen  flames. 
Bursting  through  many  a  chimney,  bright  emblaze 
The  -^thiop-brow  of  night.     And  see,  they  pour 
(Ere  Phosphor  his  pale  circlet  yet  withdraws, 
What  time  gray  dawn  stands  tip-toe  on  the  hill) 
O'er  the  rich  cane-grove  :  Muse,  their  labor  sing. 


Some,  bending,  of  their  sapless  burden  ease 
The  yellow-jointed  canes  (whose  height  exceeds 
A  mounted  trooper,  and  whose  clammy  round 
Measures  two  inches  full)  ;  and  near  the  root 
Lop  the  stem  off,  which  quivers  in  their  hand 
AVith  fond  impatience  :  soon  its  branchy  spires 
(Food  to  thy  cattle)  it  resigns  ;  and  soon 
Its  tender  prickly  tops,  with  eyes  thick  set, 
To  load  with  future  crops  thy  long-hoed  land. 
These  with  i\wh-  -ndi,  tlirir  [Jiaiit  branches  bound 
(Fornotapurt  .^r  il,,-  ;,!,,;,/.i,,-  plant 
But  serves  somr  n-.  m!  |iin  [.-<  ),  rjiarge  the  yonng  : 

Even  lameness  from  its  leafy  pallet  crawls, 
To  join  the  favored  gang.     What  of  the  cane 
Remains  —  and  much  the  largest  part  remains  — 
Cut  into  junks  a  yard  in  length,  and  tied         [wain, 
In  small    light   bundles,    load    the    broad-wheeled 
The  mules  crook-harnessed,  and  the  sturdier  crew. 
With  sweet  abundance. 

THE   LINCOLN   SHEEP-SHEARINGS. 

As  on  Lincoln  plains 
(Ye  plains  of  Lincoln,  sound  your  Dyer's  praise  !) 
When  the  laved  snow-white  flocks  are   numerous 


The  senior  swains,  with  sharpened  shears,  cut  off 

The  fleecy  vestiiR-ut  ;   otlier.^  .stir  the  tar  : 


Light-bandied  round,  but  innocent  of  ill  ; 
Nor  choral  song  are  wanting  :  echo  rings. 


Nor  need  the  driver,  .Ethiop  authorized. 
Thence  more  inhuman,  crack  his  horrid  whip  ; 
From  such  dire  sounds  the  indignant  Muse  averts 
Her  virgin  ear,  where  music  loves  to  dwell : 
'T  is  malice  now,  *t  is  wantonness  of  power. 
To  lash  the  laughing,  laboring,  singing  throng. 


What  cannot  song  ?  all  nature  feels  its  power  : 
The  hind's  blithe  whistle,  as  through  stubborn  soils 
He  drives  the  shining  share,  more  than  the  goad 
His  tardy  steers  impels.  —  The  Muse  hath  seen, 
AVhen  health  danced  frolic  in  her  youthful  veins, 
And  vacant  gambols  winged  the  laughing  hours  — 
The  Muse  hath  seen  on  Annan's  pastoral  hills, 
Of  theft  and  slaughter  erst  the  fell  retreat. 
But  now  the  shepherd's  best  beloved  walk  — 
Hath  seen  the  shepherd,  with  his  sylvan  pipe, 
Lead   on   his   flock   o'er   crags,  through  bogs,  and 
A  tedious  journey  ;  yet  not  weary  they,     [streams. 
Drawn  by  the  enchantment  of  his  artless  song. 
AVhat  cannot  music?  —  When  brown  Ceres  asks 
The  reaper's  sickle,  what  like  magic  sound. 
Puffed  from  sonorous  bellows  by  the  squeeze 
Of  tuneful  artist,  can  the  rage  disarm 
Of  the  swart  dog-star,  and  make  harvest  light? 

And  now  thy  mills  ^ance  eager  in  the  gale  ; 
Feed  well  their  eagerness  :  but,  0,  beware  ; 
Nor  trust  between  the  steel-cased  cylinders 
The  hand  incautious  :  off  the  member  snapt 
Thou  'It  ever  rue,  sad  spectacle  of  woo  ! 

Are  there  —  the  Muse  can  scarce  believe  the  tale  — 
Are  there,  who,  lost  to  every  feeling  sense. 
To  reason,  interest,  lost,  their  slaves  desert, 
And  manumit  them  —  generous  boon  !  —  to  starve. 
Maimed  by  imprudence,  or  the  hand  of  Heaven  ? 
The  good  man  feeds  his  blind,  his  aged  steed. 
That  in  his  service  spent  his  vigorous  prime  : 
And  dares  a  mortal  to  his  fellow-man 
(For,  spite  of  vanity,  thy  slaves  are  men) 
Deny  protection  ?     Muse,  suppress  the  tale  ! 


Ye,  who  in  bundles  bind  the  lopt-off  canes, 
But  chiefly  ye  who  feed  the  tight-braced  mill, 
In  separate  parcels  far  the  infected  fling  : 
Of  bad  cane-juico  the  least  admixture  spoils 
The  richest,  soundest  ;  thus,  in  pastoral  walks, 
One  tainted  sheep  contaminates  the  fold. 


WINTER  —  DECEMBER. 


431 


Nor  yut  to  dung-hoapa  thou  resign  the  oanes, 
Which  or  tlio  sun  hftth  burnt,  or  rata  hiivo  gnawed. 
These,  to  suiall  junks  reduceil,  and  in  huge  casks 
Steeped,  where  no  cool  winds  blow,  do  thou  fer- 
ment : 
Then,  when,  from  his  entanglements  enlarged, 
Th'  evasive  spirit  mounts,  by  Vulcan's  aid 
(Nor  Amphitryto  will  her  help  deny). 
Do  thou  through  all  his  winding  ways  pursue 
The  runaway  ;  till,  in  thy  sparkling  bowl 
Confined,  he  dances,  more  a  friend  to  life 
And  joy  than  that  nepenthe,  famed  of  yoro, 
Which  Polydamia,  Thono's  imperial  queen. 
Taught  Jovc-born  Ilelen  on  the  banks  of  Nile. 

CA»E  OK  THB  WISD-MH.I3  j  THEIR  CNCEUTilSTV 

As  on  old  ocean,  when  the  wind  blows  high, 
The  cautious  mariner  contracts  his  sail, 
So  hero,  when  squally  bursts  the  speeding  gale, 
If  thou  from  ruin  wouldst  thy  points  preserve, 
Less  bellying  canvas  to  the  storm  oppose. 

Yet  the  faint  breeze  oft  flags  on  listless  wings, 
Nor  tremulates  the  coco's  airiest  arch. 
While  the  red  sun  darts  deluges  of  fire. 
And  soon  (if  on  tho  gale  thy  crop  depend) 
Will  all  thy  hopes  of  opulence  defeat. 

ArOSTROPHE  TO  TUE  SCS.  —  iSTIOei   DROUOHTS. 

•  Informer  of  the  planetary  train  ! ' 
Source  undiminished  of  all-cheering  light, 
or  roseate  beauty,  and  heart-gladdening  joy  ! 
Fountain  of  Being,  on  whoso  water  broods 
The  organic  spirit,  principle  of  life  ! 
Lord  of  the  Seasons  !  who  in  courtly  pomp 
Lackey  thy  presence,  and,  with  glad  despatch, 
Pour,  at  thy  bidding,  o'er  the  land  and  sea  ! 
Parent  of  vegetation  !  whose  fond  grasp 
Tho  sugar-cane  displays  ;  and  whose  green  car 
Soft-stealing  dews,  with  liquid  pearls  adorned, 
Fat-fostering  rains,  and  buxom  genial  airs. 
Attend  triumphant !     Why,  ah,  why  so  oft. 
Why  hath  Antigua,  sweetly-social  isle. 
Nurse  of  each  art,  where  science  yet  finds  friends 
Amid  this  waste  of  waters,  wept  thy  rage  7 

DF.:iCRIPTIOS   OF  THE  CATTLE-MU.l,   FOB  tiRI.VDISO  THE  CASE. 

Then  trust  not,  planter,  to  tho  unsteady  gale  ; 
But  in  Tobago's  endless  forests  fell 
The  tall,  tough  hickory,  or  calaba. 
Of  this  be  forced  two  pillars  in  tho  ground. 
Four  paces  distant,  and  two  cubits  high  : 
Other  two  pillars  raise  ;  the  wood  the  same. 
Of  equal  sizo  and  height.     The  calaba. 
Than  steel  more  durable,  contemns  the  rain. 
And  .sun's  intensest  beam  ;  the  worm,  that  pest 
Of  mariners,  which  winds  its  fatal  way 
Through  heart  of  British  onk,  reluctant  leaves 
The  closer  calaba.  —  By  transverse  beams 
Secure  the  whole  ;  and  in  tho  pillared  frame 
Sink,  artist,  tho  vast  bridge-tree's  mortised  form 
Of  ponderous  hickory  ;  hickory  time  defies  : 


To  this  be  nailed  three  polished  iron  phitos  ; 

Whereon  throe  steel  Capouces  turn  with  ease, 

Of  three  long  rollers,  twice  nine  inches  round, 

With  iron  cased,  and  jagged  with  many  a  cog. 

Tho  central  cylinder  exceeds  the  rest 

In  portly  size,  thence  aptly  Captain  named. 

To  this  be  riveted  th'  extended  sweeps  ; 

And  harness  to  each  sweep  two  seasoned  mules  : 

They,  pacing  round,  give  motion  to  the  whole. 

Tho  close-braced  cylinders  with  ease  revolve 

On  their  greased  axle,  and  with  ease  reduce 

To  trash  tho  canes  thy  negroes  throw  between. 

Fast  flows  tho  liquor  through  the  lead-lined  spouts; 

And,  depurated  by  opposing  wires, 

In  the  receiver  floats  a  limpid  stream. 

So  twice  five  casks,  with  muscovado  filled. 

Shall  from  thy  stanchions  drip,  ere  day's  bright  god 

Hath  in  tho  Atlantic  six  times  cooled  his  wheels. 


thou  against  calamity  provide  7 
Let  a  well-shinglcd  roof,  from  Raleigh's  land, 
Defend  thy  stock  from  noon's  inclement  blaze. 
And  from  night-dews  ;  for  night  no  respite  knows. 

Nor,  when  their  destined  labor  is  performed. 
Bo  thou  ashamed  to  load  the  panting  mules 
(The  Muse,  soft  parent  of  each  social  grace, 
Witli  eyes  of  love  God's  whole  creation  views) 
To  the  warm  pen  ;  where  copious  forage  strewed. 
And  strenuous  rubbing,  renovate  their  strength. 
So,  fewer  ails  (alas,  how  prone  to  ails  !) 
Their  days  shall  shorten  ;  ah,  too  short  at  best ! 


For  not  even  then,  my  friend,  art  thou  secure 
From  fortune  ;  spile  of  all  thy  steady  care. 
What  ills,  that  laugh  to  scorn  Machaon's  art. 
Await  thy  cattle  !  farcy's  tabid  form. 
Joint-racking  spasms,  and  colic's  pungent  pang, 
Need  the  Muse  tell  ?  which,  in  one  luckless  moon, 
Thy  sheds  dispeople  ;  when  perhaps  thy  groves. 
To  full  perfection  shot,  by  day,  by  night, 
Indesinent  demand  their  vigorous  toil. 

WATER-MILLS  LEAST  PBECABIOrS  FOR  QBISniSO  CASE. 

Then  happiest  he  for  whom  the  Naiads  pour. 
From  rocky  urns,  the  never-ceasing  stream, 

I  To  turn  his  rollers  with  unbought  despatch. 

j       In  Karukcra's  rich,  well-watered  isle. 
In  Mativnina,  boast  of  Albion's  arms. 
The  brawling  Naiads  for  the  planters  toil, 
Ilowe'er  unworthy  ;  and,  through  solemn  scenes. 
Romantic,  cool,  with  rock  and  woods  between, 
Enchant  the  senses  !  but  among  thy  swains, 
.Sweet  Liamuiga,  who  such  bliss  can  boast? 

LORD  ROXMIT  BCTLOGIZED. 

Yes,  Romney,  thou  mayst  boast ;  of  British  heart, 
Of  courtly  manners,  joined  to  ancient  worth  : 
Friend  to  thy  Britain's  every  blood-earned  right, 
!  From  tyrants  wrung,  the  many  or  the  few. 


432 


RURAL  POETRY.  —  GRAINGER. 


By  wealth   by  titles  by  ambition's  luie 

Not  to  be  tcmpte  i  fro  ii  ftii  h  n  is  patn 

While  othei     f  I    1     II  ft  tl    ir  pincc 

Bold  disapri        1         1       M  i  i 

Their  tern  i  I  1      I     1     |      |  I       ml 

In  lignant   ii   ll  i       ] 

\u  1   with  the  w  11  u       1  II 

Then    leci  u     sultk      il  I    ,  I 

Tht,  lu  I    rt  inLL    the  n  1    |  I         I 

Of  cuil  umies   Freed  m  L„        1 

Nor  in  the  senate  di  1  t  thou  only  win 

The  palm  of  eloquence  setuiely  bold 

But  learedst  thy  bannei'i   fluttering  in  the  wind  : 

Ktnt,  fiom  each   hamlet,  pouit  1   hei    marshalled 

To  hurl  defiance  on  the  threatening  Gaul,    [swains, 

Thy  foaming  coppers  well  with  fuel  feed  ; 
For  a  clear,  strong,  continued  fire  improves 
Tliy  muscovado's  color,  and  its  grain.  — 
Yet  vehement  heat,  protracted,  will  consume 
Thy  vessels,  whether  from  the  martial  mine. 
Or  from  thine  ore,  bright  Venus,  they  are  drawn  ; 
Or  hammer,  or  hot  fusion,  give  them  form. 
If  prudence  guides  thee,  then,  thy  stores  shall  hold 
Of  well-sized  vessels  a  complete  supply  : 
For  every  hour  thy  boilers  cease  to  skim 
(Now  Cancer  reddens  with  the  solar  ray) 
Defeats  thy  honest  purposes  of  gain. 


Nor  small  the  risk  (when  piety,  or  chance, 
Force  thee  from  boiling  to  desist)  to  lave 
Thy  heated  furnace  with  the  gelid  stream. 


■\Vhiit  ^ivii'l  r\|,l,,-i,,ii-,  ;,n.|  nJLii  .lire  effects, 
A  few  euld  diLipi  uf  nutur  will  ]jruduce, 
Uueautious,  on  the  novel  fluid  thrown. 

NECESSITY     OF     CLEANLINESS  ;     VENTILATION  ;      HEALTH     OF 
NEGROES. 

For  grain  and  color  wouldst  thou  win,  my  friend, 
At  every  curious  mart,  the  constant  palm  ? 
O'er  all  thy  works  let  cleanliness  preside. 
Child  of  frugality  ;  and  as  the  scum 
Thick  mantles  o'er  the  boiling  wave,  do  thou 
The  scum  that  mantles  carefully  remove. 

From  bloating  drf>p=y.  from  pulmonic  ails, 
Wouldst  thou  drlruA  iliv  l..,il,  i^  (prlmc  of  slaves). 
For  days,  for  iiii:lii..  i.i  n.  ri,.,  i,,,-  luonths,  involved 
In  the  warm  v^qun  -  all-i.lux.n-  steam? 
Thy  boiling  llouse  be  lofty  :  all  atop 
Open,  and  pervious  to  the  tropic  breeze  ;        [grate. 
Whose    cool    perflation,   wooed   through   many   a 
Dispels  the  steam,  and  gives  the  lungs  to  play. 


The  skilled  in  chemia,  boast  of  modern  arts. 
Know,  from  experiment,  the  sire  of  truth, 
In  many  a  plant  that  oil,  and  acid  juice, 


And  ropy  mucilage,  by  nature  live  : 
These,  envious,  stop  the  much-desired  embrace 
Of  the  essential  salts,  though  coction  bid 
The  aqueous  particles  to  mount  in  air. 

'Mong  salts  es^ntial,  sugar  wins  the  palm. 
For  taste,  for  color,  and  for  various  use  : 
Aii.l.  Ill  the  nectar  of  the  yellowest  cane, 
-Mil.  I,  iir.ir,  oil,  and  mucilage,  abound  : 
i;iii  111  the  less  mature,  from  mountain  land, 
Thvse  harsh  intruders  so  redundant  float. 
Muster  so  strong,  as  scarce  to  be  subdued. 


Muse,  sing  the  ways  to  quell  them.     Some  use 

That  cane  whose  juices,  to  the  tongue  applied. 
In  silence  lock  it,  sudden,  and  constrained 
(Death  to  Xantippe),  with  distorting  jiain. 
Nor  is  it  not  effectual :  but  wouldst  thou 
Have  rival  brokers  for  thy  cades  contend, 
Superior  arts  remain.  —  Small  casks  provide, 
Replete  with  limestone  thoroughly  calcined, 
And  from  the  air  secured  ;  this  Bristol  sends, 
Bristol,  Britannia's  second  mart  and  eye  ! 


Nor  '  to  thy  waters  only  trust  for  fame,' 
Bristol  ;   nor  to  thy  beamy  diamonds  trust  : 
Though  these  oft  deck  Britannia's  lovely  fair. 
And  those  oft  save  the  guardians  of  her  realm. 
Thy  marble  quarries  claim  the  voice  of  praise. 
Which  rich  incrusts  thy  Avon  banks,  sweet  banks  ! 
Though  not  to  you  young  Shakspeare,  Fancy's  child. 
All  rudely  warbled  his  first  woodland  notes  ; 
Though  not  your  caves,  while  terror  stalked  around. 
Saw  him  essay  to  clutch  the  ideal  sword. 
With  dn.ps  of  blood  distflinf-d  :  yet,  lovely  banks. 


Bristol,  williiiiit  lliy  iiiiiilile,  by  the  flame 
Calcined  t"  ulntin.-.,  \;iin  tlie  stately  reed 
Would  swfll  niilijiiii  r  1,1,  lliihicnt  ;  hcatwould 

The  strongest,  bost-liiiii_  im ■,■■  r..ii-,ime. 

Without  its  aid,  tlir  ■■...  i-r.n]  i  ■-,■!,]  -tiram. 

Seldom  allowed  til  \  i'      ■..    Iiy, 

Though  late  it  roam,,!  n  ,|,,ii,,  i,  .,i  .lir, 
Would  steal  from  its  involuntary  bouuds, 
And,  by  sly  windings,  set  itself  at  large. 
But  chief  thy  lime  the  experienced  boiler  love 
Nor  loves  ill-fouuded  ;  when  no  other  art 
Can  bribe  to  union  the  coy  floating  salts, 
A  proper  portion  of  this  precious  dust. 
Cast  in  the  wave  (so  showers  alone  of  gold 
Could  win  fair  Daiiae  to  the  gods  embrace). 
With  nectared  muscovado  soon  will  charge 


WINTER —  DECEMBER. 


Thy  shelving  coolers,  irhioh,  sovorcly  pressed 
Between  the  fingers,  not  resolves  ;  and  which 
Rings  in  tho  cask  ;  and  or  a  light-brown  hue. 
Or  thine,  more  precious  silvery-gray,  assumes. 


Tho  famed  Bermuda's  evor-healthy  isles  — 
Jloro  famed  by  gentle  Waller's  deathless  strains, 
Than  for  their  cedars,  which,  insulting,  fly 
O'er  the  wide  ocean  —  'mid  their  roclts  contain 
A  stone,  which,  when  calcined  (exporionoo  says), 
Is  only  second  to  Sabrina's  lime. 


MHiilo  flows  tho  juice  mellifluent  from  tho  cane. 
Grudge  not,  my  friend,  to  let  thy  slaves,  each  morn, 
But  chief  tho  sick  and  young  at  setting  day, 
Themselves  regale  with  oft-ropeatcd  draughts 
Of  tepid  nectar  ;  so  shall  health  and  strength 
Confirm  thy  Negroes,  and  make  labor  light. 

JOLLITY  OF  TUB  SLAVES  i  DRV  TIME  BEST  FOR  DOtLISO. 

While  flame   thy  chimneys,  while  thy  coppers 

IIuw  blithe,  how  jocund,  the  plantation  smiles  ! 

By  day,  by  night,  resounds  the  choral  song 

Of  glad  barbarity  ;  serene,  the  sun 

Shines  not  intensely  hot  ;  the  trade-wind  blows  ; 

How  sweet,  how  silken,  is  its  noontide  breath  ! 

While  to  far  climes  the  fell  destroyer,  Death, 

Wings  his  dark  flight.    Then  seldom  pray  for  rain  : 

Rather  for  cloudless  days  thy  prayers  prefer  ; 

For,  if  tho  skies  too  frequently  relent. 

Crude  flows  the  cane-juice,  and  will  long  elude 

Tho  boiler's  wariest  skill  :  thy  canes  will  spring 

To  an  unthrifty  loftiness  ;  or,  weighed 

Down  by  their  load  (Ambition's  curse),  decay. 


Encourage  thou  thy  boilers  ;  much  depends 
On  their  skilled  efforts.     If  too  soon  they  strike. 
Ere  all  the  watery  particles  have  fled. 
Or  lime  suflicient  granulate  the  juice. 
In  vain  the  thickening  liquor  is  effused  ; 
An  heterogeneous,  on  uncertain  mass. 
And  never  in  thy  coolers  to  condense. 

BOIL  SOT  TOO  MCCn  -,  MELiSSKS  ;  WISE. 

Or,  planter,  if  tho  ooction  they  prolong 
Beyond  its  stated  time,  tho  viscous  wave 
Will  in  huge  flinty  masses  crystallize, 
Which  forceful  fingers  scarce  can  crumble  down, 
And  which  with  its  melasses  ne'er  will  part : 
Yet  this,  fast-dripping  in  nectareous  drops, 
Not  only  bettors  what  remains,  but,  when 
With  art  fermented,  yields  a  noble  wine. 
Than  which  nor  Gallia,  nor  the  Indian  clime, 
AVliero  rolls  the  Ganges,  can  a  nobler  show. 
So  misers  in  their  cofi'ers  look  that  gold. 
Which,  if  allowed  at  liberty  to  roam. 
Would  better  them,  and  benefit  mankind. 


sr 


now  TO  PREVBST  TOO  LOOSE  OBilS. 

In  the  last  coppers  when  tho  embrowning  wav 
With  sudden  fury  swells,  some  grease  imini.xed 
The  foaming  tumult  sudden  will  compose. 
And  force  to  union  tho  divided  grain. 
So  when  two  swarms  in  airy  battle  join, 
Tho  wing6d  heroes  heap  the  bloody  field  ; 
Until  some  dust,  thrown  upward  in  the  sky. 
Quell  tho  wild  conflict,  and  sweet  peace  restore. 


False  QoUia's  sons,  that  hoe  tho  ooonn-isles, 
Mix  with  their  sugar  loads  of  worthless  sand, 
Fraudful,  thoir  weight  of  sugar  to  increase. 
Far  bo  such  guile  from  Britain's  honest  swains  ! 
Such  arts  a  while  tho  unwary  may  surprise, 
And  -benefit  tho  impostor  ;  but,  ero  long, 
The  skilful  buyer  will  tho  fraud  detect, 
And  with  abhorrence  reprobate  tho  namo. 

TUE  TRICKS  OF  AViRlCE  IS  SCCAR3. 

Fortune  had  crowned  Avaro's  younger  years 
With  a  largo  tract  of  hind,  on  which  tho  cane 
Delighted  grew,  nor  ayk.-l  tlm  t-l    .f  :iit, 
Tho  sugar-bakers  dccMjM  I  :      L,  nr 

Of  mighty  profit,  coulii  li:    ,   i   i       ■  ; 

For  whiteness,  hardnof-.  i-  ili-  I  .  ,i  n  I  rr"|i. 

His  muscovado  gave.     But,  nut  eontciit 

With  this  preeminence  of  honest  gain. 

Ho  baser  sugars  started  in  his  casks  ; 

His  own,  by  mixing  sordid  things,  debased. 

One  year  tho  fraud  succeeded  ;  wealth  immense 

Flowed  in  upon  him,  and  he  blest  his  wiles  : 

The  next,  the  brokers  spurned  th'  adulterate  mass. 

Both  on  tho  Avon  and  tho  banks  of  Thame. 

CSE  OF  SKIUMISOS  j    FOOD  FOB  SWISE  ASD  3ICLES. 

Be  thrifty,  planter,  —  even  thy  skimmings  sjive  : 
For,  planter,  know,  tho  refuse  of  the  eano 
Serves  needful  purposes.     Arc  barbecues  [feed 

Tho  oatos  thou  lov'st '!     Wliat  like  rich  skimmings 
Tho  grunting,  bristly  kind  ?     Your  laboring  mules 
They  soon  invigorate  :  give  old  Bayard  these, 
Untircd  he  trudges  in  his  destined  round. 
Nor  need  the  driver  crack  his  horrid  lash. 

Yet  with  small  quantities  indulge  tho  stood. 
Whom  skimmings  ne'er  have  fattened  ;    else,  too 

So  gluttons  use,  he  '11  cat  intempcrato  meals, 
And,  staggering,  fall  tho  prey  of  ravening  sharks. 


But  say,  ye  boon  companions,  in  wlmt  strains. 
What  grateful  strains,  shall  I  record  tho  praise 
Of  their  best  produce,  heart-recruiting  rum?' 
Thrice  wholesome  spirit !  wcU-maturcd  with  ogo. 
Thrice  grateful  to  tho  palate  !  when,  with  thirst, 
With  heat,  with  labor,  and  wan  caro  oppressed, 


434 


RURAL  POETRY. GRAINGER. 


I  quaff  thy  bowl,  where  fruit  my  hands  have  culled, 
Round,  golden  fruit  :  where  water  from  the  spring, 
Which    dripping    coolness    spreads    her    umbrage 

round,  '' 

With  hardest,  whitest  sugar  thrice  refined  ; 
Dilates  my  soul  with  genuine  joy  ;  low  care 
I  spurn  indignant ;  toil  a  pleasure  seems,  [bounds, 
For  not  Marne's  flowery  banks,  nor  Tille's  green 
Where  Ceres  with  the  god  of  vintage  reigns. 
In  happiest  union  ;  not  Vigornian  hills, 
Pomona's  loved  abode,  afford  to  man 
Goblets  more  prized,  or  laudable  of  taste. 
To  slake  parched  thirst,  and  mitigate  the  clime. 


Yet,  'mid  this  blest  ebriety,  some  tears 
For  friends  I  left  in  Albion's  distant  isle. 
For  Johnson,  Percy,  White,  escape  mine  eyes  : 
For  her,  fair  authoress,  whom  first  Calpo's  rocks 
A  sportive  infant  saw  ;  and  whose  green  years 
True  genius  blest  with  her  benignest  gifts 
Of  happiest  fancy.     0,  were  ye  all  here, 
0,  were  ye  here,  with  him,  my  Pteon's  son  ! 
Long  known,  of  worth  approved,  thrice  candid  soul  ! 
How  would  your  converse  charm  the  lonely  hour  ! 
Your  converse,  where  mild  wisdom  tempers  mirth  ; 
And  charity,  the  petulance  of  wit ; 
How  would  your  converse  polish  my  rude  lays, 
With  what  new,  noble  images  adorn  ! 
Then  should  I  scarce  regret  the  banks  of  Thames, 
All  as  we  sat  beneath  that  sand-box  shade  ; 
Whence  the  delighted  eye  expatiates  wide 
O'er  the  fair  landscape,  where  in  loveliest  forms 
Green  cultivation  hath  arrayed  the  land. 


See  there  what  mills,  like  giants,  raise  their  arms, 
To  quell  the  speeding  gale  !  what  smoke  ascends 
From  every  boiling  house  !  what  structures  rise. 
Neat  though  not  lofty,  pervious  to  the  breeze. 
With  galleries,  porches,  or  piazzas,  graced  ! 
Nor  not  delightful  are  those  red-built  huts, 
On  yonder  hill,  that  front  the  rising  sun  ; 
With  plantains,  with  bananas,  bosomed  deep, 
That  flutter  in  the  wind  ;  where  frolic  goats 
Butt  the  young  negroes,  while  their  swarthy  sires 
With  ardent  gladness  wield  the  bill  ;  — and  hark, 
The  crop  is  finished,  how  they  rend  the  sky  ! 


Nor  beauteous  only  shows  the  cultured  soil. 
From  this  cool  station.     No  less  charms  the  eye 
That  wild,  interminable  waste  of  waves  : 
While  on  the  horizon's  furthest  verge  are  seen 
Islands  of  different  shape,  and  different  size  ; 
While   sail-clad   ships,  with   their   sweet   produce 

fraught. 
Swell  on  the  straining  sight  ;  while  near  yon  rock, 
On  which  ten  thousand  wings  with  ceaseless  clang 


Their  eyries  build,  a  water-spout  descends. 

And  shakes  mid  ocean  ;  and  while  there  below 

That  town,  embowered  in  the  different  shade 

Of  tamarinds,  panspans,  and  papaws,  o'er  which 

A  double  Iris  throws  her  painted  arch. 

Shows  commerce  toiling  in  each  crowded  street, 

And  each  thronged  street  with  limpid  currents  laved. 


What  though  no  bird  of  scu;,'  lur,-  .liaims  the 
With  her  wild  minstrelsy,  far,  l:ii  In  yniil        [^onse 
The  unnatural  quavers  of  II.-i..  ,  i:,,,  tin.  it    < 
Though  the  chaste  poet  of  tUi;  \  uiual  ivuodi, 
That  shuns  rude  folly's  din,  delight  not  here 
The  listening  eve  ;  and  though  no  herald-lark 
Here  leave  his  couch,  high-towering  to  descry 
The  approach  of  dawn,  and  hail  her  with  his  song  : 
Yet  not  unmusical  the  tinkling  lapse 
Of  yon  cool  argent  rill,  which  Phcebus  gilds 
With  his  first  orient  rays  ;  yet  musical 
Those  buxom  airs  that  through  the  plantains  play. 
And  tear  with  wantonness  their  leafy  scrolls  ; 
Yet  not  unmusical  the  waves'  hoarse  sound. 
That  dashes,  sullen,  on  the  distant  shore  ; 
Yet  musical  those  little  insects'  hum. 
That  hover  round  us,  and  to  Reason's  ear 
Deep  moral  truths  convey  ;  while  every  beam 
Flings  on  them  transient  tints,  which  vary  when 
They  wave  their  purple  plumes  ;  yet  musical 
The  love-lorn  cooing  of  the  mountain-dove, 
That  woos  to  pleasing  thoughtfulness  the  soul ; 
But  chief  the  breeze,  that  murmurs  through  yon 
Enchants  the  ear  with  tunable  delight.  [canes, 

THE   CREOLES   DRGED   TO   LrVE  ON  THEIR  PLANTATIONS. 

While  such  fair  scenes  adorn  these  blissful  isles, 
AThy  will  their  sons,  ungrateful,  roam  abroad  ? 
Why  spend  their  opulence  in  other  climes  ? 

Say,  is  preeminence  your  partial  aim  ?  — 
Distinction  courts  you  here  ;   the  senate  calls. 
Here  crouching  slaves  attendant  wait  your  nod  : 
'\Vhile  there,  unnoted,  but  for  folly's  garb. 
For  folly's  jargon,  your  dull  hours  ye  pass, 
Eclipsed  by  titles  and  superior  wealth. 

MARTIAL  GLORY  AND  PATRIOTISM  SHODLD  PREVENT  ABSENT- 

Does  martial  ardor  fire  your  generous  veins  ? 
Fly  to  your  native  isles  :  Bellona  there 
Hath  long  time  reared  her  bloody  flag  ;  these  isles 
Your  strenuous  arms  demand  ;  for  ye  are  brave  ! 
No  longer  to  the  lute  and  tabor's  sound 
Weave  antic  measures.     0,  could  my  weak  song  — 
0,  could  my  song,  like  his,  heaven-favored  bard. 
Who  led  desponding  Sparta's  oft-beat  hosts 
To  victory,  to  glory  — fire  your  souls 
With  English  ardor  !  for  now  England's  swains 
(The  man  of  Norfolk,  swains  of  England,  thank). 
All  emulous,  to  Freedom's  standard  fly. 
And  drive  invasion  from  their  native  shore  : 
How  would  my  soul  exult  with  conscious  pride, 
Nor  grudge  those  wreaths  Tyrta;us  gained  of  yore  ! 


WINTEa  —  DECEMBER. 


435 


LCXLRlia  OF  THS  TEST  ISDIia  J    PISS-APPLB,  TOBTLH,  JKW- 
Fisn,  CBllM,  MCTTOX,  WISKS,  OASB. 

Or,  aro  yo  fond  of  rich  luxurious  cates  ^  — 
Con  aught  in  Europe  emulate  the  pine, 
Or  fruit  forbidden,  native  of  your  isles  ? 
Sons  of  Apioius,  say,  can  Europe's  seas, 
Can  aught  the  edible  creation  yields. 
Compare  with  turtle,  boast  of  land  and  wave  ? 
Can  Europe's  seos,  in  all  their  finny  realms, 
Aught  so  delicious  as  the  Jew-fish  show? 
Tell  mo  what  viands,  land  or  streams  produce, 
The  large,  black,  female  moulting  crab  excel ! 
A  richer  flavor  not  wild  Cambria's  hills,       Isprcad, 
Nor  Scotia's   rocks,  with   heath   and   thyme  o'er- 
Givo  to  their  flocks,  than,  lone  Barduda,  you, 
Than  you,  Anguilln,  to  your  sheep  impart. 
Even  Britain's  vintage  here,  improved,  wo  tiuaff  j 
Even  Lusitanian,  even  Hesperian  wines. 
Those  from  the  Khine's  imperial  banks  (poor  Rhino  ! 
How  have  thy  banks  been  dyed  with  brother-blood  ! 
Unnatural  warfare  !)  strength  and  flavor  gain 
In  this  delicious  clime.     Besides,  the  cane, 
Wafted  to  every  quarter  of  the  globe. 
Makes  the  vast  produce  of  tho  world  your  own. 

ABGCMKNTS  AGAINST  ABSENTBEISM  DRAWN   FRO.U  THE  LOVE  OF 
XATUKE  ,  GBANDECR  OF  NATURE  IS  THE  WEST  INDIES. 

Or,  rather,  doth  the  love  of  nature  charm, 
Its  mighty  love  your  chief  attention  claim, 
Leave  Europe  ;  there,  through  all  her  coyest  ways, 
Her  secret  mazes,  nature  is  pursued  ; 
But  hero,  with  savage  loneliness,  she  reigns 
On  yonder  peak,  whence  giddy  fancy  looks, 
Affrighted,  on  the  laboring  main  below. 
Heavens  !  what  stupendous,  what  unnumbered  trees, 
<  Stage  above  stage,  in  vorious  verdure  drest,' 
Unprofitable  shag  its  airy  cliffs  !  [bloom. 

Heavens  !  what  now  shrubs,  what  herbs,  with  useless 
Adorn  its  channelled  sides  ;  and,  in  its  caves, 
AVhat  sulphurs,  ores,  what  earth  and  stones,  abound  ! 
There  let  Philosophy  conduct  thy  steps, 
'  For  naught  is  useless  made  : '  with  candid  search. 
Examine  oil  the  properties  of  things  ; 
Immense  discoveries  soon  will  crown  your  toil. 
Your  time  will  soon  repay. 

THE  ACTDOR'S  aspirations  TO  BE  USEFUL. 

Ah  !  when  will  cares, 
Tho  cares  of  fortune,  less  my  minutes  claim  ? 
Then,  with  what  joy,  what  energy  of  soul, 
Will  I  not  climb  yon  mountain's  airiest  brow  ! 
The  dawn,  the  burning  noon,  the  setting  sun, 
The  midnight  hour,  shall  hear  my  constant  vows 
To  Nature,  see  mo  prostrate  at  her  shrine  ! 
And,  0,  if  haply  I  may  aught  invent 
Of  use  to  mortal  man,  life  to  prolong, 
To  soften,  or  adorn,  what  genuine  joy. 
What  exultation  of  supreme  delight, 
Will  swell  my  raptured  bosom  !     Then,  when  death 
Shall  call  mo  hence,  I  'II  unrepining  go  ; 


filter  for  the  house  anil  Irailcs  than  for  the  field.  The 
Qolil-coast,  but  especially  llie  l'ap»w-ncf[rooi,  make  the 
Iwst  llckl-ncgrocs  :  but  even  lUcsc,  If  advanced  In  yenm, 
should  not  be  purchnsed.  The  marks  of  a  sound  negro 
Where  the  men  do  nothing  but  hunt, 
I  nil  ncld  drudgery  Is  left  to  the  women, 

The  MInnnhs 

The  Miin- 

and  the  CoiiRo* 

How 

rt.    NaT'».-9 

should  be  habituated  by  gentle  degrees  to  tklil  luli.ji-. 
This  labor,  when  compared  to  that  In  lead-mines,  it  of 
those  who  work  In  the  gold  ami  silver  mines  in  Soutli 


vy  conquerors  t 


■  storied  ton 


1  not  a  stone  point  out  my  humble  grave. 


Negroes  should  always  be  treated  with  huiniinlty.  Praise 
of  freodom.  Of  the  dnicunculus,  or  dragon-worm.  Of 
chigrfs.  Of  the  yaws.  Might  not  this  diseasie  be  Im- 
piirted  liy  inoeuliitii>n  !  Of  worms,  and  tliclr  multiform 
npiiiuraiicc.  Praise  of  commerce.  Of  the  lumcinary 
disorders  of  negroes,  especially  those  caused  by  their  on- 
Jurcrs,  or  Oblameo  The  composition  and  supposed  virtues 
of  a  magic  phial.  Field-negroes  should  not  begin  to  work 
before  six  in  the  morning,  and  should  leave  oft  between 
eleven  and  twelve  :  and,  beginning  again  at  two,  should 
finish  before  sunset.  Of  the  weekly  aUowance  of  negroes. 
The  young,  the  old,  the  siclcly,  and  even  the  lazy,  must 
have  their  victuals  prepared  for  them.  Of  negro  ground, 
and  its  various  productions.  To  be  fenced  In,  and 
watclied.  Of  an  American  garden.  Of  the  situntlon  of 
negro-huts.  Uow  best  defended  from  Hre.  The  great 
negro-dance  descrlbe<l.  Drumming  and  intoxicating  spirits 
not  lo  l)e  allowed.  Negroes  should  be  made  to  marry 
in  t)ieir  master's  plantation.  Inconveniences  arising 
from  the  contrary  practice.  Negroes  to  be  clollieil  once 
a  year,  and  before  Christmas.  Praise  of  Louis  XIV.  for 
the  Code  Noir.  A  body  of  laws  of  this  kind  recommended 
to  the  Knglish  sugar  colonies.  Praise  of  the  river  Thames. 
A  moonlight  landscai>e  and  vision. 

rUK  NEGRO  RACE  ;  ITS  VARIETIES,  AND  THEIR  QUALITIE.*  AND 
TREATMENT.  —  AFRICA  APOSTROPUIZKD. 

Genius  of  Afric  !  whether  thou  bcstrid'st 
The  castled  elephant  ;   or  at  tho  source 
(While  howls  tho  desert  fearfully  around) 
Of  thine  own  Niger  sadly  thuu  reclin'st 
Thy  temples  shaded  li.v  iln   ii    imil n    |;ilin, 
Or  quick  papaw,  wini-i'  i    >       i      '  .  i      I  i^-und 

With  numerous  rows  ■!      .  ni  : 

Or  hoar'st  thou  rather  Iniii  ii,i    r      ,_.  I.inl>s 

Of  Uio  Grande,  or  black  Senaga, 

Where  dauntless  thou  tho  headlong  torrent  brav'st 

In  search  of  gold,  to  breed  thy  woolly  locks. 

Or  with  bright  ringlets  ornament  thino  ears. 

Thine  arms,  and  ankles  :  0,  attend  my  song  ! 

A  muse  that  pities  thy  distressful  state. 

Who  sees  with  grief  thy  sons  in  fetters  bouud. 

Who  wishes  freedom  to  tho  race  of  man. 

Thy  nod  osscnting  craves  :  dread  Genius,  come  ! 

Yet  vain  thy  presence,  vain  thy  favoring  nod, 
Unless  once  more  tho  muses,  that  ercwhilo 
Upheld  mo  fainting  in  my  past  career 
Through  Caribbo's  cano-islcs,  kindly  condescend 
To  guide   my   footsteps   through   parched   Libya's 

wilds. 
And  bind  my  sunburnt  brow  with  other  bays 
Than  over  decked  tho  Sylvan  bard  before. 

DEDICATION  TO  GENERAL  MELVIL. 

Say,  will  my  Melvil  from  tho  public  care 
Withdraw  one  moment  to  tho  muses  shrine  7 


RURAL    POETRY. GRAINGER. 


Who,  smit  with  thy  fair  fame,  industrious  cull 

An  Indian  wreath  to  mingle  with  thy  bays. 

And  del;  thv  h.io  and  the  scholar's  brow  ! 

AVilt  thnti.  whoM'  hiildiiL'ss  smooths  the  face  of  wa 

Whi.  Y'lwr.'l  the  \  I>l  i.r-ldade  the  myrtle  twin'st. 

And  iii:ik'-i  Hil  |.  ■■!  iMii  l.iyal  and  sincere  ; 

0,  will  tlpn  -1.1.  1  -IK  hoar  the  unartful  strain, 

A\'hn.->'  iiiiM  ill-till,  liiiii.s  teach,  no  trivial  theme, 

Whiit  i:ii.   III...  ji  tty  African  requires? 

Yes,  thou  wilt  deiyn  to  hear  ;  a  man  thou  art 

Who  deem'st  naught  foreign  that  belongs  to  man. 


In  mind  and  aptitude  for  useful  toil, 
The  negroes  differ  :  iMuse,  that  difference  sing. 

Whether  to  wield  the  hoe  or  guide  the  plane. 
Or  for  domestic  uses,  thou  intend'st 
The  sunny  Libyan,  from  what  clime  they  spring 
It  not  imports,  if  strength  and  youth  he  theirs. 


I'et  those  from  Congo's  wide-extended  plains. 
Through  which  the  long  Zaire  winds  with  crystal 

stream, 
Where  lavish  Nature  sends  indulgent  forth 
Fruits  of  high  flavor,  and  spontaneous  seeds 
Of  bland  nutritious  quality,  ill  bear 
The  toilsome  field  ;  but  boast  a  docile  mind. 
And  happiness  of  features.     These,  with  care. 
Be  taught  each  nice  mechanic  art,  or  trained 
To  household  oflBoes  ;  their  ductile  souls 
Will  all  thy  care  and  all  thy  gold  repay. 


1  Their  thighs  and  legs  in  just  proportion  rise. 
I  Such  soon  will  brave  tlje  fervors  of  the  clime  ; 

And,  free  from  ails  that  kill  thy  negro-train, 
I  A  useful  servitude  will  long  support. 


But,  if  the  labors  of  the  field  demand 
Thy  chief  attention  ;  and  the  ambrosial  cane 
Thou  long'st  to  see,  with  spiry  frequence,  shade 
Many  an  acre  :  planter,  choose  the  slave 
Who  sails  from  barren  climes,  where  want  alone, 
Offspring  of  rude  necessity,  compels 
The  sturdy  native,  or  to  plant  the  soil. 
Or  stem  vast  rivers  for  his  daily  food. 

Such  are  the  children  of  the  Golden  Coast ; 
Such  the  Papaws,  of  negroes  far  the  best ; 
And  such  the  numerous  tribes  that  skirt  the  shore, 
From  rapid  Volta  to  the  distant  Rey. 

But,  planter,  from  what  coast  soe'er  they  sail. 
Buy  not  the  old  :  they  ever  sullen  prove  ; 
With  heartfelt  anguish  they  lament  their  home  ; 
They  will  not,  cannot  work  ;  they  never  learn 
Thy  native  language  ;  they  are  prone  to  ails  j 
And  oft  by  suicide  their  being  end. 

MARKS  Br   WmCH  TO   BOY  .NEGROES. 

Must  thou  from  Afric  reinforce  thy  gang  ?  — 
Let  health  and  youth  their  every  sinew  firm  ; 
Clear  roll  their  ample  eye  ;  their  tongue  be  red  ; 
Broad  swell    their   chest  ;    their    shoulders   wide 

Not  prominent  their  belly  ;  clean  and  strong 


IBEBTY-LOVER,   DANGEROUS. 

Yet,  if  thine  own,  thy  children's  life  be  dear. 
Buy  not  a  Cormantee,  though  healthy,  young. 
Of  breed  too  generous  for  the  servile  field, 
I  They,  born  to  freedom  in  their  native  land, 
I  Choose  death  before  dishonorable  bonds  : 
Or,  fired  with  vengeance,  at  the  midnight  hour. 
Sudden  they  seize  thine  unsuspecting  watch. 
And  thine  own  poniard  bury  in  thy  breast. 


At  home  the  men  in  many  a  sylvan  realm 
Their  rank  tobacco,  charm  of  sauntering  miuds. 
From  clayey  tubes  inhale  ;  or,  vacant,  beat 
For  prey  the  furesi  ;  or  in  wai-'s  dread  ranks 

Their  ciiuiiin      i...  -  :,!i,..„t:  while  in  the  field 

Their  wi\.     i.i i  .\ains,  or  lofty  maize. 

Fell  hull,:;.  I  1     1    ,.  ;.      i:.   i lii..ie  thy  choice  : 
They,  haidy,  h.iL  the  hiburs  of  the  cane 
Soon  grow  familiar  ;  while  unusual  toil, 
And  new  severities,  their  husbands  kill. 


The  slaves  from  Minnah  are  of  stubborn  breed  ; 
But,  when  the  bill  or  hammer  they  affect. 
They  soon  perfection  reach.     But  fly,  with  care. 
The  Moeo-nation  ;  they  themselves  destroy. 


:B  CaARACTERISTICS. 

Worms  lurk  in  all :  yet  proncit  they  to  worms 
Who  from  Mundingo  sail.     AVhen  therefore  such 
Thou  huyst,  for  sturdy  and  laborious  they. 
Straight  let  some  learned  leech  strong  medicines 
'i  ill  I1...1I  anil  rliniato  both  familiar  grow.        [give, 
Tim--,  ilii.ii^li  iiLin  rise  to  set  in  Phcebus'  eye 
Tiii'v  ti.il  inii.ia>ing,  yet  at  night  they'll  sleep 
Lapped  in  Elysium,  and  each  day  at  dawn 
Spring  from  their  couch  as  blithesome  as  the  sun. 

QUALITIES  OF  THE    QCASZi    NEGROES. 

One  precept  more  it  much  imports  to  know.  — 
The  blacks  who  drink  the  Quanza's  lucid  stream, 
Fed  by  ten  thousand  springs,  are  prone  to  bloat, 
Whether  at  home  or  in  these  ocean  isles  : 
And  though  nice  art  the  water  may  subdue. 
Yet  many  die,  and  few  for  many  a  year 
Just  strength  attain  to  labor  for  their  lord. 

now  TO  KEEP  NEGROES  IS  HEALTH  -,  SEASOSISO. 

Wouldst  thou  secure  thine  Ethiop  from  those  ails 
Which  change  of  climate,  change  of  waters  breed. 
And  food  unusual  ?  let  Machaon  draw 
From  each  some  blood,  as  age  and  sex  require  ; 
And  well  with  vervain,  well  with  sempre-vive. 
Unload  their  bowels.     These  in  every  hedge 
Spontaneous  grow.     Nor  will  it  not  conduce 
To  give  what  chemists,  in  mysterious  phrase, 


Term  tho  white  coglo  ;  deadly  foo  to  worms. 

But  chief  do  thou,  my  friend,  with  hearty  food, 

Yi't  easy  of  digestion,  likost  thnt 

Which  they  at  homo  regaled  on,  renovate 

Their  sea-worn  appetites.     Let  gentle  work. 

Or  rather  playful  exercise,  oniuse 

The  novel  gang  :  and  far  bo  angry  words, 

Far  ponderous  chains,  and  far  disheartening  blows. 


From  fruita  restrain  their  eagerness  ;  yet  if 
The  acajou,  haply,  in  thy  garden  bloom, 
With  chLrrios,  or  of  white  or  purple  hue, 
ThiitL'  whulisuino  fruit  in  this  relaxing  clime  ! 
SiilVly  thou  iiiu_v'.-t  their  appetite  indulge. 
Thtir  arid  skins  will  plump,  their  features  shine  : 
No  rheums,  no  dysenteric  ails,  torment ; 
The  thirsty  hydrops  flies.     'T  is  even  averred 
(.Vh,  did  experience  sanctify  the  fact. 
How  many  Libyans  now  would  dig  tho  soil, 
Who  pine  in  hourly  agonies  away  !) 
This  pleasing  fruit,  if  turtle  joins  its  aid. 
Removes  that  worst  of  ails,  disgrace  of  art, 
The  loathsome  leprosy's  infectious  bane. 

DIRT-EATING  NECBOKS. 

There  are,  the  Muse  hath  oft  abhorrent  seen, 
Who  swallow  dirt  (so  the  chlorotic  fair 
Oft  chalk  pvof.T  to  tho  most  poignant  cates); 
Such  dropsy  bloats,  and  to  sure  death  consigns. 
Unless  restrained  from  this  unwholesome  food. 
By  soothing  words,  by  menaces,  by  blows  : 
Nor  yet  will  threats,  or  blows,  or  soothing  words. 
Perfect  their  cure,  unless  thou,  Paean,  dcign*st 
By  medicine's  power  their  cravings  to  subdue. 


trious  search, 


Let  t 


I  lit  I 


For  thy  kcen-stoij;:i  i,i  I  i-- -.  i  .      i:ut  when  tho  earth 
Hath  made  her  annual  pro^^r'-'ss  r-nind  tho  sun. 
What  time  the  conch  or  bell  resounds,  they  may 
All  to  tho  cane-ground  with  thy  gang  repair. 


Nor,  negro,  at  thy  destiny  repine, 
Though  doomed  t"  i..il  iron,  ,1n«o  to  setting  sun. 
Uow  far  more  jl'  '  '  i*k 

Than  theirs  wlo  1 1  <  m  tho  day. 

In  dark  Tartan  ;i  1 1  I  .  ncath 

The  earth's  dark  surface;  wli.re  sulphureous  flames. 
Oft  from  their  vapory  prisons  bursting  wild. 
To  dire  explosion  give  tho  caverned  deep. 
And  in  dread  ruin  all  its  inmates  whelm  ! 
Nor  fateful  only  is  the  bursting  flame  ; 
The  exhalations  of  tho  deep-dug  mine, 
Though  slow,  shako  from  their  wings  as  sure  a  death. 
With  what  intense  severity  of  pain 
Hath  the  aflaiotcd  Muse,  in  Scotia,  seen 
Tho  miners  racked,  who  toil  for  fatal  lead  ! 


487 


What  cramps,  what  palsies,  shako  their  feeble  limbs 

Who  on  the  margin  of  tho  rooky  Dravo 

Trace  silver's  fluent  oro  !  —  Yet  white  men  these  ! 

THE  .negro's  lot  COMPARKD  WITn  THAT  OP  THB    ENSLAVKU 
PEUCVIAS,  CTC. 

How  far  more  happy  ye  than  those  poor  slaves. 
Who,  whilom  under  native  gracious  chiefs, 
Inca«,  and  emperors,  long  time  enjoyed 
Mild  government,  with  every  sweet  of  lifo. 
In  blissful  climates  !     See  them  dragged  in  chains. 
By  proud  insulting  tyrants,  to  the  mines 
Which  once  they  called  their  own,  and  then  despised! 
See,  in  the  mineral  bosom  of  their  land. 
How  hard  they  toil !  how  soon  their  youthful  limbs 
Feel  the  decrepitude  of  age  !  how  soon 
Their  teeth  desert  their  sockets  !  and  how  soon 
Shaking  paralysis  unstrings  their  frame  ! 
Yet  scarce  oven  then  are  they  allowed  to  view 
The  glorious  god  of  day,  of  whom  they  beg. 
With  earnest  hourly  supplications,  death  ; 
Y^et  death  slow  comes  to  torture  them  the  more  ! 

SLAVES  IROED  TO  BE  HAPPT. 

W'ith  these  compared,  ye  sons  of  Afrio,  say, 
How  far  more  happy  is  your  lot !     Bland  health, 
Of  ardent  eye,  and  limb  robust,  attends 
Y'our  customed  labor  ;  and,  should  sickness  seize. 
With  what  solicitude  aro  ye  not  nursed  ! 
Ye  negroes,  then,  your  pleasing  task  pursue. 
And  by  your  toil  deserve  your  master's  care. 

now  TO  MASAOE  SLAVES. 

When  first  your  blacks  aro  novel  to  the  hoe. 
Study  their  humors  :  some  soft-soothing  words, 
Some  presents,  and  some  menaces  subdue  ; 
And  some  I  've  known,  so  stubborn  in  their  kind, 
Whom  blows,  alas  !  could  win  alone  to  toil. 


Y'et,  planter,  let  humanity  prevail. 
Perhaps  thy  negro,  in  his  native  laud. 
Possessed  large  fertile  plains,  and  slaves,  and  herds: 
Perhaps,  whene'er  he  deigned  to  walk  abroad, 
The  richest  silks,  from  where  the  Indus  rolls. 
His  limbs  invested  in  their  gorgeous  plaits  : 
Perhaps  he  wails  his  wife,  his  children,  left 
To  struggle  with  adversity  :  perhaps 
Fortune,  in  battle  for  his  country  fought. 
Gave  him  a  captive  to  his  deadliest  foo  : 
Perhaps,  incautious,  in  his  native  fields 
(On  pleasurable  scenes  his  mind  intent). 
All  as  he  wandered,  from  tho  neighboring  grove 
Fell  ambush  dragged  him  to  the  hated  main. 
Were  they  even  sold  for  crimes,  ye  polished,  say, 
Y'e  to  whom  learning  opes  her  amplest  page, 
Y'e  whom  tho  knowledge  of  a  living  God 
Should  lead  to  virtue,  are  ye  free  from  crimes  ? 
Ah,  pity,  then,  these  uninstructed  swains  ; 
And  still  let  mercy  soften  the  decrees 
Of  rigid  Justice,  with  her  lenient  hand. 


438 


ETJRAL    POETRY.  —  GRAINGER. 


0,  did  the  tender  Muse  possess  the  power 
Which  monarchs  have,  and  munarchs  oft  abuse, 
'T  would  be  the  fond  ambition  of  her  soul 
To  quell  tyrannic  sway  ;  knock  off  the  chains 
Of  heart-debasing  slavery  ;  give  to  man, 
Of  every  color  and  of  every  clime, 
Freedom,  which  stamps  him  image  of  his  God. 
Then  laws,  oppression's  scourge,  fair  virtue's  prop. 
Offspring  of  wisdom,  should  impartial  reign. 
To  knit  the  whole  in  well-accorded  strife  : 
Servants,  not  slaves ;  of  choice,  and  not  compelled  ; 
The  blacks  should  cultivate  the  cane-land  isles. 


Say,  shall  the  muse  the  various  ills  recount 
"Which  negro-nations  feel  ?     Shall  she  describe 
The  worm  that  subtle  winds  into  their  flesh. 
All  as  they  bathe  them  in  their  native  streams? 
There,  with  fell  increment,  it  soon  attains 
A  direful  length  of  harm.     Yet,  if  due  skill 
And  proper  circumspection  are  employed. 
It  may  be  won  its  volumes  to  wind  round 
A  leaden  cylinder  :  but,  0,  beware. 
No  rashness  practise  ;  else  't  will  surely  snap, 
And,  suddenly  retreating,  dire  produce 
An  annual  lameness  to  the  tortured  Moor. 


Nor  only  is  the  dragon-worm  to  dread  : 
Fell  winged  insects,  which  the  visual  ray 
Scarcely  discerns,  their  sable  feet  and  hands 
Oft  penetrate,  and  in  the  fleshy  nest 
Myriads  of  young  produce  ;  which  soon  destroy 
The  parts  they  breed  in,  if  assiduous  care. 
With  art,  extract  not  the  prolific  foe. 


Or  shall  she  sing,  and  not  debase  her  lay, 
The  pest  peculiar  to  the  Ethiop  kind. 
The  yaw's  infectious  bane  ?     The  infected  far 
In  huts  to  leeward  lodge,  or  near  the  main. 
With  heartening  food,  with  turtle,  and  with  conchs. 
The  flowers  of  sulphur,  and  hard  niccars  burnt. 
The  lurking  evil  from  the  blood  expel. 
And  throw  it  on  the  surface  :  there  in  spots 
Which  cause  no  pain,  and  scanty  ichor  yield. 
It  chiefly  breaks  about  the  arms  and  hips, 

A  virulent  contagion  ! When  no  more 

Round  knobby  spots  deform,  but  the  disease 
Seems  at  a  pause,  then  let  the  learned  leech 
Give,  in  due  dose,  live-silver  from  the  mine. 
Till  copious  spitting  the  whole  taint  exhaust. 
Nor  thou  repine,  though  half-way  round  the  sun 
This  globe  her  annual  progress  shall  revolve. 
Ere  cleared  thy  slave  from  all  infection  shine. 
Nor  then  bo  confident ;  successive  crops 
Of  defecations  oft  will  spot  the  skin  : 
Theso  thou,  with  turpentine  and  guaiac  pods. 
Reduced  by  coction  to  a  wholesome  draught, 
Total  remove,  and  give  the  blood  its  balm. 


Say,  as  this  malady  but  once  infects 
The  sons  of  Guinea,  might  not  skill  engraft 
(Thus  the  small-pox  are  happily  conveyed) 
This  ailment  early  to  thy  negro-train  ? 


Yet,  of  the  ills  which  torture  Libya's  sons, 
Worms  tyrannize  the  worst.     They,  Proteus-like, 
Each  symptom  of  each  malady  assume. 
And  under  every  mask  the  assassins  kill. 
Now,  in  the  guise  of  horrid  spasms,  they  writhe 
The  tortured  body,  and  all  sense  o'erpower. 
Sometimes,  like  Mania,  with  her  head  down-cast. 
They  cause  the  wretch  in  solitude  to  pine. 
Or,  frantic,  bursting  from  the  strongest  chains. 
To  frown  with  look  terrific,  not  his  own. 
Sometimes  like  ague,  with  a  shivering  mien. 
The  teeth  gnash  fearful,  and  the  blood  runs  chill ; 
Anon  the  ferment  maddens  in  the  veins. 
And  a  false  vigor  animates  the  frame. 
Again,  the  dropsy's  bloated  mask  they  steal, 
Or  'melt  with  minings  of  the  hectic  fire.' 

REMEDIES    FOR    '  WORMS  ; '    COW-ITCH,  WORM-GRASS,  TIS  ; 
THE  TTRIiNS. 

Say,  to  such  various  forms  of  mimic  death, 
What  remedies  shall  puzzled  art  oppose  ? 
Thanks  to  the  Almighty,  in  each  pathway  hedge 
Rank  cow-itch  grows,  whose    sharp   unnumbered 

stings. 
Sheathed  in  melasses,  from  their  dens  expel. 
Fell  dens  of  death,  the  reptile  lurking  foe. 
A  powerful  vermifuge,  in  skilful  hands. 
The  worm-grass  proves;  yet  even  in  hands  of  skill. 
Sudden,  I  've  known  it  dim  the  visual  ray 
For  a  whole  day  and  night.     There  are  who  use 
(And  sage  experience  justifies  the  use) 
The  mineral  product  of  the  Cornish  mine  ; 
Which  in  old  times,  ere  Britain  laws  enjoyed, 
The  polished  Tyrians,  monarchs  of  the  main. 
In  their  swift  ships  conveyed  to  foreign  realms  : 
The  sun  by  day,  by  night  the  northern  star, 
Their  course  conducted. 

COMMERCE  ;  ITS  EFFECTS  ON  PEOPLES  ;   ISorsTKY. 

Mighty  Commerce,  hail ! 
By  thee  the  sons  of  Attic's  sterile  land, 
A  scanty  number,  laws  imposed  on  Greece. 
Nor  awed  they  Greece  alone;  vast  Asia's  king, 
Though  girt  by  rich-armed  myriads,  at  their  frown 
Felt  his  heart  wither  on  his  furthest  throne. 
Perennial  source  of  population  thou  ! 
While  scanty  peasants  plough  the  flowery  plains 
Of  purple  Enna,  from  the  Belgian  fens 
What  swarms  of  useful  citizens  spring  up, 
Hatched  by  thy  fostering  wing  !    Ah,  where  is  flown 
That  dauntless  free-born  spirit,  which  of  old 
Taught  them  to  shako  off  the  tyrannic  yoke 
Of  Spain's  insulting  king,  on  whose  wide  realms 
The  sun  still  shone  with  undiminished  beam  ? 
Parent  of  wealth  !  in  vain  coy  nature  hoards 


WINTER  —  DECEMBER. 


]Ior  gold  and  diamonda  ;  toil,  th;  firm  compeer, 

And  industry  of  unremitting  ncrvo, 

Scale  tho  cleft  mountain,  tlio  loud  torrent  bravo, 

Plunge  to  tho  centre,  and  througli  Nature's  wiles 

(Led  on  by  skill  of  penetrative  soul), 

Her  following  close,  her  secret  treasure  find, 

To  pour  them  plenteous  on  the  laughing  world. 

On  thee,  Sylvanus,  thee  each  rural  god. 

On  thee,  chief  Cores,  with  unfailing  lovo 

And  fond  distinction,  omulously  gaze. 

CTILITT  ASD  TBUMPlia   OV    COUMKBCB  ;    GREAT    BIUTAIX  J 
COLCMBfS  ;  PORTUGAL. 

In  vain  hath  nature  poured  vast  seas  between 
Far-distant  kingdoms  ;  endless  storms  in  vain 
AVith  double  night  brood  o'er  them ;  thou  dost  throw 
O'er  far-divided  JTature's  realms  a  chain 
To  bind  in  sweet  society  mankind. 
By  thco  white  Albion,  once  a  barbarous  climo. 
Grew  famed  for  arms,  for  wisdom,  and  for  laws  ; 
By  thee  she  holds  the  balance  of  the  world, 
Acknowledged  now  sole  empress  of  tho  main. 
Coy  though  thou  art,  and  nmtable  of  lovo, 
There  mayst  thou  ever  fi.\  thy  wandering  steps, 
While  Eurus  rules  the  wide  Atlantic  foam  ! 
By  thee  thy  favorite  great  Columbus  found 
That  world,  where  now  thy  praises  I  rehearse 
To  the  resounding  main  and  palmy  shore  ; 
And  Lusitania's  chiefs  those  realms  explored. 
Whence  negroes  spring,  tho  subject  of  my  song. 

NEGRO  SfPEBSTlTlO.NS  5   TUE  DEWITCOED. 


They  likewise  feel  imaginary  woes, 

Woes  no  less  deadly.     Luckless  he  who  owns 

The  slave  who  thinks  himself  bewitched ;  and  whom, 

In  wrath,  a   conjurer's    snake-marked    staff   hath 

struck  ! 
They  mope,  love  silence,  every  friend  avoid  ; 
They  inly  pine,  all  aliment  reject, 
Or  insufiieient  for  nutrition  take  ; 
Their  features  droop  ;  a  sickly  yellowish  hue 
Their  skin  deforms  ;  their  strength  and  beauty  fly. 
Then  comes  the  feverish  fiend,  with  fiery  eyes, 
Whom  drought,  convulsions,  and  whom  death  sur- 
Fatal  attendants  !  if  some  subtle  slave  [round, 

(Such  Obia-mcn  are  styled)  do  not  engage 
To  save  tho  wretch  by  antidote  or  spell. 


In  magic  spells  in  Obia  all  tho  sons 
Of  sable  Afric  trust  :  —  Ye  sacred  Nino 
(For  yo  each  hidden  preparation  know), 
I     Transpierce  tho  gloom,  which  ignorance  and  fraud 
Have  rendered  awful ;  tell  the  laughing  world 
Of  what  these  wonder-working  charms  are  made. 

Fern-root  cut  small,  and  lied  with  many  a  knot ; 
Old  teeth  extracted  from  a  white  man's  skull  ; 
A  lizard's  skeleton  ;  a  serpent's  head  ; 
These,  mixed  with  salt  and  water  from  the  spring, 


Are  in  a  phial  poured  ;  o'er  these  the  leech 
Mutters  strange  jargon,  and  wild  circles  forms. 


AGAINST  DEMONS  AND  THIEVES. 

Of  this  possessed,  each  negro  deems  himself 
Secure  from  poison  ;  for  to  poison  they 
Aro  infamously  prone  :  and,  armed  with  this. 
Their  sable  country  demons  they  defy, 
Wlio  fearful  hnunt  them  at  the  midnight  hour, 
To  work  them  mischief.     This  diseases  fly, 
IJiseases  follow,  such  its  wondrous  power  ! 
This  o'er  the  threshold  of  their  cottage  hung, 
No  thieves  break  in  ;  or,  if  they  dare  to  steal. 
Their  feet  in  blotches,  which  admit  no  euro. 
Burst  loathsome  out :  but  should  its  owner  filch. 
As  slaves  were  ever  of  tho  pilfering  kind, 
This  from  detection  screens  ;  so  conjurers  swear. 


Till  morning  dawn,  and  Lucifer  withdraw 
His  beamy  chariot,  let  not  the  loud  bell 
Call  forth  thy  negroes  from  tho  rushy  couch  : 
And  ore  the  sun  with  mid-day  fervor  glow, 
When  every  broom-bush  opes  her  yclluw  flow 
Let  thy  black  laborers  from  their  tuil  desist  : 
Nor  till  the  broom  her  every  petal  lock, 
Let  the  loud  bell  recall  them  to  the  hoe. 
But  when  the  jalap  her  bright  tint  displays, 
Whon  the  solanuni  fills  her  cup  with  dew, 


With  double  1 


ivard  their  pains. 


KINDNESS  CBGED. 

Howo'cr  insensate  some  may  deem  their  slaves. 
Nor  'bovc  the  bestial  rank,  far  other  thoughts 
The  Muse,  soft  daughter  of  humanity, 
Will  over  entertain.     The  Ethiop  knows, 
Tho  Ethiop  feels,  when  treated  like  a  man  ; 
Nor  grudges,  should  necessity  compel, 
By  day,  by  night,  to  labor  for  his  lord. 

GOOD    FEEDING    RECOMMENDED  ;     BEANS,    RICE,  PLOnB,  COD, 
UERKINGS. 

Not  less  inhuman  than  unthrifty  those 
Who  half  tho  year's  rotation  round  the  sun 
Deny  subsistence  to  their  laboring  slaves. 
But  wouldst  thou  see  thy  negro-train  increase. 
Free  from  disorders,  and  thine  acres  clad 
AVith  groves  of  sugar,  every  week  dispense 
Or  English  beans,  or  Carolinian  rice  ; 
lerne's  beef,  or  Pennsylvanian  flour  ; 
Newfoundland  cod,  or  herrings  from  the  main 
That  howls  tempestuous  round  the  Scotinn  isles. 

Yet  some  there  arc  so  lazily  inclined, 
And  so  neglectful  of  their  food,  that  thou, 
Wouldst  thou  preserve  them  from  the  jaws  of  death, 
Daily  their  wholesome  viands  must  prepare  : 
With  these  let  all  the  young,  and  childless  old, 


RURAL    POETRY,  —  GRAINGER. 


And  all  the  morbid  sbare  ;  —  so  heaven  will  I 
With  manifold  increase,  thy  costly  care. 


Suffice  not  this  ;  to  every  slave  assign 
Some  mountain  ground  ;  or,  if  waste  broken  land 
To  thee  belong,  that  broken  land  divide. 
This  let  them  cultivate,  one  day  each  week  ; 
And  there  raise  yams,  and  there  cassada's  root  : 
From  a  good  demon's  staff  cassada  sprang, 
Tradition  sarp,  and  Caribbees  believe  : 
■\ThIIi  iiifi-  iliirr   ilir  uhite-robed  genius  broke, 
Aii'l  :,  their  hunger  to  repel. 

Tiiri  1  [iMiny  bush  supply, 

Fnr  ni:iiiy  :i  _\  >  (1,  x*.  ith  wholesome  pulse  their  board. 
There  let  the  buuavist  his  fringed  pods 
Throw  liberal  o'er  the  prop  ;   while  ochra  bears 
Aloft  his  slimy  pulp,  and  help  disdains. 
There  let  potatoes  mantle  o'er  the  ground  ; 
Sweet  as  the  cane-juice  is  the  root  they  bear. 
There  too  let  eddas  spring  in  order  meet, 
With  Indian  cale,  and  foodful  calaloo  : 
While  mint,  thyme,  balm,  and  Europe's  coyer  herbs, 
Shoot  gladsome  forth,  nor  reprobate  the  clime. 

This  tract  secure  with  hedges  or  of  limes, 
Or  bushy  citrons,  or  the  shapely  tiee 
That  glows  at  once  with  aromatic  blooms, 
And  golden  fruit  mature.     To  these  be  joined, 
In  comely  neighborhood,  the  cotton  shrub  ; 
In  this  delicious  clime  the  cotton  bursts 
On  rocky  soils.     The  coffee  also  plant ; 
White  as  the  skin  of  Albion's  lovely  fair 
Are  the  thick  snowy  fragrant  blooms  it  boasts  : 
Nor  wilt  thou,  coco,  thy  rich  pods  refuse  ; 
Though  years,  and  heat,  and  moisture,  they  require, 
Ere  the  stone  grind  them  to  the  food  of  health. 
Of  thee,  perhaps,  and  of  thy  various  sorts, 
And  that  kind  ^hrltcrin-'  trrc,  tliy  mother  named. 
With  crimson  l^.^^■M.l^  ],r."li 'Mily  graced. 
In  future  tiini^n  the  .  iiiap[ui.  .1  .Muse  may  sing, 
If  public  favor  crown  her  present  lay. 


But  let  some  ancient,  faithful  slave  erect 
Ili.s  sheltered  mansion  m-Av.  ami  uitli  hi-^  dog, 
His  loaded  gun,  and  entl:i",  -^w-.w]  ilir\\holo: 
Else  negro-fugitives.  \^\\u  -\  ,iil,    nul  i  ■■  i,^ 
And  shrubby  wilds,  in  lianl-  will  -inii  ih'>troy 
Thy  laborer's  honest  wealth,  their  loss  and  yours. 


Bfynii-l  wlial  M.-MMinl  nil  Mr-i  IMutacia's  Islo, 
Or  Ku.-triii  riin,,.-  .i'liiiin  ■!  ill  ilay-^  of  yoro  : 
lluw  Kuiopo..  luudlul,  culin.tiy  plants, 
How  gay  Pomona's  ruby-tinctured  births, 
And  gaudy  Flora's  various-vested  train. 


Might  be  instructed  to  unlearn  their  clime. 

And  by  due  discipline  adopt  the  sun. 

The  Muse  might  tell  what  culture  will  entice 

The  ripened  melon  to  perfume  each  month  ; 

And  with  the  anrfna  load  the  fragrant  board. 

The  Muse  might  tell  what  trees  will  best  exclude 

('  Insuperable  height  of  airiest  shade  *) 

With  their  vast  umbrage  the  noon's  fervent  ray. 


Thee,  verdant   mammey,  first,  her  song  should 

Thee,  the  first  native  of  these  oeean-isles, 
Fell  anthropophagi,  still  sacred  held  ; 
And  from  thy  large  high-flavored  fruit  abstained, 
With  pious  awe  ;   for  thine  high-flavored  fruit 
The  airy  phantoms  of  their  friends  deceased 
Joyed  to  regale  on.     Such  their  simple  creed. 
The  tamarind  likewise  should  adorn  her  theme, 
With  whose  tart  fruit  the  sweltering  fever  loves 
To  quench  his  thirst,  whose  breezy  umbrage  soon 
Shades  the  pleased  planter,  shades  his  children  long. 
Nor,  lofty  cassia,  should  she  not  recount 
Thy  woodland  honors  !     Sec,  what  yellow  flowers 
Dance  in  the  gale,  and  scent  the  ambient  air  : 
While  thy  long  pods,  full  fraught  with  nectared 

Relieve  the  bowels  from  their  lagging  load. 

THE  CHIRUIOIA-TREE  }    THE    PALMETTO  }    THE  INDIAN  FIG  ', 

Nor,  chirimoia,  though  these  torrid  isles 
Boast  not  thy  fruit,  to  which  the  anana  yields 
In  taste  and  flavor,  wilt  thou  coy  refuse 

i  Thy  fragrant  shade  to  beautify  the  scene. 

I  But,  chief  of  palms  and  pride  of  Indian  groves, 

j   Thee,  fair  palmetto,  should  her  song  resound  : 
What  swelling  columns,  formed  by  Jones  or  Wren, 

I  Or  great  Palladio,  may  with  thee  compare  ? 

Swells  the  wild  fig-tree,  and  should  claim  her  lay  : 

For,  from  its  numerous  bearded  twigs  proceed 

A  filial  train,  stupendous  as  their  sire. 

In  quick  succession  ;  and  o'er  many  a  rood. 

Extend  their  uncouth  limbs  ;  which  not  the  bolt 

Of  heaven  can  scathe  ;  nor  yet  the  all-wasting  rage 

Of  typhon  or  of  hurricane  destroy. 

Nor  should,  though  small,  the  anata  not  be  sung  : 

Thy  purple  dye  the  silk  and  cotton  fleece 

Delighted  drink  ;  thy  purple  dye  the  tribes 

Of  Northcrn-Ind,  a  fierce  and  wily  race, 

Carouse,  assembled  ;  and  with  it  they  paint 

Their  manly  make  in  many  a  horrid  form. 

To  add  new  terrors  to  the  face  of  war. 

ALCOVES  }    GARDEU  STREAMS  }    FOUNTAINS. 

The  Muse  might  teach  to  twine  the  verdant  arch. 
And  the  cool  alcove's  lofty  roof  adorn, 
With  ponderous  granadillas,  and  the  fruit 
Called  water-lemon,  grateful  to  the  taste  : 
Nor  should  she  not  pursue  the  mountain-streams, 


WINTER  —  DECEMBER. 


441 


r.ut  picttsod  decoy  them  from  Ihoir  shady  haunts, 

III  rills  to  visit  ovory  troo  and  herb  ; 

Or  full  o'er  lorn-clttd  oliffs  with  fonming  rago  ; 

Or  in  huge  basuna  lloat,  a  fair  expanse  j 

Or,  bound  in  chains  of  artificial  fort;o. 

Arise  through  sculptured  stone,  or  breathing  brass. 

But  I  'ra  in  haste  to  furl  my  wind-worn  sails. 

And  anchor  my  tired  vessel  on  the  shore. 

now  TO  BnLD  SBUBO-IU-TS  ;  TllBin  sniDE  AXD  KRnT-T»l!ES; 
coco,  B.VY.CKArK,  .ISO  MIl.LKT,  KOR  TUB  SKA-SIDK  J  BA.VA- 
SAS  ASD  PLA.NTA1SS  FOR  THII  tll'LAND  i  A  STKUU. 

It  much  imports  to  build  thy  negro-huts 
Or  on  the  sounding  margin  of  the  main, 
Or  on  some  dry  hill's  gently-sloping  sides, 
In  streets  at  distance  due.     When  near  the  beach. 
Let  frequent  coco  cast  its  wavy  shade  ; 
'T  is  Neptune's  tree,  and,  nourished  by  the  spray. 
Soon  round  the  bending  stem's  aerial  height 
Clusters  of  mighty  nuts,  with  milk  and  fruit 
Delicious  fraught,  hang  clustering  in  the  sky. 
There  let  the  bay-grape,  too,  its  crooked  limbs 
Project  enormous  ;  of  impurpled  hue 
Its  frequent  clusters  glow.     And  there,  if  thou 
Wouldst  make  the  sand  yield  salutary  food, 
Let  Indian  millet  rear  its  corny  reed. 
Like  armed  battalions  in  array  of  war. 
But  round  the  upland  huts  bananas  plant  ; 
A  wholesome  nutriment  bananas  yield. 
And  sunburnt  labor  loves  its  breezy  shade. 
Their  graceful  screen  let  kindred  plantains  join. 
And  with  their  broad  vans  shiver  in  the  breeze  ; 
So  flames  designed,  or  by  imprudence  caught, 
Shall  spread  no  ruin  to  the  neighboring  roof. 
Yet  nor  the  sounding  margin  of  the  main. 
Nor  gently  sloping  side  of  breezy  hill. 
Nor  streets,  at  distance  due,  embowered  in  trees. 
Will  half  the  health  or  half  the  pleasure  yield. 
Unless  some  pitying  naiad  deign  to  lave. 
With  an  unceasing  stream,  thy  thirsty  bounds. 


And  somblant  scorn,  resent  the  ravished  bliss. 
But  let  not  thou  the  drum  their  mirth  inspire, 
Nor  vinous  spirits  ;  else,  to  madness  fired 
(What  will  not  bacchanalian  frenzy  dare  ?), 
Fell  acts  of  blood  and  vongcanoo  they  pursue. 

SLAVS   UARRIAGES. 

Compel  by  threats,  or  win  by  soothing  arts, 
Tliy  slaves  to  wed  their  fellow-slaves  at  homo  ; 
So  shall  they  not  their  vigorous  prime  destroy. 
By  distant  journeys  at  untimely  hours. 
When  muffled  midnight  decks  her  raven  hair 
With  the  white  plumage  of  the  prickly  vino. 

SLAVE  CLOTIIISO  ;   WILTSIIIRK  WOOIEMS  ;  SCOTCH  LINES.    • 

Wouldst  thou  from  countless  ails  preserve  thy 
To  every  negro,  as  the  candle-weed  [gi^ug, 

Expands  his  blossoms  to  the  cloudy  sky. 
And  moist  Aquarius  melts  in  daily  showers, 
A  woolly  vestment  give  (this  Wiltshire  weaves), 

I  Warm  to  repel  chill  night's  unwholesome  dews  ; 
While  strong  coarse  linen,  from  the  Scotian  loom, 

!  Wards  off  the  fervors  of  the  burning  day. 


ASD  DANCES  ; 


■  XEORO  DANCE. 


On  festal  days,  or  when  their  work  is  done, 
Permit  thy  slaves  to  lead  the  choral  dance. 
To  the  wild  banshaw's  melancholy  sound. 
Responsive  to  the  sound,  head,  feet,  and  frame. 
Move  awkwardly  harmonious  ;  hand  in  hand 
Now  locked,  the  gay  troop  circularly  wheels, 
And  frisks  and  capers  with  intemperate  joy. 
Halts  the  vast  circle,  all  clap  hands  and  sing. 
While  those  distinguished  for  their  heels  and  air 
Bound  in  the  centre,  and  fontastio  twine. 
Jlcanwhile  some  stripling  from  the  choral  ring 
Trips  forth,  and,  not  ungallantly,  bestows 
On  her  who  nimblest  hath  the  greensward  beat. 
And  whose  flushed  beauties  have  enthralled  his  soul, 
A  silver  token  of  his  fond  applause. 
Anon  they  form  in  ranks  ;  nor  inexpert 
A  thousand  tuneful  intricacies  weave, 
Shaking  their  sable  limbs  ;  and  oft  a  kiss 
Steal  from  their  partners,  who,  with  neck  reclined. 


The  truly  great,  though  from  a  hostile  clime. 
The  sacred  Nino  embalm  ;  then.  Muses,  chant 
In  grateful  numbers  Gallic  Lewis'  praise  ; 
For  private  murder  quelled,  for  laurelled  arts 
Invented,  cherished  in  his  native  realm  ; 
For  rapine  punished,  for  grim  famine  fed  ; 
For  sly  chicane  expelled  the  wrangling  bar. 
And  rightful  Themis  seated  on  her  throne  : 
But,  chief  for  those  mild  laws  his  wisdom  framed, 
To  guard  the  Ethiop  from  tyrannic  sway  ! 

Did   such,   in   these    green   isles  which   Albion 
claims. 
Did  such  obtain,  the  Muse,  at  midnight  hour. 
This  last  brain-racking  study  had  not  plied  ; 
But,  sunk  in  slumbers  of  immortal  bliss, 
To  bards  had  listened  on  a  fancied  Thames  ! 

APOSTROPHE  TO  THE  THAMFS. 

All  hail,  old  father  Thames  !    though  not  from 
far 
Tliy  springing  waters  roll,  nor  countless  streams. 
Of  name  conspicuous,  swell  thy  watery  store  ; 
Though  thou,  no  Plata,  to  the  sea  devolve 
Vast  humid  offerings,  thou  art  king  of  streams  : 
Delighted  commerce  broods  upon  thy  wave. 
And  every  quarter  of  this  sea-girt  globe 
To  thco  due  tribute  pays  ;  but  chief  the  world 
By  great  Columbus  found,  where  now  the  Muso 
Beholds  transported  flow  vast  fleecy  clouds, 
Alps  piled  on  Alps  romantically  high, 
Which  charm  the  sight  with  many  a  pleasing  form. 
The  moon  in  virgin-glory  gilds  the  pole, 
And  tips  yon  tamarinds,  tips  yon  cane-crowned  vale. 
With  fluent  silver,  while  unnumbered  stars 
Gild  the  vast  concave  with  their  lively  beams. 


442 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  GRAINGER  —  TUSSER. 


The  main;  a  moving,  burnished  mirror,  shines  ; 
No  noise  is  heard,  save  when  the  distant  surge 
With  drowsy  murmurings  breaks  upon  the  shore  ! 


Ah  me,  what  thunders  roll !  the  sky 's  on  fire  ! 
Now  sudden  darkness  muffles  up  the  pole  ! 
Heavens  !  what  wild  scenes  before  the  affrighted 

Imperfect  swim  !  —  See  !  in  that  flaming  scroll 
Which  time  unfolds,  the  future  germs  bud  forth 
Of  mighty  empires  !  independent  realms  !  — 
And  must  Britannia,  Neptune's  favorite  queen, 
Protectress  of  true  science,  freedom,  arts, 
Must  she,  ah  !  must  she  to  her  offspring  crouch  ? 


Ah,  must  my  Thames,  old  ocean's  favorite  son. 
Resign  his  trident  to  barbaric  streams,  — 


His  banks  neglected  and  hia  waves  unsought, 
No  bards  to  sing  them  and  no  fleets  to  grace  ?  — 
Again  the  fleecy  clouds  amuse  the  eye, 
And  sparkling  stars  the  vast  horizon  gild,  — 
She  shall  not  crouch,  if  wisdom  guide  the  helui, 
AVisdom  that  bade  loud  fame,  with  justest  praise, 
Record  her  triumphs  ;    bade  the  lackeying  winds 
Transport  to  every  quarter  of  the  globe 
Her  winged  navies,  bade  her  sceptred  sons 
Of  earth  acknowledge  her  preeminence  !  — 
She  shall  not  crouch,  if  these  cane  ocean-isles, 
Isles  which  on  Britain  for  their  all  depend, 
And  must  forever,  still  indulgent,  share 
Her  fostering  smile,  and  other  isles  be  given 
From  vanquished  foes.  —  And  see,  another  race  ! 
A  golden  era  dazzles  my  fond  sight  ! 
That  other  race,  that  longed-for  era,  hail  \ 
The  British  George  now  reigns,  the  patriot  kiug  ! 
Britain  shall  ever  triumph  o'er  the  main. 


Nasser's  "Ilccnnlicr's  iljusbauiiiM) 


Forgottei 
Do  now  1 


When  frost  will  not  suffer  to  iliko  and  to  hedge, 
Then  get  thee  a  heat  with  thy  beetle  and  wedge  ; 
Once  Hallowmas  come,  and  a  fire  in  the  hall, 
Such  slivers  do  well  for  to  lie  by  the  wall. 
Get  grindstone  and  whetstone  for  tool  that  is  dull. 
Or  often  be  letted,  and  fret  belly  full  : 
A  wheel-barrow  also  be  ready  to  have. 
At  hand  of  thy  servant,  thy  compas  to  save. 
Give  cattle  their  fodder  in  plot  dry  and  warm. 
And  count  them  for  mixing,  or  other  like  harm  : 
Toung  colts  with  thy  wennels  together  go  serve. 
Lest  lurched  by  others  they  happen  to  sterve. 
The  rack  is  commended  for  saving  of  dung. 
To  set  as  the  old  cannot  mischief  the  young. 
In  tempest  (the  wind  being  northly  or  east) 
Warm  barth,  under  hedge,  is  a  succor  to  beast. 
The  housing  of  cattle,  while  Winter  doth  hold. 
Is  good  for  all  such  as  are  feeble  and  old  : 
It  saveth  much  compas,  and  many  a  sleep, 
And  spareth  the  pasture  for  walk  of  thy  sheep. 
For  charges  so  little  much  quiet  is  won. 
If  strongly  and  handsomely  all  things  be  done  ; 
But  use  to  untacklo  them  once  in  a  day. 
To  rub  and  to  lick  them,  to  drink  and  to  play. 
Get  Trusty  to  tend  them,  not  lubberly  'Squire, 
That  all  the  day  long  hath  his  nose  at  the  fire  : 
Nor  trust  unto  children  poor  cattle  to  feed, 
But  such  as  be  able  to  help,  at  a  need. 


pease. 
Then  oat-straw  and  barley,  then  hay,  if  ye  please  : 
But  serve  them  with  hay,  while  the  straw-stove 

last, 
Then  love  they  no  straw,  they  had  rather  to  fast.  *  ' 

Good  fruit  and  good  plenty  doth  well  in  the  loft. 
Then  make  thee  an  orchard,  and  cherish  it  oft ; 
For  plant  or  for  stock,  lay  aforehand  to  cast, 
j  But  set  or  remove  it  ere  Christmas  be  past. 
Set  one  fro  another  full  forty  feet  wide  ; 
To  stand  as  he  stood  is  a  part  of  his  pride. 
More  faier,  more  worthy  of  cost  to  remove, 
More  steady  ye  set  it,  more  likely  to  prove. 
To  teach  and  unteach,  in  a  school  is  unmeet ; 
To  do  and  undo,  to  the  purse  is  unsweet : 
Then  orchard  or  hop-yard,  so  trimmed  with  cost. 
Should  not,  through  folly,  be  spoiled  and  lost. 
Ere  Christmas  be  passed  let  horse  be  let  blood. 
For  many  a  purpose  it  doth  them  much  good. 
The  day  of  St.  Stephen  old  fathers  did  use  ; 
If  that  do  mislike  thee,  some  other  day  use. 
Look  well  to  thy  horses  in  stable  thou  must. 
That  hay  be  not  foisty,  nor  chaff  full  of  dust ; 
Nor  stone  in  their  provender,  feather,  nor  clots. 
Nor  feed  with  green  pcason,  for  breeding  of  hots.*' 
Go  look  to  thy  bees  ;  if  the  hive  be  too  light. 
Set  water  and  honey,  with  rosemary  dight ; 
Which  set  in  a  dish  full  of  sticks  in  the  hive, 
From  danger  of  famine  ye  save  them  alive.  *  * 


l^aKaiis  for  Hcfcmbcv 


BLOOJIFIELD'S  "  MARKET-NIGHT." 
'  0  WiNiis,  howl  not  so  long  nnd  loud  ; 

Nor  with  your  vengeance  arm  the  snow  : 
Bear  hence  each  heavy-loaded  cloud, 

And  let  the  twinkling  star-beams  glow. 
'  Now,  sweeping  floods,  rush  down  the  slope, 
Wide  scattering  ruin.     Stars,  shine  soon  ! 
No  other  light  my  love  can  hope  ; 

Midnight  will  want  the  joyous  moon. 
•  0  guardian  Spirits  !  —  yo  that  dwell 

Where  woods,  and  pits,  and  hollow  ways, 
The  lone  night  traveller's  fancy  swell 
With  fearful  tales  of  older  days,  — 
'Press  round  him  -.  —  guide  his  willing  steed 

Through  darkness,  dangers,  currents,  snows  ; 
Wait  where,  from  sheltering  thickets  freed, 
•  The  dreary  heath's  rudo  whirlwind  blows. 
'  From  darkness  rushing  o'er  his  way. 

The  thorn's  white  load  it  bears  on  high  ! 
Where  the  short  furze  all  shrouded  lay, 

Mounts  the  dried  grass  ;  — earth's  bosom  dry. 
•Then  o'er  the  hill,  with  furious  sweep. 

It  rends  the  elevated  tree  — 
Sure-footed  beast,  thy  road  thou  'It  keep  ; 

Nor  storm  nor  darkness  startles  thee  ! 
'0  blest  assurance  (trusty  steed), 

T"  thee  the  buried  road  is  known  ; 
Homo  all  tho  spur  thy  footsteps  need. 

When  loose  tho  frozen  rein  is  thrown. 
'  Between  the  roaring  blasts  that  shako 

Tho  naked  elder  at  tho  door, 
Though  not  one  prattler  to  me  speak. 

Their  sleeping  sighs  delight  me  more. 
'  Sound  is  their  rest  —  they  little  know 

What  pain,  what  cold,  their  father  feds  ; 
But  dream,  perhaps,  they  sec  him  now. 

While  each  the  promised  orange  peels. 
'  Would  it  were  so  !  the  fire  burns  bright. 
And  on  tho  warming  trencher  gleams  ; 
In  expectation's  raptured  sight 

Uow  precious  his  arrival  seems  ! 
<  I  '11  look  abroad  !  —  't  is  piercing  cold  !  — 

Uow  the  bleak  wind  assails  his  breast ! 
Yet  some  faint  light  mine  eyes  behold  : 

The  storm  is  verging  o'er  the  west. 
'  There  shines  a  star  !  —  0  welcome  sight !  — 
Through  tho  thin  vapors  bright'ning  still ! 
Yet,  't  was  beneath  tho  fairest  night 
The  murderer  stained  yon  lonely  hill  ! 


■  Mercy,  kind  Heavon  !  such  thoughts  dispel ! 

No  voici-,  no  footstep,  can  I  hear  ! 
(Where  night  and  silence  brooding  dwell. 

Spreads  thy  cold  reign,  heart-chilling  fear.) 
•  Distressing  hour  !  uncertain  fate  ! 

0  mercy,  mercy,  guide  him  home  !  — 
Hark  !  —  then  I  heard  the  distant  gate,  — 

Repeat  it,  echo  ;  quickly,  come  ! 
'  One  minuto  now  will  ease  my  fears  — 

Or,  still  more  wretched  must  I  be  ? 
No  :  surely  Heaven  has  spared  our  tears  : 

1  see  him,  clothed  in  snow  ;  — 't  is  ho  ! 

•  Where  have  you  stayed  ?  put  down  your  load. 

How  have  you  borne  the  storm,  the  cold  ? 
What  horrors  did  I  not  forebode  — 

That  beast  is  worth  his  weight  in  gold.' 
Thus  spoke  the  joyful  wife  ;  —then  ran 
And  hid  in  grateful  steams  her  head  : 
Dapple  was  housed,  tho  hungry  man 

With  joy  glanced  o'er  the  children's  bed. 
'  What,  all  asleep  !  —  so  best,'  he  cried  : 

'  0,  what  a  night  I  've  travelled  through  ! 
Unseen,  unheard,  I  might  have  died  ; 

But  Heavon  has  brought  me  safe  to  you. 
'  Dear  partner  of  my  nights  and  days, 

That  smile  becomes  thee  !  —let  us  then 
Learn,  though  mishap  may  cross  our  ways. 
It  is  not  ours  to  reckon  when.' 


THE  HAin'Y   FIRESIDE. 
The  hearth  was  clean,  tho  fire  clear, 

The  kettle  on  for  tea  ; 
Palomon,  in  his  elbow-chair, 

As  blessed  os  man  could  be. 

Clarinda,  who  his  heart  possessed. 

And  was  his  new-made  bride. 
With  head  reclined  upon  his  breast. 

Sat  toying  by  his  side. 
Streteh«d  at  his  feet,  in  happy  st«te 

A  favorite  dog  was  laid  ; 
By  whom  a  little  sportive  cat 

In  wanton  humor  played. 
Clarinda's  hand  ho  gently  pressed  ; 

She  stole  an  amorous  kiss. 
And,  blushing,  modestly  confessed 
Tho  fulness  of  her  bliss.     *     * 


igmit  0f  Iriiisf  for  BcrniUifr. 

MILTON'S  "CHRISTMAS  HYMN." 

While  the  Creator  great 

(ABRIDGED.) 

His  constellations  set. 

1.  It  was  the  winter  wild, 

And  the  well-balanced  world  on  hinges  hung, 

Wliile  the  Heaven-born  child 

And  east  the  dark  foundations  deep,         [keep. 

All  meanly  wrapt  in  a  rude  manger  lies  ; 

And  bid  the  weltering  waves  their  oozy  channel 

Nature,  in  awe  to  Him, 

13.  King  out,  ye  crystal  spheres. 

Had  doffed  her  gaudy  trim. 

Once  bless  our  human  ears 

With  her  great  Master  so  to  sympathize  ■ 

(If  ye  have  power  to  touch  our  senses  so). 

It  was  no  season  then  for  her 

And  let  your  silver  chime 

To  wanton  with  the  sun,  her  lusty  paramour.  *  * 

Move  in  melodious  time, 

i.  No  war  or  battle's  sound 

And  let  the  base  of  heaven's  deep  organ  blow. 

Was  heard  the  world  around  : 

And,  with  your  nine-fold  harmony, 

The  idle  spear  and  shiel*were  high  up-hung  ; 

Make  up  full  consort  to  the  angelic  symphony. 

The  hooked  chariot  stood. 

U.  For  if  such  holy  song 

Unstained  with  hostile  blood  ; 

Inwarp  our  fancy  long, 

The  trumpet  spake  not  to  the  armed  throng  ; 

Time  will  run  back,  and  fetch  the  Age  of  Gold, 

And  kings  sat  still,  with  awful  eye,                [by. 

And  speckled  vanity 

As  if  they  surely  knew  their  sorereign  Lord  was 

Will  sicken  soon  and  die, 

5.  But  peaceful  was  the  night 

And  leprous  sin  will  melt  from  earthly  mould, 

Wherein  the  Prince  of  Light 

And  hell  itself  will  pass  away,              [day.  *  * 

His  reign  of  peace  upon  the  earth  began  : 

And  leave  her  dolorous  mansion  to  the  peering 

The  winds,  with  wonder  whist, 

19.  The  oracles  are  dumb, 

Pi 11. h    11)..  u.lrrs  kissed, 

No  voice  or  hideous  hum                        [ceiving. 

V'  :..  ...  -       ..,i..ys  to  the  mild  ocean. 

Runs  through  the  arched  roof  in  words  de- 

A\       .            ,       .,11..  forgot  to  rave, 

Apollo  from  his  shrine 

A\iiil.    Ill  1    .1  ..ilm  sit  on  the  charmed  wave.** 

Can  no  more  divine,                               [leaving. 

8.  The  shi'phcrds  on  the  lawn. 

With   hollow  shriek  the   steep  of   Delphos 

Or  e'er  the  point  of  dawn, 

No  nightly  trance  or  breathed  spell           [cell. 

Sat  simply  chatting  in  a  rustic  row  ; 

Inspires  the  pale-eyed  priest  from  the  prophetic 

Full  little  thought  they  then 

20.  The  lonely  mountains  o'er. 

That  the  mighty  Pan 

And  the  resounding  shore. 

Was  kindly  come  to  live  with  them  below  ; 

A  voice  of  weeping  heard  and  loud  lament ; 

Perhaps  their  loves,  or  else  their  sheep, 

From  haunted  spring  and  dale. 

Was  all  that  did  their  silly  thoughts  so  busy  keep. 

Edged  with  poplar  pale. 

9.  When  such  music  sweet 

The  parting  genius  is  with  sighing  sent ; 

Their  hearts  and  ears  did  greet 

With  flower-inwoven  tresses  torn,           [mourn. 

As  never  was  by  mortal  singer  strook. 

The  nymphs  in  twilight  shade  of  tangled  thickets 

Divinely  warbled  voice. 

21.  In  consecrated  earth. 

Answering  the  stringed  noise. 

And  on  the  holy  hearth,                         [plaint  ; 

As  all  their  souls  in  blissful  rapture  took  : 

The  Lars  and  Lemures  mourn  with  midnight 

The  air,  such  pleasure  loth  to  lose,       [close.  *  * 

In  urns,  and  altars  round, 

With  thousand  echoes  still  prolongs  each  heavenly 

A  drear  and  dying  sound 

11.  At  last  surrounds  their  sight 

Affrights  the  flamens  at  their  service  quaint; 

A  globe  of  circular  light,                        [arrayed. 

And  the  chill  marble  seems  to  sweat    [seat.  *  » 

That  with  long  beams  the  shame-faced  night 

While  each  peculiar  power  foregoes  his  customed 

The  helmed  cherubim. 

27    But  see,  the  Virgin  blest 

And  sworded  seraphim,                             [played. 

Hath  laid  her  Babe  to  rest ;                  [ending  : 

Are  seen  in  glittering  ranks,  with  wings  dis- 

Time  is  our  tedious  song  should  here  have 

Harping,  in  loud  and  solemn  choir,            [Heir. 

Heaven's  youngest  teemed  star 

With  unexpressivo  notes  to  Heaven's  new-born 

Hath  fi.xed  her  polished  car,                  [tending. 

12.  Such  music  as  ('tis  said) 

Her  sleeping  Lord  with  handmaid  lamp  at- 

Before  was  never  made, 

And  all  about  the  courtly  stable 

But  when  of  old  the  Sons  of  Morning  sung, 

Bright  harnessed  angels  sit  in  order  serviceable. 

,  ^ 


AYINTER-JANUAR  V. 


tilooinficlii's   '\t\irnicv's    ^•on 


Ten-lerness  to  cattle.  Frozen  turnips.  The  cow-yard.  Night. 
The  farm-house.  Fireside.  Farmer's  advice  and  instruc- 
tion. Nightly  cares  of  UiestiiWe.  Dobbin.  Tile  post-horse. 
Sheep-stealing  dogs.  Walks  occasioned  thereby.  The 
ghost.    Lamb-time.    Beturuiog  spring.    Conclusion. 

SYMPATHY  W!TU  TDE  LABORER. 

With  kindred  pleasures  moved,  and  cares  opprcst, 
Sharing  nlilio  our  weariness  and  rest  ; 
Who  lives  the  daily  partner  of  our  hours, 
Thro'  every  oliange  of  heat,  and  frost,  and  showers; 
Parlaltcs  our  cheerful  meals,  partalting  first 
In  mutual  labor  and  in  mutual  thirst, 
The  Itindly  intercourse  will  over  prove 
A  bond  of  amity  and  social  love. 

ALS  :  THEIR  DEPENDENCE 


To  more  than  man  this  generous  warmth  extends, 
And  oft  the  team  and  shiv'ring  herd  befriends  ; 
Tender  solicitndo  the  bosom  fills. 
And  pity  executes  what  reason  wills  : 
Youth  learns  compassion's  talc  from  every  tongue, 
And  flies  to  old  the  helpless  and  the  young  ; 


For  though  on  hoary  twigs  no  buds  peep  out, 
And  e'en  tho  hardy  bramble  cease  to  sprout, 
Beneath  dread  Winter's  level  sheets  of  snow 
The  sweet  nutritious  turnip  deigns  to  grow. 
Till  now  imperious  want  and  wide-spread  dearth 
Jiid  labor  claim  her  treasures  from  the  earth. 
On  Giles,  and  such  as  Giles,  tho  labor  falls 
To  strew  tho  frequent  load  where  hunger  calls. 
Ou  driring  gales  sharp  hail  indignant  flies, 
.'Vnd  sleet,  more  irksome  still,  assails  his  eyes  ; 
Snow  clogs  his  feet ;  or,  if  no  snow  is  seen. 
The  field  with  all  its  juicy  store  to  screen, 
Deep  goes  tho  frost,  till  every  root  is  found 
A  rolling  mass  of  ice  upon  the  ground. 
No  tender  ewe  can  break  her  nightly  fast, 
Jfor  heifer  strong  begin  the  cold  repast. 


When  now,  unsparing  as  the  scourge  of  war, 

Blasts  follow  blasts,  and  groves  dismantled  roar,  I 

Around  their  home  tho  storm-pinched  cattle  lows, 

No  nourishment  in  frozen  pastures  grows  j 

Yet  frozen  pastures  every  morn  resound 

With  fair  abundance  thundering  to  tho  ground. 


RURAL  POETRY.  —  BLOOMFIELD. 


Till  Giles  with  pouderous  beetle  foremost  go, 
And  scattering  splinters  fly  at  every  blow  ; 
When  pressing  round  him,  eager  for  the  prize, 
From  their  mixt  breath  warm  exhalations  rise. 


If  now  in  beaded  rows  drops  deck  the  spray, 
While  Phcebus  grants  a  momentary  ray, 
Let  but  a  cloud's  broad  shadow  intervene, 
And  stiffened  into  gems  the  drops  are  seen  ; 
And  down  the  furrowed  oak's  broad  southern  side 
Streams  of  dissolving  rime  no  longer  glide. 


Though  night  approaching  bids  for  rest  prepare, 
Still  the  flail  echoes  through  the  frosty  air. 
Nor  stops  till  deepest  shades  of  darkness  come. 
Sending  at  length  the  weary  laborer  home. 
From  him,  with  bed  and  nightly  food  supplied. 
Throughout  the  yard,  housed  round  on  every  side. 
Deep-plunging  cows  their  rustling  feast  enjoy, 
And  snatch  sweet  mouthfuls  from  the  passing  boy, 
Who  moves  unseen  beneath  his  trailing  load, 
Fills  the  tall  racks,  and  leaves  a  scattered  road  ; 
Where  oft  the  swine  from  ambush  warm  and  dry 
Bolt  out,  and  scamper  headlong  to  their  sty, 
When  Giles,  with  well-known  voice,  already  there, 
Deigns  them  a  portion  of  his  evening  care. 

THE   farmer's   fire  ;     GILES  BRINGING  IN  WOOD  ;     THE   FIRE- 
PLACE, cmMNEY,  LOFT  J  RUDE  PLENTY  OF  THE  KITCHEN. 

Him  tho'  the  cold  may  pierce,  and  storms  molest. 
Succeeding  hours  shall  cheer  with  warmth  and  rest; 
Gladness  to  spread,  and  raise  the  grateful  smile. 
Ho  hurls  the  fagot  bursting  from  the  pile, 
And  many  a  log,  and  rifted  trunk,  conveys 
To  heap  the  fire,  and  to  extend  the  blaze. 
That  quivering  strong  through  every  opening  flies, 
"While  smoky  columns  unobstructed  rise. 
For  the  rude  architect,  .unknown  to  fame 
(Nor  symmetry  nor  elegance  his  aim), 
Who  spreads  his  floors  of  solid  oak  on  high, 
On  beams  rough-hewn,  from  age  to  age  that  lie. 
Bade  his  wide  fabric  unimpaired  sustain 
Pomona's  store,  and  cheese,  and  golden  grain  ; 
Bade  from  its  central  base,  capacious  laid. 
The  well-wrought  chimney  rear  its  lofty  head  ; 
Where  since  hath  many  a  savory  ham  been  stored, 
And  tempests  howled,  and  Christmas  gambols  roared. 


Flat  on  the  hearth  the  glowing  embers  lie, 
And  flames  reflected  dance  in  every  eye  : 
There  the  long  billet,  forced  at  last  to  bend. 
While  frothing  sap  gushes  at  either  end,       [smiles. 
Throws  round  its  welcome  heat :  —  tho  ploughman 
And  oft  the  joke  runs  hard  on  sheepish  Giles, 
Who  sits  joint  tenant  of  the  corner-stool, 
The  converse  sharing,  though  in  duty's  school  ; 
For  now  attentively  't  is  his  to  hoar 
Interrogations  from  the  master's  chair. 


'  Left  ye  your  bleating  charge,  when  daylight  fled. 
Near  where  the  hay-stack  lifts  its  snowy  head  ? 
Whose  fence  of  bushy  furze,  so  close  and  warm. 
May  stop  the  slanting  bullets  of  the  storm. 
For,  hark  !  it  blows  ;   a  dark  and  dismal  night ! 
Heaven  guide  the  traveller's  fearful  steps  aright ! 
Now  from  the  worid.-    nut)  u^iiul  ,,,m1  sharp-eyed. 
The  fox  in  silent  .I;,i:  ■  ..  i  ,    i  ,  ;:liae, 

Stealing  around  11- ,  |i  i i    i,.   ::ucs, 

If  chance  the  cock  <'i  -i n.  tin--  mckerel  crows, 

Or  goose,  or  nodding  duck,  should  darkling  cry, 
As  if  apprised  of  lurking  danger  nigh  : 
Destruction  waits  them,  Giles,  if  e'er  you  fail 
To  bolt  their  doors  against  the  driving  gale. 
Strewed  you  (still  mindful  of  the  unsheltered  bead) 
Burdens  of  straw  — the  cattle's  welcome  bed  ? 
Thine  heart  should  feel,  what  thou  may'st  hourly  see, 
That  duty's  basis  is  humanity  : 
Of  pain's  unsavory  cup  though  thou  may'st  taste 
(The  wrath  of  Winter  from  the  bleak  north-east), 
Thine  utmost  sufferings  in  the  coldest  day 
A  period  terminates,  and  joys  repay.' 


'Perhaps   e'en   now,  while   hero   those  joys   we 

Full  many  a  bark  rides  down  the  neighboring  coast. 
Where  the  high  northern  waves  tremendous  roar, 
Drove  down  by  blasts  from  Norway's  icy  shore. 
The  sea-boy  there,  less  fortunate  than  thou, 
Feels  all  thy  pains  in  all  tho  gusts  that  blow  ; 
His  freezing  hands  now  drenched,  now  dry,  by  turns ; 
Now  lost,  now  seen,  the  distant  light  that  burns 
On  some  tall  cliff  upraised,  a  flaming  guide. 
That  throws  its  friendly  radiance  o'er  the  tide. 
His  labors  cease  not  with  declining  day. 
But  toils  and  perils  mark  his  watery  way  ; 
And  whilst  in  peaceful  dreams  secure  we  lie, 
The  ruthless  whirlwinds  rage  along  the  sky. 
Round  his  head  whistling  !  —  and  shalt  thou  repine. 
While  this  protecting  roof  still  shelters  thine  ?  ' 

THE  FARMER'S  INSTRDCTrVE  CONVERSATIOS  WELL    RECEIVED  } 
DROWSINESS. 

Mild,  as  the  vernal  shower,  his  words  prevail. 
And  aid  the  moral  precept  of  his  tale  : 
His  wondering  hearers  learn,  and  ever  keep 
These  first  ideas  of  the  restless  deep  ; 
And,  as  the  opening  mind  a  circuit  tries, 
Present  felicities  in  value  rise. 
Increasing  pleasures  every  hour  they  find. 
The  warmth  more  precious,  and  tho  shelter  kind  ; 
Warmth  that  long  reigning  bids  the  eyelids  close, 
As  through  the  blood  its  balmy  influence  goes. 
When  tho  cheered  heart  forgets  fatigues  and  cares. 
And  drowsiness  alone  dominion  bears. 


WINTER  —  JANUARY. 


447 


Sweet  then  the  ploughman  slumbers,  halo  and 
When  the  lost  topic  dies  upon  his  tongue  ;   [young, 
Swoot  then  the  bliss  his  transient  dreams  inspire, 
Till  chillblains  wake  him,  or  the  snapping  fire. 

Ho  starts,  and,  ever  thoughtful  of  his  team. 
Along  tho  glittering  snow  a  foeblo  gleam 
Shoots  from  his  lantern,  as  ho  yawning  goes 
To  add  fresh  eomforts  to  their  night's  roposo  ; 
Diffusing  fragrance  as  thoir  food  ho  moves, 
And  pats  tho  jolly  sides  of  those  ho  loves. 
Thus  full  replenished,  perfect  ease  posscst. 
From  night  till  morn  alternate  food  and  rest, 
No  rightful  cheer  withheld,  no  sleep  debarred. 
Their  each  day's  labor  brings  its  sure  reward. 
Yet  when,  from  plough  or  lumbering  cart  set  free. 
They  taste  a  while  the  sweets  of  liberty, 
E'en  sober  Dobbin  lifts  his  clumsy  heels. 
And  kicks,  disdainful  of  the  dirty  wheels  : 
But  soun,  his  frolic  ended,  yields  again 
To  trudge  tho  road,  and  wear  tho  clinking  chain. 


Short-sighted  Dobbin  !  —  thou  canst  only  see 
The  trivial  hardships  that  encompass  thee  : 
Thy  chains  were  freedom,  and  thy  toils  repose, 
I'ould  tho  poor  post-horse  tell  thco  all  his  woes  ; 
Show  thee  his  bleeding  shoulders,  and  unfold 
Tho  dreadful  anguish  ho  endures  for  gold  : 
Hired  at  each  call  of  business,  lust,  or  rage. 
That  prompt  the  traveller  on  from  stage  to  stage. 
Still  on  his  strength  depends  their  boasted  speed  ; 
For  them  his  limbs  grow  weak,  his  bare  ribs  bleed; 
And  though  ho  groaning  quickens  at  command. 
Their  e.ttra  shilling  in  the  rider's  hand 
Becomes  his  bitter  scourge  :  —  'tis  he  must  feel 
The  double  efforts  of  the  lash  and  steel ; 
Till  when,  up  hill,  the  destined  inn  he  gains. 
And  trembling  under  complicated  pains. 
Prone  from  his  nostrils,  darting  on  the  ground. 
His  breath  emitted,  floats  in  clouds  around  ; 
Drops  chase  each  other  down  his  chest  and  sides. 
And  spattered  mud  his  native  color  hides  ; 
Through  his  swoln  veins  the  boiling  current  flows. 
And  every  nerve  a  separate  torture  knows. 
His  harness  loosed,  he  welcomes  eager-eyed 
Tho  pail's  full  draught  that  quivers  by  his  side  ; 
.\nd  joys  to  see  the  well-known  stable-door. 
As  tho  starved  mariner  tho  friendly  shore. 


CRUEL  LADOB  OF  THB  POST-HORSE,  V 

Ah,  well  for  him,  if  bore  his  sufferings  ceased, 
And  ample  hours  of  rest  his  pains  appeased  ! 
But,  roused  again,  and  sternly  bade  to  rise. 
And  shako  refreshing  slumber  from  his  eyes. 
Ere  bis  exhausted  spirits  can  return, 
Or  through  his  frame  reviving  ardor  burn, 
Come  forth  ho  must,  tho'  limping,  maimed,  and  sore; 
He  hears  the  whip  ;   the  chaise  is  at  tho  door  ;  — 
The  collar  tightens,  and  again  he  fools 


His  half-healed  wounds  inflamed  ;  again  tho  wheels 
With  tiresome  sameness  in  his  cars  resound. 
O'er  blinding  dust,  or  miles  of  flinty  ground. 
Thus  nightly  robbed,  and  injured  day  by  day, 
His  piecemeal  murderers  wear  his  life  away. 

PATIKSCB;     BILOOT     OF     DOBDIS,    ms     LIFK    A.SD     DBATH ; 


What  say's!  thou,  Dobbin?  what  tho'  hounds  await 
With  open  jaws  tho  moment  of  thy  fate  ? 
No  better  fato  attends  his  public  race  ; 
His  life  is  misery,  and  his  end  disgrace  ! 
Then  freoly  boar  thy  burden  to  the  mill  : 
Obey  but  one  short  law,  — thy  driver's  will. 
Affection,  to  thy  mcm'ry  ever  true. 
Shall  boast  of  mighty  loads  that  Dobbin  drew. 
And  back  to  childhood  shall  tho  mind,  with  pride, 
Recount  thy  gentleness  in  many  a  rido 
To  pond,  or  field,  or  village  fair,  when  thou 
Held'st  high  thy  braided  mane  and  comely  brow  ; 
And  oft  the  tale  shall  rise  to  homely  fame 
Upon  thy  generous  spirit  and  thy  name. 


Though  faithful  to  a  proverb,  wo  regard 
The  midiiii^Iit  chieftiiin  of  the  farmer's  yard, 
Bciiratli  \ilin.r  - iKi p  1  iiuiship  ttll  hottrls  rejoice, 

W.il.r  1,1  il I I  Ilia  hollow  voice  ; 

Vil  ;i    I  I'    Il    III  I  iNi.v  ftiltering  quit  tho  pack, 
Suuli  Uic  I'tiit  ^c-jni,  aud  hasten  yelping  back  ; 
And  e'en  tho  docile  pointer  know  disgrace. 
Thwarting  the  general  instinct  of  his  race  ; 
E'en  so  the  mastiff,  or  tho  meaner  cur, 
At  times,  will  from  tho  path  of  duty  err 
(A  pattern  of  fidelity  by  day  ; 
By  night  a  murderer,  lurking  for  his  prey). 
And  round  tho  pastures  or  the  fold  will  creep. 
And,  coward-like,  attack  tho  peaceful  sheep  ; 
Alone  tho  wanton  mischief  he  pursues. 
Alone  in  rooking  blood  his  jaws  imbrues  ; 
Chasing  amain  his  frightened  victims  round. 
Till  death  in  wild  confusion  strews  tho  ground  ; 
Then,  wearied  out,  to  kennel  sneaks  away, 
And  licks  his  guilty  paws  till  break  of  day. 

Tho  dead  discovered,  and  tho  news  once  spread, 
Vongeonco  hangs  o'er  the  unknown  culprit's  head  ; 
And  careful  shepherds  extra  hours  bestow 
In  patient  watchings  for  the  common  foe  ; 
A  foe  most  dreaded  now,  when  rest  and  peace 
Should  wait  the  season  of  tho  flock's  increase. 


In  part  these  nightly  terrors  to  dispel, 
Oiles,  ere  ho  sloops,  his  little  flock  must  tell. 
From  tho  fireside  with  many  a  shrug  he  hies. 
Glad  if  the  full-orbed  moon  salute  his  eyes. 
And  through  tho  unbroken  stillness  of  tho  night 
Shed  on  his  path  her  beams  of  cheering  light. 
With  sauntering  st?p  he  climbs  tho  distant  stile, 
Whilst  all  around  him  wears  a  placid  smilo  ; 


There  Tiews  the  white-robed  clouds  in  clusters  driven, 
And  all  the  glorious  pageantry  of  heaven. 
Low,  on  the  utmost  bouudavy  of  the  sight, 
The  rising  vapors  catch  the  silver  light  ; 
Thciii-i-.  fancy  measures,  as  they  parting  fly, 
Wlii'li  111 -I  "ill  tliinw  its  shadow  on  the  eye, 

P;,..i,,     ill,    .,,n;, Might;  and  thence  away, 

t^uri  1  i  i,  I    .ui-l,  i>>  I iiighter  still  than  they. 
For  v-t  ji'v\  I   till  ■!■  niifted  clouds  are  seen, 
In  a  remoter  sky,  still  more  serene. 
Others,  detached  in  ranges  through  the  air, 
Spotless  as  snow,  and  countless  as  they  're  fair  ; 
Scattered  immensely  wide  from  east  to  west. 
The  beauteous  semblance  of  a  flock  at  rest. 
These,  to  the  raptured  mind,  aloud  proclaim 
Their  mighty  Shepherd's  everlasting  name. 

UEDrrATIOSS  5    DUTY.  —  THE  GHOST.  —  FRIGHT. 

Whilst  thus  the  loiterer's  utmost  stretch  of  soul 
Climbs  the  still  clouds,  or  passes  those  that  roll, 
And  loosed  imagination  soaring  goes 
High  o'er  his  home,  and  all  his  little  woes, 
Time  glides  away  ;   ncglcctcil  duty  calls  ! 
At  once  from  pluiii-  "1  li-lii  i  i  earth  he  falls, 
Anddowna  ii:i;         i  I  Luown  by  day. 

With  all  his  ■,       i  :   '      i  ->  u.iding  way, 

In  thought  btillL.ili  .iL-iIjlI, and  chilled  with  cold; 
When,  lo  !  an  object  frightful  to  behold  ; 
A  grisly  spectre,  clothed  in  silver-gray. 
Around  whoso  feet  the  waving  shadows  play. 
Stands  in  his  path  !  —  lie  stops,  and  not  a  breath 
Heaves  from  his  heart,  that  sinks  almost  to  death. 


Loud  the  owl  halloos  o'er  his  head  unseen  ; 
All  else  is  silent,  dismally  serene  : 
Some  prompt  ejaculation,  whispered  low. 
Yet  bears  him  up  against  the  threatening  foe  ; 
And  thus  poor  Giles,  though  half  inclined  to  fly. 
Mutters  his  doubts,  and  strains  his  steadfast  eye. 
'  'T  is  not  my  crimes  thou  oom'st  here  to  reprove  ; 
No  murders  stain  my  soul,  no  perjured  love  : 
If  thou  'rt  indeed  what  here  thou  seem'st  to  be, 
Thy  dreadful  mission  cniinnt  reach  to  me. 

By  parents  taught  still  t ^tiii-l  niiin;  ivr-. 

Still  to  approach  each  .ilij..'!  i.l  .^lu  |ii  i-r. 

Lest  fancy's  formful  visinns  should  ilccei\o 

In  moonlight  paths,  or  glooms  of  falling  eve, 

This  then  's  the  moment  when  my  heart  should  try 

To  scan  thy  motionless  deformity  ; 

But,  0  !  the  fearful  task  !  yet  well  I  know 

An  aged  ash,  with  many  a  spreading  hough 

(Beneath  whose  leaves  I  'vo  found  aSummor's  bower, 

Beneath    whose   trunk    I  've   weathered    many   a 

Stands  singly  down  this  solitary  way,         [shower). 

But  far  beyond  where  now  my  footsteps  stay. 

'T  is  true,  thus  far  I  *vo  come  with  heedless  haste  ; 

No  reckoning  kept,  no  passing  objects  traced  :  — 

And  can  I,  then,  have  reached  that  very  tree  ! 

Or  is  its  reverend  form  assumed  by  thee  ? ' 


The  happy  thought  alleviates  his  pain  : 
Ho  creeps  another  stop,  then  stops  again  : 
Till  slowly,  as  his  noiseless  feet  draw  near, 
Its  perfect  lineaments  at  once  appear  ; 
Its  crown  of  shiv'ring  ivy  whispering  peace, 
And  its  white  bark  that  fronts  the  moon's  pale  face. 
Now,  whilst  his  blood  mounts  upward,  now  he  knows 
The  solid  gain  that  from  conviction  flows  ; 
And  strengthened  confidence  shall  hence  fulfil 
(With  conscious  innocence  more  valued  still) 
The  dreariest  task  that  wiiitcr  niglits  can  bring, 
|;,v  rliureli-yar.l  ilailv,  ur  ■^rn^.■.  <„■  laiiy  ring  ; 
.Nill  liunvi,,,-  i,|,  the  Hiiihl  mind  i.f  youth, 
Till  liiil'rin-  rea^mi  Imi-ls  the  siaile  of  truth. 
With  these  blest  guardians  liiles  his  course  pursues. 
Till,  numbering  his  heavy-sided  ewes. 
Surrounding  stillness  tranquillize  his  breast. 
And  shape  the  dreams  that  wait  his  hours  of  rest. 


As  when  retreating  tempests  we  behold. 
Whose  skirts  at  length  the  azure  sky  unfold. 
And,  full  of  murmurings  and  mingled  wrath, 
Slowly  unshroud  the  smiling  face  of  earth. 
Bringing  the  bosom  joy  :  so  Winter  flies  ! 
And  sec  the  source  of  life  and  light  uprise  ! 
A  heightening  arch  o'er  southern  hills  he  bends  ; 
Warm  on  the  cheek  the  slanting  beam  descends, 
And  gives  the  reeking  mead  a  brighter  hue, 
And  draws  the  modest  primrose  bud  to  view. 

MOTHERS. 

Yet  frosts  succeed,  and  winds  impetuous  rusli, 
And  hail-fliinii-  ratlle  ihnm-li  the  budding  bush  ; 
Andni-ht-tiilleii  lamK-  ii'.|iiu.'  Ilie -liepherd's  care, 
Andtccmie- eMi  -,  thai  -iill  I  lin,  l.mdens  bear  ; 
Beneath  nh.-e  Mde,  t"-m"ir-»V  dawn  may  see 
The  milk-white  strangers  bow  the  trembling  knee  ; 
At  whose  first  birth  the  powerful  instinct 's  seen 
That  fills  with  champions  the  daisied  green  : 

I'.ir  .wes  Halt  st 1  ale. if  with  fearful  eye, 

W  III,  -tim|aii^  t'M.i,  u>'\\  men  and  dogs  defy. 

All  1,  mIi-Iiii  ii'  1\   la  I  til  till  til  their  young, 

Guard  their  hrjt  ateps  to  join  the  bleating  throng. 

HOW  TO   ASSCAGE    THE    GRIEF 


But  casualties  and  death  from  damps  and  cold 
Will  still  attend  the  well-conducted  fold  : 
Her  tender  ofi'spring  dead,  the  dam  aloud 
Calls,  and  runs  wild,  amidst  tho  unconscious  crowd  : 
And  orphaned  sueklin-is  nuM;  the  piteous  cry  ; 
No  wool  to  warm  tin  in,  le,  drlrmlrrs  nigh. 
And  must  her  streaming  milk  ihen  llnwinvain? 
Must  unregarded  inuoeenee  cumidaia? 
No  ;  — ere  this  strong  solicitude  subside. 
Maternal  fondness  may  be  fresh  applied. 


WINTER  —  JANUARY. 


449 


And  tho  adopted  stripling  still  may  find 

A  parent  most  assiduously  kind. 

For  this  bo  'a  doomed  a  while  disguised  to  range 

(For  fraud  or  force  must  work  tho  wishcd-forchimgo), 

For  this  his  prodcoossor's  skin  ho  wears, 

Till  cheated  into  tenderness  and  cares, 

Tho  unsuspecting  dam,  contented  grown, 

Cherish  and  guard  the  fondling  as  her  own. 


Tns  WELL-TKNDED   FLOCK.' 

Thus  all  by  turns  to  fair  perfection  rise  ; 
Thus  twins  arc  partod  tn  incrcaso  their  size  : 
Thus  ill  i'  ,      >  ■.  ■  I     I    Mii.  ir-i  |n,;iiii  the  way. 
Till  III  ■  I      ,  i.Ty  day. 

Oil  sun  Mil,'  flowers 


Tho  huiubkT  -li 
The  approved  ci'm 
And,  iuhissmiill 
Adjusts  tlio  pruiti 
For  boys  with  uim 
And  boiv.st  their  \k 
Of  well-grown  hiin 
And  field  to  field  i 


beholds 


iillhfiil  sho 
Spring, 


TniOMPIlAST  JOY  or  OILBS    *8    OB    HSABS    mS    FLOCK    COl 
UISDBO  ST  PASSBB8  HT. 

E'en  Giles,  for  all  his  cares  and  watohings  past. 
And  all  his  contests  with  tho  wintry  blast, 
Claims  a  full  share  of  that  sweet  praise  bestowed 
By  gazing  neighbors,  when  along  the  road. 
Or  village  green,  his  curly-coated  throng 
Suspends  tho  chorus  of  tho  spinner's  song  ; 
AVhen  admiration's  unaffected  grace 
Lisps  from  tho  tongue,  and  beams  in  every  face  : 
Delightful  moments  !  — sunshine,  health,  and  joy, 
Play  round  and  ehcer  the  elevated  boy  ! 

RAISB,  AND   PRAYER,  OP  THE  PARMKR'S   BOK 


'  Another  Spring  ! '  his  heart  exulting  cries  ; 
'  Another  year  !  with  promised  blessings  rise  ! 
Eternal  Power  !  from  whom  these  blessings  flow 
Teach  me  still  more  to  wonder,  more  to  know  : 
Seed-time  and  harvest  let  me  see  again  ; 
Wander  the  leaf-strewn  wood,  the  frozen  plain  : 
Let  the  first  flower,  corn-waving  field,  plain,  trei 
Ikic  round  my  home,  still  lift  my  soul  to  Thoo  j 
And  let  luc,  ever,  midst  thy  bounties,  raise 
An  humble  note  of  thankfulness  and  praise  '. ' 


ihwsstx's  "iianuarn's  Ijnsbaniivi). 


Forgott<?n  montli  jiast, 
Do  now  at  llie  last. 
When  Christmas  is  ended  bid  feasting  adieu, 
Go  play  the  good  husband  thy  stock  to  renew. 
Be  mindful  of  rearing,  in  hope  of  a  gain 
Dame  profit  shall  give  thee  reward  for  thy  pain. 
Who  both  by  his  calf  and  his  Iamb  will  be  known, 
May  well  kill  a  neat  apd  a  sheep  of  his  own  ; 
And  he  that  can  rear  up  a  pig  in  his  house. 
Hath  cheaper  his  bacon,  and  sweeter  his  souse. 
Who  eateth  his  veal,  pig  ami  I  iiiil.,  1"  inj  Imlli,' 
Shall,  twice  in  a  week,  go  ti  1     I  >.  i  i    u     i    tli  : 
Unskilful  that  pass  not,  but  -  ;i  ,i  ■  i  , ,      II 
Shall  never  have  plenty  whcitur  Ihuj  dwLll. 
Be  greedy  in  spending  and  careless  to  save, 
And  shortly  be  needy,  and  ready  to  crave  ; 
Bo  wilful  to  kill,  and  unskilful  to  store. 
And  look  for  no  foison,  I  tell  thee  before.  »  * 
Leave  killing  of  coney,  let  doe  go  to  buck. 
And  vcrmine  thy  borough,  for  fear  of  ill-luck. 
Feed  dove  (no  more  killing),  old  dove-house  repair, 
Save  dove-dung  for  hop-yard,  when  house  yo  make 


fair.  *  * 

From  Christma.s  1 
Some  caltlo  wax 
And  chiefly  whui 
Then  most  is  the 


11  .Mn 


ntered  in, 

r-t  doth  appear 
whole  year. 


1  It  is  8 


Broth  was  formerly  the  suppcr-disb  in  farm- 


Tn  ridding  of  pasture,  with  turfs  that  lie  by. 
Fill  every  hole  up  as  close  as  a  die  : 
The  labor  is  little,  the  profit  is  gay. 
Whatever  the  loitering  laborers  Say. 
The  sticks  and  tho  stones  go  gather  up  clean. 
For  hurting  of  scythe  or  for  harming  of  green. 
For  fear  of  Hugh  Prowler  get  home  with  the  rest  ; 
When  frost  is  at  hardest  then  carriage  is  best. 
Young  broom,  or  good  pasture,  thy  owes  do  require. 
Warm  barth,^  and  in  safety,  their  lambs  do  desire  : 
Look  often  well  to  them,  for  foxes  and  dogs, 
For  pits,  and  for  brambles,  for  vermin,  and  hogs. 
^Jore  dainty  the  lamb,  the  more  worth  to  bo  sold, 
The  sooner  the  better,  for  ewe  that  is  old  ; 
But  if  ye  do  mind  to  have  milk  of  the  dame, 
Till  May  do  not  sever  tho  lamb  from  the  same. 
Ewes  yearly  by  twinning  rich  masters  do  make  ; 
Tho  lamb  of  such  twinnersfor  breeders  go  take.  •  • 
Calves  likely  that  come  between  Christmas  and  Lent 
Take  huswife  to  rear,'  or  else  after  repent.  •  • 
The  senior  weaned,  his  younger  shall  teach 
Both  how  to  drink  water  and  hay  for  to  reach  : 
^lore  stroken  and  mado  of,  when  aught  it  doth  ail. 
More  gentle  ye  make  it,  for  yoke  or  tho  pail.  *  • 

1  Juice  of  crali-applcs.  =  Ucrlh  ;  lair,  place  to  lie  hi. 

'■>  Early  calves  make  the  strongest  slock,  if  well  attcmlcd  to. 


|l;istoral  for  lanuai'L). 


VIRGIL'S   "MELIBCEUS." 
Beneath  a  holm,  repaired  two  jolly  swains  ; 
Their  sheep  and  goats  together  grazed  the  plains  : 
Both  young  Arcadians,  both  alike  inspired 
To  sing,  and  answer  as  the  song  required. 
Daphnis,  as  umpire,  took  the  middle  seat  ; 
And  fortune  thither  led  my  weary  feet. 
For  while  I  fenced  my  myrtles  from  the  cold, 
The  father  of  my  flock  had  wandered  from  the  fold. 
Of  Daphnis  I  inquired  ;  he,  smiling,  said, 
Dismiss  your  fear,  and  pointed  where  he  fed. 
And,  if  no  greater  cares  disturb  your  mind, 
Sit  here  with  us,  in  covert  of  the  wind. 
Your  lowing, heifers,  of  their  own  accord. 
At  watering  time  will  seek  the  neighboring  ford. 
Here  wanton  Mincius  winds  along  the  meads, 
And  shades  his  happy  banks  with  bending  reeds  : 
And  see  from  yon  old  oak,  that  mates  the  skies. 
How  black  the  clouds  of  swarming  bees  arise. 
What  should  I  do  !  nor  was  Alcippe  nigh, 
Nor  absent  Phyllis  could  my  care  sui>ply  ; 
To  house,  and  feed  by  hand  my  weaning  lambs. 
And  drain  the  strutting  udders  of  their  dams  ? 
Great  was  the  strife  betwixt  the  singing  swains  : 
And  I  preferred  my  pleasure  to  my  gains. 
Alternate  rhyme  the  ready  champions  chose  ; 
These  Corydon  rehearsed,  and  Thyrsis  those. 
CoRYDON.      Ye  Muses,  ever  fair,  and  ever  young, 
Assist  my  numbers,  and  inspire  my  song. 
With  all  my  Codrus,  0,  inspire  my  breast ! 
For  Codrus,  after  Phoebus,  sings  the  best. 
Or,  if  my  wishes  have  presumed  too  high. 
And  stretched  their  bounds  beyond  mortality. 
The  praise  of  artful  numbers  I  resign, 
And  hang  my  pipe  upon  the  sacred  pine. 
Thyrsis.     Arcadian  swains,  your  youthful  poetcrown 
With  ivy  wreaths  ;  though  surly  Codrus  frown. 
Or  if  he  blast  my  Muse  with  envious  praise. 
Then  fence  my  brows  with  amulets  of  bays  ; 
Lest  his  ill  arts,  or  his  malicious  tongue, 
Should  poison,  or  bewitch,  my  growing  song. 
C.  These  branches  of  a  stag,  this  tusky  boar 
(The  first  essay  of  arms  untried  before), 
Y'oung  Mycon  offers,  Delia,  to  thy  shrine  ; 
But  speed  his  hunting  with  thy  power  divine. 
Thy  statue  then  of  Parian  stone  shall  stand  ; 
Thy  legs  in  buskins  with  a  purple  band. 
T.  This  bowl  of  milk,  these  cakes  (our  country  fare), 
For  thee,  Priapus,  yearly  we  prepare. 
Because  a  little  garden  is  thy  care. 
But  if  the  falling  lambs  increase  my  fold, 
Thy  marble  statue  shall  be  turned  to  gold. 


C.  Fair  Galatea,  with  thy  silver  feet, 
0,  whiter  than  the  swan,  and  more  than  Hybla  sweet ! 
Tall  as  a  poplar,  taper  as  the  bole. 
Come,  charm  thy  shepherd,  and  restore  my  soul. 
Come,  when  my  lated  sheep  at  night  return  ; 
And  crown  the  silent  hours,  and  stop  the  rosy  morn. 
T.  May  I  become  as  abject  in  thy  sight 
As  sea-weed  on  the  shore,  and  black  as  night  ; 
Rough  as  a  bur,  deformed  like  him  who  chaws 
Sardinian  herbage  to  contract  his  jaws  ; 
Such  and  so  monstrous  let  thy  swain  appear. 
If  one  day's  absence  looks  not  like  a  year. 
Hence  from  the  field  for  shame  :  the  flock  deserves 
No  better  feeding  while  the  shepherd  starves. 
C.  Ye  mossy  springs,  inviting  ciisy  sleep,        [keep. 
Ye  trees,  whose  leafy  shades  those  mossy  fountains 
Defend  my  flock  ;  the  summer  heats  are  near. 
And  blossoms  on  the  swelling  vines  appear. 
T.  With  heapy  fires  our  cheerful  hearth  is  crowned  ; 
And  firs  for  torches  in  the  woods  abound  : 
We  fear  not  more  the  winds  and  wintry  cold. 
Than  streams  the  banks,  or  wolves  the  bleating  fold. 
C.  Our  woods,  with  juniper  and  chestnuts  crowned, 
With  falling  fruits  and  berries  paint  the  ground  ; 
And  lavish  nature   laughs,  and  strews  her  stores 
But  if  Alexis  from  our  mountains  fly,  [around. 

Even  running  rivers. leave  their  channels  dry. 
T.  Parched  are  the  plains,  and  frying  is  the  field. 
Nor  withering  vines  their  juicy  vintage  yield. 
But  if  returning  Phyllis  bless  the  plain. 
The  grass  revives  ;   the  woods  are  green  again  ; 
And  Jove  descends  in  showers  of  kindly  rain. 
C.  The  poplar  is  by  great  Alcides  worn  ; 
The  brows  of  Phoebus  his  own  bays  adorn  ; 
The  branching  vine  the  jolly  Bacchus  loves  ; 
The  Cyprian  queen  delights  in  myrtle  groves. 
With  hazel  Phyllis  crowns  her  flowing  hair  ; 
And  while  she  loves  that  common  wreath  to  wear. 
Nor  bays,  nor  myrtle  boughs,  with  hazel  shall  com- 
pare. 
T.  The  towering  ash  is  fairest  in  the  woods  ; 
In  gardens  pines,  and  poplars  by  the  floods  : 
But  if  my  Lycidas  will  ease  my  pains. 
And  often  visit  our  forsaken  plains. 
To  him  the  towering  ash  shall  yield  in  woods  ; 
In  gardens  pines,  and  poplars  by  the  floods. 
Melib(EDS.    These  rhymes  I  did  to  memory  com- 

When  vanquished  Thyrsis  did  in  vain  contend  ; 
Since  when,  't  is  Corydon  among  the  swains, 
Young  Corydon  without  a  rival  reigns. 


^nustroiurs    "Ivt   of    V)f;i 


SIBJECT  ;  THE  ISfLCKSCK  OF  MORil.  CArSRS  OS  HEALTH. 

The  choice  of  aliment,  the  choice  of  air, 
The  use  of  toil  and  all  external  things. 
Already  sung  ;  it  now  remains  to  trace 
What  good,  what  evil,  from  ourselves  proceeds  : 
And  how  the  subtle  principle  within 
Inspires  with  health,  or  mines  with  strange  decay. 
The  passive  body.     Ye  poetic  shades, 
That  know  the  secrets  of  the  world  unseen, 
Assist  my  song  !     For,  in  a  doubtful  theme 
Engaged,  I  wander  through  mysterious  ways. 

THE  SPnuTCAL  BODY  ISFLCESCBS  THE  ANIMAL  BODY. 

Thoro  is,  they  say  (and  I  believo  there  is), 
A  spark  within  us  of  th'  immortal  fire, 
Tlmt  iiiiiiuatos  and  moulds  the  grosser  frame  ; 
An  I,  whrii  till-  Ii.hIv  sinks,  escapes  to  heaven, 
II-  naiiir  -^rat.  un.l  mixes  with  the  gods. 
.Mr:ui\\tiil<;  t!ii>  heavenly  particle  pervades 
Til.'  iii.iVtiil  i-luuR'nts  :  in  every  nerve 
It  thrill?  with  plcusurc,  or  grows  mad  with  pain. 
.Vii'l,  ill  it-'  >i--crct  conclave,  as  it  feels 
The  body's  woes  and  joys,  this  ruling  power 
Wields  at  its  will  the  dull  material  world, 
And  is  the  body's  health  or  malady. 


By  its  own  toil  the  gross  corporeal  frame 
Fatigues,  extenuates,  or  destroys  itself. 
Nor  less  the  labors  of  the  mind  corrode 
The  solid  fabric  :  for  by  subtle  parts 
And  viewless  atoms  secret  Nature  moves 
The  mighty  wheels  of  this  stupendous  world. 
By  subtle  fluids  poured  through  subtle  tubes 
The  natural,  vital  functions  are  performed. 
By  these  the  stubborn  aliments  are  tamed  ; 
The  toiling  heart  distributes  life  and  strength  ; 
These  the  still-crumbling  frame  rebuild  ;  and  th 
Arc  lost  in  thinking,  and  dissolve  in  air. 


AXXIBIY,  DISCOSTEST,  ETC. 

But 't  is  not  thought  (for  still  the  soul  'a  employed), 
Tis  painful  thinking,  that  corrodes  our  clay. 
All  day  the  vacant  eye  without  fatigue 
Strays  o'er  the  heaven  and  earth  ;  but  long  intent 
On  microscopic  arts  its  vigor  fails. 
Just  so  the  mind,  with  various  thought  amused, 
Nor  aches  itself,  nor  gives  the  body  pain. 
But  anxious  study,  discontent,  and  care. 
Love  without  hope,  and  hato  without  revenge, 


And  fear,  and  jealousy,  fatigue  the  soul. 

Engross  the  subtle  ministers  of  life. 

And  spoil  the  laboring  functions  of  their  shar 

Hence  the  lean  gloom  that  melancholy  wears  j 

The  lover's  paleness  ;  and  the  sallow  hue 

Of  envy,  jealousy  ;   the  meagre  stare 

Of  sore  revenge  :  the  cankered  body  hence 

Betrays  each  fretful  motion  of  the  mind. 


The  strong-built  pedant,  who  both  night  and  day 
Feeds  on  the  coarsest  faro  the  schools  bestow. 
And  crudely  fattens  at  gross  Burman's  stall, 
O'erwhelmcd  with  phlegm  lies  in  a  dropsy  drowned. 
Or  sinks  in  lethargy  before  his  time. 
With  useful  studies  you,  and  arts  that  please, 
Employ  your  mind,  amuse  but  not  fatigue. 
Peace  to  each  ■lr..w-v  iivi:i!.lu«ip  sage, 
And  ever  ni:i.\    i!!  '     i  '  hh  rest  ! 

Yet  some  thn.    .         ,    i,     :   .  :,.-lie  parts. 
Whom  stron.i;  ;ni.|  .i.  im  !!>■  iiiiiliition  leads 
Through  all  the  ru^^'id  v.ni.ls  of  barren  lore, 
And  gives  to  relish  what  their  generous  tn.'ste 
Would  else  refuse.     But  may  not  thirst  of  fume, 
Nor  love  of  knowledge,  urge  you  to  fatigue 
With  constant  drudgery  the  liberal  soul. 
Toy  with  your  books  :  and,  as  the  various  fits 
Of  humor  seize  you,  from  philosophy 
To  fable  shift ;  from  serious  Antonine 
To  Rabelais'  ravings,  and  from  prose  to  song. 


-POSTURE  Ui  STCDTISO. 

While  reading  pleases,  but  no  longer,  read  ; 
And  read  aloud  resounding  Homer's  strain. 
And  wield  the  thunder  of  Demosthenes. 
The  chest  so  exercised  improves  its  strength  ; 
And  quick  vibrations  through  the  bowels  drive 
The  restless  blood,  which  in  unaotive  days 
Would  loiter  else  through  unelostlo  tubes. 
Deem  it  not  trifling  while  I  recommend 
What  posture  suits  :  to  stand  and  sit  by  turns, 
As  Nature  prompts,  is  best.     But  o'er  your  leaves 
To  lean  forever,  cramps  the  vital  parts. 
And  robs  the  fine  machinery  of  its  play. 


'T  is  the  great  art  of  life  to  manage  well 
The  restless  mind.     Forever  on  pursuit 
Of  knowledge  bent,  it  starves  the  grosser  powers  : 
Quite  unemployed,  against  its  own  repose 
It  turns  its  fatal  edge,  and  sharper  pangs 
Than  what  the  body  knows  embitter  life. 


452 


RURAL    POETRY.  ARMSTRONfi. 


Chiefly  where  Solitude,  sad  nurse  of  Care, 

To  sickly  musing  gives  the  pensive  mind. 

There  Madness  enters  ;  and  the  dim-oycd  fiend. 

Sour  Melancholy,  night  and  day  provokes 

Her  own  eternal  wound.     The  sun  grows  pale  ; 

A  mournful,  visionary  light  o'erspreads 

The  cheerful  face  of  nature  ;  earth  becomes 

A  dreary  desert,  and  heaven  frowns  above. 

Then  various  shapes  of  cursed  illusion  rise  : 

Whate'er  the  wretched  fears,  creative  Fear 

Forms  out  of  nothing  ;  and  with  monsters  teems 

Unknown  in  hell.     The  prostrate  soul  beneath 

A  load  of  huge  imagination  heaves  ; 

And  all  the  horrors  that  the  murderer  feels 

With  anxious  flutterings  wake  the  guiltless  breast. 


Such  phantoms  pride,  ia  solitary  scenes, 
Or  fear,  on  delicate  self-love  creates. 
From  other  cares  absolved,  the  busy  mind 
Finds  in  yourself  a  theme  to  pore  upon  ; 
It  finds  you  miserable,  or  makes  you  so. 
For  while  yourself  you  anxiously  explure. 
Timorous  self-love,  with  siekcniug  fancy's  aid, 
Presents  the  danger  tliat  you  dread  the  most. 
And  ever  galls  you  in  your  tender  part. 
Hence  some  for  love,  and  some  for  jealou?y, 
For  grim  religion  some,  and  some  for  pride, 
Have  lost  their  reason  :  some  for  fear  of  want 
Want  all  their  lives  ;  and  others  every  day 
For  fear  of  dying  suffer  worse  than  death. 

FEAR,  THE    WORST     OF    EVILS.  —  CARB. — TRUST     IN     PROVI- 

Ah  !  from  your  bosoms  banish,  if  you  can. 
Those  fatal  guests  :  and  first,  the  demon  Fear, 
That  trembles  at  impossible  events  ; 
Lest  aged  Atlas  should  resign  his  load. 
And  heaven's  eternal  battlements  rush  down. 
Is  there  an  evil  worse  than  fear  itself  ? 
And  what  avails  it  that  indulgent  Heaven 
From  mortal  eyes  has  wrapt  the  woes  to  come, 
If  we,  ingenious  to  torment  ourselves. 
Grow  pale  at  hideous  fictions  of  our  own  ? 
Enjoy  the  present  ;.  nor  with  needless  cares, 
Of  what  may  spring  from  blind  Misfortune's  womb. 
Appall  the  surest  hour  that  life  bestows. 
Serene,  and  master  of  yourself,  prepare 
For  what  may  come  ;  and  leave  the  rest  to  Heaven. 

THE  body's  An.S  DISEASE  THE  MIND,  WHICH  REACTS  OS  THE 


Vain  are  the  consolations  of  the  wise  ; 

In  vain  your  friends  would  reason  down  your  pain 


0  ye,  whose  souls  Relentless  love  has  tamed 
To  soft  distress,  or  friends  untimely  fallen  ! 
Court  not  the  luxury  of  tender  thought ; 
Nor  deem  it  impious  to  forget  those  pains 
That  hurt  the  living,  naught  avail  the  dead. 
Go,  soft  enthusiast !  quit  the  cypress  groves. 
Nor  to  the  rivulet's  lonely  meanings  tune 
Your  sad  complaint.     Go,  seek  the  cheerful  haunts 
Of  men,  and  mingle  with  the  bustling  crowd  ; 
Lay  schemes  for  wealth,  or  power,  or  fame,  the  wish 
Of  nobler  minds,  and  push  them  night  and  day. 
Or  join  the  caravan  in  quest  of  scenes 
New  to  your  eyes,  and  shifting  every  hour. 
Beyond  the  Alps,  beyond  the  Apennines. 
Or,  more  adventurous,  rush  into  the  field 
AVhere  war  grows  hot ;  and,  raging  through  the  sky, 
The  lofty  trumpet  swells  the  maddening  soul  : 
And  in  the  hardy  camp  and  toilsome  march 
Forgot  all  softer  and  less  manly  cares. 


Oft  from  the  body,  by  long  ails  mistuned. 
These  evils  sprung,  the  most  important  health, 
That  of  the  mind,  destroy  ;  and  when  the  mind 
They  first  invade,  the  conscious  body  soon 
In  sympathetic  languisbment  declines. 
These  chronic  passions,  while  from  real  woes 
They  rise,  and  yet  without  the  body's  fault 
Infest  the  soul,  admit  one  only  cure  ; 
Diversion,  hurry,  and  a  restless  life. 


But  most,  too  passive,  when  the  blood  runs  low. 
Too  weakly  indolent  to  strive  with  pain. 
And  bravely  by  resisting  conquer  fate, 
Try  Circe's  arts  ;  and  in  the  tempting  bowl 
Of  poisoned  nectar  sweet  oblivion  swill. 
Struck  by  the  powerful  charm,  the  gloom  dissolves 
In  empty  air  :  elysium  opens  round, 
A  pleasing  frenzy  buoys  the  lightened  soul, 
And  sanguine  hopes  dispel  your  fleeting  cares  ; 
And  what  was  difiieult,  and  what  was  dire. 
Yields  to  your  prowess  and  superior  stars  : 
The  happiest  you  of  all  that  e'er  were  mad. 
Or  arc,  or  shall  be,  could  this  folly  last. 
But  soon  your  heaven  is  gone  ;  a  heavier  gloom 
Shuts  o'er  your  head  :  and  as  the  thundering  stream, 
Swol'n  o'er  its  banks  with  sudden  mountain  rain. 
Sinks  from  its  tumult  to  a  silent  brook. 
So,  when  the  frantic  raptures  in  yom-  breast 
Subside,  you  languish  into  mortal  man  ; 
You  sleep,  and  waking  find  yourself  undone. 

DREADFUL     FEELINGS     WHEN      THE      EXCITEMENT     OF     DRINK 
PASSES   OFF.  —  PENTHEOS. 

For,  prodigal  of  life,  in  one  rash  night 
You  lavished  more  than  might  support  three  days. 
A  heavy  morning  comes  ;  your  cares  return 
With  ten-fold  rage.     An  anxious  stomach  well 
May  be  endured  ;  so  may  the  throbbing  head : 
But  such  a  dim  delirium,  such  a  dream, 
Involves  you  ;  such  a  dastardly  despair 
Unmans  your  soul,  as  maddening  Pentheus '  felt, 

1  The  grandson  of  Cadmus,  and  King  of  Thebes,  driven 
mad  by  Bacchus  for  resisting  the  introduction  of  his  worsliip. 
He  was  torn  to  pieces  by  his  mother  and  two  aunts,  while 
they  were  in  a  bacchic  frenzy.  His  fate  is  celebrated  in 
the  Bttcclme  of  Euripides. 


458 


Whon,  baited  round  Citliroron'a  cruel  sides, 
Ho  saw  two  suns  and  double  Thebes  nsccnd. 
You  curso  tho  sluggish  port  ;  you  curse  tho  wretch, 
The  felon,  with  unnatural  mixture  first 
Who  dared  to  violate  the  virgin  wine. 
j    Or  on  the  fugitive  champagne  you  pour 
A  thousand  curses  ;  for  to  heaven  it  wrapt 
Tour  soul,  to  plunge  you  deeper  in  despair. 
Perhaps  you  rue  even  that  diviuest  gift, 
Tho  gay,  serene,  good-natured  Burgundy, 
Or  the  fresh,  fragrant  vintage  of  tho  Uhino  : 
And  wish  that  Heaven  from  mortals  had  withheld 
The  grape,  and  all  intoxicating  bowls. 


SAD  ErPKCTS  OF  DRINKINU.  —  FOLLIKS  i  CKIHBS  ; 

Besides,  it  wounds  you  sore  to  recollect 

What  follies  in  your  loose,  unguarded  hour 

Escaped.     For  one  irrevocable  word. 

Perhaps  that  meant  no  harm,  you  lose  a  friend. 

Or  in  tho  rage  of  wine  your  hasty  hand 

Performed  a  deed  to  haunt  you  to  the  grave. 

Add  that  your  means,  your  health,  your  parts,  decay ; 

Your  friends  avoid  you  ;  brutishly  transformed, 
j    They  hardly  know  you  ;  or  if  one  remains 

To  wish  you  well,  he  wishes  you  in  heaven. 
I    Despised,  unwept,  you  fall  ;  who  might  have  left 

A  sacred,  cherished,  sadly-pleasing  name  ; 

A  name  still  to  bo  uttered  with  a  sigh. 

Your  last  ungraceful  scene  has  quite  effaced 
f  of  your  former  worth. 


How  to  live  happiest ;  how  avoid  the  pains. 
The  disappointments,  and  disgusts  of  those 
Wii..  wi.uM  in  i>leasure  all  their  hours  employ  ; 
I'hc  i,n-.'.-].ls  hure  of  a  divine  old  man 
1  •■■■n\d  ni-itc.     Though  old,  ho  still  retained 
Hi-  iiiunly  souse  and  energy  of  mind. 
Virtuous  and  wise  he  was,  but  not  severe  ; 
He  still  remembered  that  ho  once  was  young  ; 
His  easy  presence  checked  no  decent  joy. 
Him  even  the  dissolute  atlmired  ;  for  he 
A  graceful  looseness  when  he  pleased  put  on. 
And  laughing  could  instruct.     Much  had  be  read. 
Much  more  had  seen  ;  be  studied  from  the  life. 
And  in  the  original  perused  mankind. 

TUE  PCRSnT  OF   HAPPINESS PLKASrnK   AS    AN    F.NO. 

Versed  in  the  woes  and  vanities  of  life. 
He  pitied  man  :  and  much  ho  pitied  those 
Whom  falsely-smiling  Fate  has  cursed  with  means 
To  dissipate  their  days  in  quest  of  joy. 
Our  aim  is  happiness  ;  'tis  yours,  'tis  mine. 
He  said,  't  is  the  pursuit  of  all  that  live  ; 
Yet  few  attain  it,  if  'twas  ere  attained. 
But  they  the  widest  wander  from  the  mark 
AVho  through  the  flowery  paths  of  sauntering  joy 
Seek  this  coy  goddess  ;  that  from  stage  to  stage 
Invites  us  still,  but  shifts  as  we  pursue. 
For,  not  to  name  the  pains  that  pleasure  brings 
To  counterpoise  itself,  relentless  Fate 
Forbids  that  we  through  gay,  voluptuous  wilds 
Should  ever  roam  ;  and  were  the  Fati-s  more  kind. 


Our  narrow  luxuries  would  soon  grow  stale. 
Were  these  cxhaustless,  Nature  would  grow  sick. 
And,  cloyed  with  pleasure,  squeamishly  complain 
That  all  was  vanity,  and  life  a  dream. 
Let  Nature  rest ;  bo  busy  for  yourself. 
And  for  your  friend  ;  be  busy  cv'n  in  vain. 
Rather  than  tease  her  sated  appetites. 
AVho  never  fasts,  no  banquet  e'er  enjoys  ; 
Who  never  toils  or  watches,  never  sleeps. 
Let  Nature  rest :  and  when  the  taste  of  joy 
tirows  keen,  indulge  ;   but  shun  satiety. 


'Tis  not  for  mortals  always  to  bo  blest. 
But  him  the  least  the  dull  or  painful  hours 
Of  life  oppress,  whom  sober  sense  conducts. 
And  virtue,  through  this  labyrinth  wc  tread. 
Virtue  and  sense  I  mean  not  to  disjoin  ; 
Virtue  and  sense  are  one  :  and,  trust  me,  still 
A  faithless  heart  betrays  the  head  unsound. 
Virtue  (for  mere  good-nature  is  a  fool) 
Is  sense  and  spirit  with  humanity  ; 
'T  is  sometimes  angry,  and  its  frown  confounds  ; 
'T  is  ov'n  vindictive,  but  in  vengeance  just. 

MAJBSTY  OF  VIBTOE. —SENSE. 

Knaves  fain  would  laugh  at  it  ;  some  great  ones 
But  at  his  heart  the  most  undaunted  son        [dare  ; 
Of  fortune  dreads  its  name  and  awful  charms. 
To  nobler  uses  this  determines  wealth  ; 
This  is  the  solid  pomp  of  prosperous  days  ; 
The  peace  and  shelter  of  adversity. 
And  if  you  pant  for  glory,  build  your  fame 
On  this  foundation,  which  the  secret  shock 
Defies  of  envy  and  all-sapping  time. 
Tho  gaudy  gloss  of  Fortune  only  strikes 
Tho  vulgar  eye  :  the  suffrage  of  the  wise. 
The  praise  that 's  worth  ambition,  is  attained 
By  sense  alone,  and  dignity  of  mind. 

VIRTUE  IS  god's  best  GIFT.  —  WEALTH.  —  TUE  END  OF  RICHES 


Virtue,  the  strength  and  beauty  of  the  soul. 
Is  the  best  gift  of  Heaven  :  a  happiness 
That  even  above  the  smiles  and  frowns  of  fate 
£.\alts  great  Nature's  favorites  :  a  wealth 
That  ne'er  encumbers,  nor  can  bo  transferred. 
Riches  are  oft  by  guilt  and  baseness  earned  ; 
Or  dealt  by  chance  to  shield  a  lucky  knave. 
Or  throw  a  cruel  sunshine  on  a  fool. 
Bat  for  one  end,  one  much-ucglectcd  use. 
Are  riches  worth  your  care  ;  for  Nature's  wants 
Are  few,  and  without  opulence  supplied. 
This  noble  end  is  to  produce  tho  soul  ; 
To  show  the  virtues  in  their  fairest  light ; 
To  make  humanity  the  minister 
Of  bounteous  Providence  ;  and  teach  the  breast 
That  generous  luxury  the  gods '  enjoy. 

Thus,  in  his  graver  vein,  the  friendly  sago 
Sometimes  declaimed.  Of  right  and  wrong  he  taught 

I  Meaning,  perhaps, '  the  angels,'  as  the  poel  was  not  a 
heathen.  '!'• 


RURAL   POETRY. ARMSTRONG. 


Truths  as  refined  as  ever  Athens  heard  ; 

And  (strange  to  tell  '.)he  practised  what  he  preached. 

Skilled  in  the  passions,  how  to  check  their  sway 

He  knew,  as  far  as  reason  can  control 

The  lawless  powers.     But  other  cares  are  mine  : 

Formed  in  the  school  of  Paeon,  I  relate 

What  passions  hurt  the  hody,  what  improve  : 

Avoid  them,  or  invite  them,  as  you  may. 


Know,  then,  whatever  cheerful  and  serene 
Supports  the  mind,  supports  the  body  too. 
Hence,  the  most  vital  movement  mortals  feel 
Is  hope,  the  balm  and  life-blood  of  the  soul. 
It  pleases  and  it  lasts.     Indulgent  Heaven 
Sent  down  the  kind  delusion,  through  the  paths 
Of  rugged  life  to  lead  us  patient  on. 
And  make  our  happiest  state  no  tedious  thing. 
Our  greatest  good,  and  what  we  least  can  spare. 
Is  hope  :  the  last  of  all  our  evils,  fear. 

LOVB;    whom    it    harms     not.  — REnSEB    NiTDBES  SUOCLO 

But  there  are  passions  grateful  to  the  breast. 
And  yet  no  friends  to  life  :  perhaps  they  please 
Or  to  excess,  and  dissipate  the  soul  ; 
Or  while  they  please,  torment.    The  stubborn  clown. 
The  ill-tamed  ruffian  and  pale  usurer 
(If  love's  omnipotence  such  hearts  can  mould). 
May  safely  mellow  into  love  ;  and  grow 
Refined,  humane,  and  generous,  if  they  can. 
Love  in  such  bosoms  never  to  a  fault 
Or  pains  or  pleases.     But,  ye  finer  souls, 
Formed  to  soft  luxury,  and  prompt  to  thrill 
Vith  all  the  tumults,  all  the  joys  and  pains, 
That  beauty  gives  ;  with  caution  and  reserve 
Indulge  the  sweet  destroyer  of  repose. 
Nor  court  ton  mimli  the  iiueen  nf  ehnrming  cares. 
For,  whilcthr.l„M.|i-l  i-i  .11  in  >..,,!  l.reast 

Ferments  !U1<1  li::e|.lili.,  -el,   mhIi    j.  ;iImu   y, 

The  wholesome  appetites  and  powers  of  life 
Dissolve  in  languor.     The  coy  stomach  loathes 
The  genial  board  :  your  cheerful  days  are  gone  ; 
The  generous  bloom  that  flushed  your  cheeks  is  fled. 

ILL  CONSEQUENCES   OF   MDSING  TO  THE  LOVER. 

To  sighs  devoted  and  to  tender  pains. 
Pensive  you  sit,  or  solitary  stray. 
And  waste  your  youth  in  musing.     Musing  first 
Toyed  into  care  your  unsuspecting  heart  : 
It  found  a  liking  there,  a  sportful  fire. 
And  that  fomented  into  serious  love  ; 
Which  musing  daily  strengthens  and  improves 
Through  all  the  heights  of  fondness  and  romance  ; 
And  you're  undone,  the  fatal  shaft  has  sped. 
If  once  you  doubt  whether  you  love  or  no. 


Sweet  Heaven,  from  such  intoxicating  charms 

Defend  all  worthy  breasts  !     Not  that  I  deem 

Love  always  dangerous,  always  to  be  shunned. 

Love  well  repaid,  and  not  too  weakly  sunk 

In  wanton  and  unmanly  tenderness. 

Adds  bloom  to  health  ;  o'er  ev'ry  virtue  sheds 

A  gay,  humane,  a  sweet  and  generous  grace. 

And  brightens  all  the  ornaments  of  man. 

But  fruitless,  hopeless,  disappointed,  racked 

With  jealousy,  fatigued  with  hope  and  fear. 

Too  serious,  or  too  languishingly  fond. 

Unnerves  the  body  and  unmans  the  soul. 

And  some  have  died  for  love  ;  and  some  run  mad  ; 

And  some  with   desperate  hands  themselves  have 

COKES   FOR    LOVE-SICKNESS. — VARIETY  CONSIDERED. 

Some  to  extinguish,  others  to  prevent, 
A  mad  devotion  to  one  dangerous  fair, 
Court  all  they  meet  ;  in  hopes  to  dissipate 
The  cares  of  love  amongst  an  hundred  brides. 
The  event  is  doubtful  :  for  there  are  who  find 
A  cure  in  this  ;  there  are  who  find  it  not. 
'T  is  no  relief,  alas  !  it  rather  galls 
The  wound,  to  those  who  are  sincerely  sick. 
For  while  from  feverish  and  tumultuous  joys 
The  nerves  grow  languid,  and  the  soul  subsides, 
The  tender  fancy  smarts  with  every  sting. 
And  what  was  love  before  is  madness  now. 

LOVB.  —  AVOID     LICENTIOUSNESS  ;     ITS    DE- 


The  body  wastes  away  ;  the  infected  mind, 
Dissolved  in  female  tenderness,  forgets 
Each  manly  virtue,  and  grows  dead  to  fame. 


Is  health  your  care,  or  luxury  your  aim. 
Bo  temperate  still :  when  Nature  bids,  obey  ; 
Her  wild,  impatient  sallies  bear  no  curb  : 
But  when  the  prurient  habit  of  delight, 
Or  loose  Imagination,  spurs  you  on 
To  deeds  above  your  strength,  impute  it  not 
To  Nature  :  Nature  all  compulsion  hates. 
Ah  !  let  not  luxury  nor  vain  renown 
Urge  you  to  feats  you  well  might  sleep  without  ; 
To  make  what  should  -be  rapture  a  fatigue, 
A  tedious  task  ;  nor  in  the  wanton  arms 
Of  twining  Lais  melt  your  manhood  down. 
For  from  the  coUiquation  of  soft  joys 
How  changed  you  rise  !  the  ghost  of  what  you  was  ! 
Languid,  and  melancholy,  and  gaunt,  and  wan  ; 
Your  veins  exhausted,  and  your  nerves  unstrung. 
Spoiled  of  its  balm  and  sprightly  zest,  the  blood 
Grows  vapid  phlegm  ;  along  the  tender  nerves 
(To  each  slight  impulse  tremblingly  awake) 
A  subtle  fiend,  that  mimics  all  the  plagues, 
Rapid  and  restless  springs  from  part  to  part. 
The  blooming  honors  of  your  youth  are  fallen  ; 
Your  vigor  pines  ;  your  vital  powers  decay  ; 
Diseases  haunt  you  ;  and  untimely  age 
Creeps  on,  unsocial,  impotent,  and  lewd. 
Infatuate,  impious  epicure  !  to  waste 
The  stores  of  pleasure,  cheerfulness,  and  health  ! 
Infatuate  all  who  make  delight  their  trade. 
And  coy  perdition  every  hour  pursue. 


455 


Who  pines  with  loTO,  or  in  lascivious  flauios 
Consumes,  is  with  his  own  consent  undone  ; 
Uo  chooses  to  bo  wretched,  to  be  mad  ; 
And  warned  proceeds,  and  wilful,  to  his  fate. 
But  there's  a  passion  whoso  Jempestuous  sway 
Tears  up  each  virtue  pUinted  in  the  breast, 
And  shakes  to  ruins  proud  philosophy. 
Fi>r  pale  and  trembling  Auger  rushes  in. 
With  faltering  speech,  and  eyes  that  wildly  stare; 
Fierce  as  the  tiger,  madder  than  the  seas,  [strength. 
Desperate,   and    armed    with    more    than    mortal 
IIow  soon  the  calm,  humane,  and  polished  man 
Forgets  compunction,  and  starts  up  o  fiend  ! 
Who  pines  in  love,  or  wastes  with  silent  cares, 
Envy,  or  ignominy,  or  tender  grief, 
Slowly  descends,  and  lingering,  to  the  Shades. 
But  he  whom  anger  stirs  drops,  if  he  dies. 
At  once,  and  rushes  apoplectic  down  ; 
Or  a  fierce  fever  hurries  him  to  hell. 
For,  OS  the  body  through  unnumbered  strings 
Reverberates  each  vibration  of  the  soul  ; 
As  is  the  passion,  such  is  still  the  pain 
The  body  feels  :  or  chronic,  or  acute. 
And  oft  a  sudden  storm  at  once  o'erpowcrs 
The  life,  or  gives  your  reason  to  the  winds. 
Such  fates  attend  the  rash  alarm  of  fear. 
And  sudden  grief,  and  rage,  and  joy. 

TO  SOME  A   FIT  OF  ASOER  rSEFlL.  —  ll-HO  SHOILD  AVOID   IT 
—  CACTIOSS  TO   THE  mnrTABLB. 

There  are,  meantime,  to  whom  the  boisterous  fit 
Is  health,  and  only  fills  the  sails  of  life. 
For  where  the  mind  a  torpid  winter  leads, 
Wrajit  in  a  body  corpulent  and  cold. 
And  each  clogged  function  lazily  moves  on, 
A  generous  sully  spurns  the  incumbent  load. 
Unlocks  the  breast,  and  gives  a  cordial  glow. 
But  if  your  wrathful  blood  is  apt  to  boil, 
(Jr  are  your  nerves  too  irritably  strung. 
Wave  all  dispute  ;  bo  cautious  if  you  joke  ; 
Keep  Lent  forever,  and  forswear  the  bowl. 
For  one  rash  moment  sends  you  to  the  Shades, 
Or  shatters  every  hopeful  scheme  of  life. 
And  gives  to  horror  all  your  days  to  come. 
Fate,  armed  with  thunder,  fire,  and  every  plague. 
That  ruins,  tortures,  or  distracts  mankind. 
And  makes  the  happy  wretched  in  an  hour, 
O'erwhelms  you  not  with  woes  so  horrible 
As  your  own  wrath,  nor  gives  more  sudden  blows. 

ADVIPB   TO   TUR   CHOLBRIC. 

While   choler  works,  good  friend,  you  may  1 

Distrust  yourself,  and  sleep  before  you  fight. 
'T  is  not  too  lato  to-morrow  to  be  brave  ; 
If  honor  bids,  to-morrow  kill  or  die. 
But  calm  advice  against  a  raging  fit 
Avails  too  little  ;  and  it  braves  the  power 
Of  all  that  over  tought  in  prose  or  song. 
To  tame  the  fiend  that  sleeps  a  gentle  Inmb, 
And  wakes  a  lion.     Unprovoked  and  calm, 


You  reason  well  ;  soo  o«,you  ought  to  see. 
And  wonder  at  the  madness  of  mankind  : 
Seized  with  the  common  rage,  yon  soon  forget 
The  speculations  of  your  wiser  hours. 


Beset  with  furies  of  all  deadly  shapes. 
Fierce  and  insidious,  violent  and  slow, 
With  all  that  urge  or  luro  us  on  to  fate, 
What  refuge  shall  wo  seek  ?  what  arms  prepare  ? 
Where  reason  proves  too  weak,  or  void  of  wiles 
To  cope  with  subtle  or  impetuous  powers, 
I  would  invoke  new  passions  to  your  aid  : 
With  indignation  would  e.vtinguish  fear. 
With  fear  or  generous  pity  vanquish  rage. 
And  love  with  prido  ;  and  force  to  force  oppose. 

MUSIC  A3  A  PASSIOS-QCELLKR.  —  SATIHK  OF  OPEIIAS. 

There  is  a  charm,  a  power,  that  sways  the  breast; 
Bids  every  passion  revel  or  be  still  ; 
Inspires  with  rage,  or  all  your  cares  dissolves  ; 
Can  soothe  distraction,  and  almost  despair. 
That  power  is  music  :  far  beyond  the  stretch 
Of  those  unmeaning  warblers  on  our  stage  ; 
Those  clumsy  heroes,  those  fat-headed  gods. 
Who  move  no  passion  justly,  but  contempt : 
Who,  like  our  dancers  (light  indeed  and  strong  !), 
Do  wondrous  feats,  but  never  heard  of  grace. 
The  fault  is  ours  ;  we  bear  those  monstrous  arts  ; 
Good  heaven  !  we  praise  them  ;  we   with   loudest 
Applaud  the  fool  that  highest  lifts  his  heels  ;  [peals 
And,  with  insipid  show  of  rapture,  die 
Of  idiot  notes  impertinently  long. 

TBCE    MCSIC  — ITS    EFFECTS. —D.ITID    AXD  SACL.  —  ABIOS. 
—  ORPUECS. 

But  he  the  muse's  laurel  justly  shares,  — 
A  poet  he,  and  touched  with  Heaven's  own  fire,  — 
Who,  with  bold  rage  or  solemn  pomp  of  sounds. 
Inflames,  exalts,  and  ravi-shes  the  soul  ; 
Now  tender,  plaintive,  sweet  almost  to  pain, 
In  love  dissolves  you  ;  now  in  sprightly  strains 
Breathes    a  gay  rapture   through  your   thrilling 

breast  ; 
Or  raelta  the  heart  with  airs  divinely  sad  ; 
Or  wakes  to  horror  the  tremendous  strings. 
Such  was  the  bard  whoso  heavenly  strains  of  old 
Appeased  the  fiend  of  melancholy  Saul. 
Such  was,  if  old  and  heathen  fame  say  true, 
The  man  '  who  bade  the  Theban  domes  ascend. 
And  tamed  the  savage  nations  with  his  song  ; 
And  such  the  Thracian,«  whose  melodious  lyre. 
Tuned  to  soft  woo,  made  all  the  mountains  weep ; 
Soothed  oven  the  inexorable  powers  of  hell. 
And  half  redeemed  his  lost  Eurydiee. 
JIusic  exalts  each  joy,  allays  each  grief. 
Expels  diseases,  softens  every  pain, 
Subdues  the  rage  of  poison,  and  the  plaguo  ; 
And  hence  the  wise  of  ancient  days  adored 
One  power  of  physio,  melody,  and  song. 

1  Amphlon,  at  whose  playing  on  the  lyre  the  stones  ol 
Uie  walls  of  Thebes  are  saiil  to  have  taken  their  placet  of 
their  own  accord.  =  Orpheus,  see  his  story,  p.  435. 


%\\\[i{  (Dh  for   l^uuuvy. 


WINTER. 


WRITTEN     JANDART, 


1796,   -ET.   SU^,    17. 

Strophe.    AVrapt  in  joyless  night  and  storm, 
Fur  in  the  frozen  north,  his  throne 

Winter  holds,  terrific  form, 
Nor  glimmering  beam  of  day  has  known. 

Waiting  the  desired  command, 
His  angry  ministers,  on  either  hand, 

Shrill  icy  blasts,  tempest,  and  hail,  and 
Mingle  above,  around,  below.  [snow, 

Chaos  delights  to  hear  their  riot  loud, 
Sees  here  established  her  perennial  way  ; 
While  thro'  the  midnight,  throne-involving  cloud, 

A  voice  thus  forces  its  resistless  way  ; 
'  Seek,  Powers  tumultuous,  dignified  employ  ; 
Go,  wreak  your  rage  on  man,  each  blissful   scene 

destroy  !  * 
Antistrophe.    All  obey,  and  shouts,  that  tear 

The  vaulted  heavens,  his  mandate  hail ; 

They  for  destined  joy  prepare. 
And,  shadowing  all,  in  darkness  sail. 
Lo  !  the  dreaded,  hideous  train 
Satiate  their  vengeance  on  the  prostrate  main, 
On  beauteous  earth,  by  kinder  seasons  drest, 
While  terror  seizes  every  breast. 
Now  all  around  a  dreary  waste  appears  ; 

No  more  the  verdant  prospect  charms  the  eye, 

Nature,  o'erwhelmed,  seems  sunk  in  icy  years  ; 

The  child  of  sorrow  heaves  a  pitying  sigh.  — 

Yet,  holding  stern  their  course,  the  cheering  day. 

And  gladness,  peace,  and  hope,  they  frighten  far  away. 

Epode.    This  is  thy  dreaded  sway. 

Such  terrors,  Winter,  thine. 
Lo  !  Superstition  rears  her  gorgon  head, 
Her  glaring  eyeballs  shine. 
Darting  a  thrilling  ray, 
And  rouse  to  vulgar  view  the  sheeted  dead. 
On  the  midnight  whirlwind  tost. 
See  the  spectres,  shadowy,  pale  ! 
Heard  you  that  feeble,  hollow-sounding  wail? 
The  rocking  tempest  howls  ;  their  shrieks  are  lost. 
Fear  chills  the  beating  heart.    Each  dreary  pause 
Hears  the  sad  tale  go  round  the  village  fire  ; 
^Attention  cheeks  the  voice.     Dread  silence  awes 
The  mind  ;  while  fears  related  fears  inspire. 
*  Hark  !  I  hear.     Sure  they  are  near, 
The  spirits  of  tempestuous  night  ; 
On  the  gale,  behold  them  sail  ! 
Heaven  preserve  my  aching  sight  ! 
0  that  again  those  peace-clad  days  were  known. 
When  o'er  our  happy  plains  the  sun's  mild  radiance 
shone.' 


Strophe.    Let  thy  horrors  chill  their  soul, 

Winter,  the  crowd  may  fear  thy  power  ; 

Wisdom  spurns  thy  mad  control, 

She  starts  not  when  thy  tempests  lower. 

Maid,  enlarge  my  opening  mind, 

Teach  me  thy  pleasures  and  thy  bliss  to  find; 

Raise  me  above  their  hopes  and  foolish  fear, 

Who  shrink  when  wintry  storms  appear. 

Are  there  no  joys  but  those  which  Spring  affords? 

Say,  shall  not  Nature  please  on  every  view? 

Summer  prepares  the  loved  autumnal  hoards  ; 

But  has  not  surly  Winter  charms  for  you  ? 

Canst  thou  not  still  adore  that  awful  God, 

Who  midnight   darkness  wreathes,   and  pours  his 

storms  abroad  ? 

Antistrophe.    Calm  and  studious  may  I  sit, 

By  the  dim  tapei-'s  glimmering  ray, 

Musing  on  airy  forms,  that  flit 

In  roused  imagination's  day. 

Or  the  blooming  portraits  view. 

By  history's  pencil  painted,  fair,  yet  true. 

May  these  direct  wilil  T!ii;nlrtri..ri'.^  .):ii-t, 

And  pour  instruell'i!  

Display,  0  maid,  to  my  >  i     :  i 

FairFreedom,  inhertlin  Im,  pIh  -  n  i  iy,_(l: 
Paint  Glory's  sons,  demanding  ardent  fight, 
And  foul  barbaric  ignorance  dismayed. 
Recall  to  view  each  patriot's  sacred  name. 
Who  fought,  and,  dying,  swelled  the  loud-tongued 
trump  of  Fame. 

Epodk.    Nor  be  forgot  the  band. 

Who  wisdom  brought  from  heaven  ; 
Their  praise  the  enduring  lip  of  Time  shall  sing. 
To  minds  like  theirs  is  given 
To  bless  their  native  land. 
And  spurn  dull  earth,  on  philosophic  wing.' 
Thus  the  imperial  eagle  soars. 
While  gazing  crowds  below  admire. 
He  bares  his  broad  breast  to  meridian  fire. 
Exerting  all  his  cloud-surmounting  powers. 
Oft  may  I  wander  o'er  poetic  plains. 
With  bards  of  eldest  time  high  converse  hold  ; 
Oft  too  may  Fancy's  wildly-warbled  strains 
Rouse,  calm,  direct  the  passion-moulded  soul. 
Such  joys  for  me,  till  when  I  see 
Fair-blooming  Spring  bedeck  the  fields  ; 
Fly  then  Despair,  and  sullen  Care, 
Even  gloomy  Winter  pleasure  yields. 
Despondency  Heaven  ne'er  for  man  designed, 
But  framed  each  season's  change  to  rouse  and  teach 
bis  mind. 


(L'oiiipcr's    "oOlintcr    (L'luniiu] 


A.  Tlic  world 
Winter.  The 
i  of  a  winter  evening  comparcil  with  the 
1C9.  Address  to  Eraiing.  A  brown  study, 
now  in  the  cvenlnR.  The  wagoner.  A  poor 
ece.  The  rural  thief.  Public  houses.  The 
of  Iheni  o.-ii-*urf(l.  The  farmer's  daughter  : 
what  she  was,  n I... I  ',  i  -^Ir  :,:i|.liclty  of_ country 
manners  almost  l-r  '  ■ 
of  the  country  by  th  n 

militia  principallj    i 

transformation.    Hri!      ■  n    i; -.    i  ,>....,«.   ^..^  . — 

of  rural  objects  natural  to  nil,  iiiul  never  to  be  totally  ex- 
tinguished. 

THE  MAIL. — THE  P03TMAS  AND  HIS  BUDGET. 

Hark  !  't  is  the  twanging  Iiorn  o'er  yonder  bridge. 
That  with  its  wearisome  but  needful  length 
Bestrides  the  wi-^.try  flood,  in  which  the  moon 
Sees  her  unwrinklcd  face  reflected  bright ;  — 
lie  comes,  the  herald  of  a  noisy  world,  [looks  ; 

With  spattered  boots,  strapped  waist,    and   frozen 
News  from  all  nations  lumbering  at  his  back. 
True  to  his  charge,  the  close-packed  load  behind, 
Yet  careless  what  ho  brings,  his  one  ooncern 
Is  to  conduct  it  to  the  destined  inn  ; 
And,  having  dropped  the  expected  bag,  pass  on. 
lie  whistles  as  he  goes,  light-hearted  wretch. 
Cold  and  yet  cheerful :  messenger  of  grief 
Perhaps  to  thousands,  and  of  joy  to  some  ; 
To  hun  indifferent  whether  grief  or  joy. 
Houses  in  oshes,  and  the  fall  of  stocks. 
Births,  deaths,  and  marriages,  epistles  wet 
With  tears,  that  trickled  down  the  writer's  cheeks 
Fast  as  the  periods  from  his  fluent  quill, 
Or  charged  with  amorous  sighs  of  absent  swains. 
Or  nymphs  responsive,  equally  affect 
His  horse  and  him,  unconscious  of  them  all. 

'  THE  SEWS,'  FORBIOS  AND  DOMESTIC. 

But,  0,  the  important  budget !  ushered  in 
With  such  heart-shaking  music,  who  can  say 
What  are  its  tidings?  have  our  troops  awaked? 
Or  do  they  still,  as  if  with  opium  drugged. 
Snore  to  the  murmurs  of  the  Atlantic  wave? 
la  India  free?  and  does  she  wear  her  plumed 
And  jewelled  turban  with  a  smilo  of  peace, 
Or  do  we  grind  her  still  ?     The  grand  debate. 
The  popular  harangue,  the  tort  reply. 
The  logic,  and  the  wisdom,  and  the  wit. 
And  the  loud  langh  —  I  long  to  know  them  all  ; 
I  burn  to  sot  the  imprisoned  wranglers  free, 
And  give  them  voice  and  utterance  once  again. 


Now  stir  the  fire,  and  close  the  shutters  fast, 


Let  fall  the  curtains,  wheel  the  sofa  round. 

And  while  the  bubbling  and  loud-hissing  urn 

Throws  up  a  steamy  column,  and  the  cups, 

That  cheer  but  not  inebriate,  wait  on  each. 

So  let  us  welcome  peaceful  evening  in. 

Not  such  his  evening,  who  with  shining  face 

Sweats  in  the  crowded  theatre,  and,  s<iueczcd 

And  bored  with  elbow-points  through  both  his  sides, 

Outscolds  the  ranting  actor  on  the  stage  : 

Nor  his,  who  patient  stands  till  his  feet  throb, 

And  his  head  thumps,  to  feed  upon  the  breath 

Of  patriots,  bursting  with  heroic  rage. 

Or  placemen,  all  tranquillity  and  smiles. 


Tliis  folio  of  four  pages,  happy  work  ! 
'  Which  not  oven  critics  criticize  ;  that  holds 
Inquisitive  attention,  while  I  read. 
Fast  bound  in  chains  of  silence,  which  the  fair, 
Though  eloquent  themselves,  yet  fear  to  break  ; 
What  is  it,  but  a  map  of  busy  life. 
Its  fluctuations,  and  its  vast  concerns  ? 
Hero  runs  the  mountainous  and  craggy  ridge 
That  tempts  ambition. 

THE  POLITICAL  ASPIBAST.  — THE  SUPPLE 


The  seals  of  oflico  glitter  in  his  eyes  ; 

Ho  climbs,  ho  pants,  ho  grasps  them  !   At  his  hee 

Close  at  his  heels,  a  demagogue  ascends. 

And  with  a  dexterous  jerk  soon  twists  him  down, 

And  wins  them,  but  to  lose  them  in  his  turn. 

THE  POLITICIAS'S  MOCK  MODESTY. 

Here  rills  of  oily  eloquence  in  soft 
Meanders  lubricate  the  course  they  take  ; 
The  modest  speaker  is  ashamed  and  grieved 
To  engross  a  moment's  notice  ;  and  yet  begs. 
Begs  a  propitious  ear  for  his  poor  thoughts, 
However  trivial  all  that  ho  conceives. 
Sweet  boshfulncss  !  it  claims  at  least  this  praise  ; 
The  dearth  of  information  and  good  sense. 
That  it  foretells  us,  always  come  to  pass. 


VAIUED   CO.\TBXre   OP   ' 

Cataracts  of  declamation  thunder  hero  ; 
There  forests  of  no  meaning  spread  the  page. 
In  which  all  comprehension  wanders  lost ; 
While  fields  of  pleasantry  amuse  us  there 
With  merry  descants  on  a  nation's  woes. 

I  The  rest  appears  a  wilderness  of  strange 
But  gay  confusion  ;  roses  for  the  cheeks, 

j  And  lilies  for  the  brows,  of  faded  ago  ; 


458 


RURAL    POETRY. COWPER. 


Teeth  for  the  toothless,  ringleta  for  the  bald, 

Heaven,  earth,  and  ocean,  plundered  of  their  sweets, 

Nectareous  essences,  Olympian  dews. 

Sermons,  and  city  fuasts,  and  favorite  airs. 

Ethereal  journeys,  submarine  exploits. 

And  Katerfelto,'  with  his  hair  on  end 

At  his  own  wonders,  wondering  for  his  bread. 

A  PEEP  AT  THE  WOHLD    FBOM  THE  LOOP-HOLES  OF  A  COUNTRY 
RETREAT. 

'Tis  pleasant  through  the  loop-holes  of  retreat 
To  peep  at  such  a  world  ;   to  see  the  stir 
Of  the  great  Babel,  and  not  feel  the  crowd  ; 
To  hear  the  roar  she  sends  through  all  her  gates 
At  a  safe  distance,  where  the  dying  sound 
Falls  a  soft  murmur  on  the  uninjured  ear. 
Thus  sitting,  and  surveying  thus  at  ease 
The  globe  and  its  concerns,  I  seem  advanced 
To  some  secure  and  more  than  mortal  height. 
That  liberates  and  exempts  me  from  them  all. 


I""™^''" ■".  turns  round 

Withallite -..i,.i  ,in„.-  :    I  i„.|„,id 
The  tumult,  and  am  still.     The  sound  of  war 
Has  lost  its  terrors  ere  it  reaches  me  ; 
Grieves,  but  alarms  me  not.     I  mourn  the  prid 
And  avarice,  that  make  man  a  wolf  to  man  ; 
Hear  the  faint  echo  of  those  brazen  throats. 
By  which  he  speaks  the  language  of  his  heart. 
And  sigh,  but  never  tremble  at  the  sound. 

VOVAGES  AND  TRAVELS  AT  HOME. 

He  travels  and  expatiates,  as  the  bee 
From  flower  to  flower,  so  he  from  land  to  land  ; 
The  manners,  customs,  policy,  of  all 
Pay  contribution  to  the  store  he  gleans  ; 
He  sucks  intelligence  in  every  clime. 
And  spreads  the  honey  of  his  deep  research 
At  his  return  —  a  rich  repast  for  me. 
He  travels,  and  I  too.     I  tread  his  deck, 
Ascend  his  topmast,  through  his  peering  eyes 
Discover  countries,  with  a  kindred  heart 
Suffer  his  woes,  and  share  in  his  escapes  ; 
While  fancy,  like  the  finger  of  a  clock, 
Runs  the  great  circuit,  and  is  still  at  home. 


nverted  year, 


APOSTROPHE 

0  Winter,  ruler  of  the 
Thy  scattered  hair  with  sleet-like  ashes  filled, 
Thy  breath  congealed  upon  thy  lips,  thy  cheeks 
Fringed  with  a  beard  made  white  with  other  snows 
Than  those  of  age,  thy  forehead  wrapped  in  clouds, 
A  leafless  branch  thy  sceptre,  and  thy  throne 
A  sliding  car,  indebted  to  no  wheels. 
But  urged  by  storms  along  its  slippery  way,  — 
I  love  thee,  all  unlovely  as  thou  seem'st, 
And  dreaded  as  thou  art ! 


HOME  PLEASURES  ;  WIN- 
TER EVENINGS. 

Thou  hold'st  the  sun 
A  prisoner  in  the  yet  undawning  east, 

1  A  famous  juggler  and  oocjurer  of  the  day. 


Shortening  his  journey  between  morn  and  noon. 
And  hurrying  him,  impatient  of  his  stay, 
Down  to  the  rosy  west ;  but  kindly  still 
Compensating  his  loss  with  added  hours 
Of  social  converse  and  instructive  ease. 
And  gathering,  at  short  notice,  in  one  group, 
The  family  dispersed,  and  fixing  thought, 
Not  les.s  dispersed  by  daylight  and  its  cares. 
I  crown  thee  king  of  intimate  delights, 
Fireside  enjoyments,  home-born  happiness. 
And  all  the  comforts  that  the  lowly  roof 
Of  undisturbed  retirement,  and  the  hours 
Of  long-uninterrupted  evening,  know. 


No  rattling  wheels  stop  short  before  these  gates  ; 
No  powdered,  pert  proficient  in  the  art 
Of  sounding  an  alarm  assaults  these  doors 
Till  the  street  rings  ;   no  stationary  steeds 
Cough  their  own  knell,  while,  heedless  of  the  sound, 
The  silent  circle  fan  themselves,  and  quake  : 

NEEDLE-WORK. 

But  here  the  needle  plies  its  busy  task, 
The  pattern  grows,  the  well-depicted  fiowcr, 
Wrought  patiently  into  the  snowy  lawn. 
Unfolds  its  bosom  ;   buds,  and  leaves,  and  sprigs, 
And  curling  tendrils,  gracefully  disposed. 
Follow  the  nimble  finger  of  the  fair  ; 
A  wreath  that  cannot  fade,  or  flowers  that  blow 
With  most  success  when  all  besides  decay. 

READING   ALOUD   To  THE  FAMILY   CIRCLE  ;     MUSIC. 

The  poet's  or  historian's  page  by  one 
Made  vocal  for  the  amusement  of  the  rest  ; 
The  sprightly  lyre,  whose  treasure  of  sweet  sound 
The  touch  from  many  a  trembling  chord  sliakes  out; 
And  the  clear  voice  symphonious,  yet  distinct. 
And  in  the  charming  strife  triumphant  still  ; 
Beguile  the  night,  and  set  a  keener  edge 
On  female  industry  :  the  threaded  steel 
Flies  swiftly,  and  unfelt  the  task  proceeds. 

THE   RURAL  SUPPER. 

The  volume  closed,  the  customary  rites 
Of  the  last  meal  commence.     A  Roman  meal  ; 
Such  as  the  mistress  of  the  world  once  found 
Delicious,  when  her  patriots  of  high  note. 
Perhaps  by  moonlight,  at  their  humble  doors, 
And  under  an  old  oak's  domestic  shade. 
Enjoyed,  spare  feast !  a  radish  and  an  egg. 

FAMILY  CONVERSATION 

Disoouri 
Nor  such  as  with  a  frown  forbids  the  play 
Of  fancy,  or  proscribes  the  sound  of  mirtli  : 
Nor  do  we  madly,  like  an  impious  world. 
Who  deem  religion  frenzy,  and  the  God 
That  made  them  an  intruder  on  their  joys. 
Start  at  His  awful  name,  or  deem  His  praise 
A  jarring  note. 


CHASTENED    ] 

not  ti-ivial,  yet  not  du 


WINTKR  —  JANUARY. 


459 


PRO^DKSCIS  — BSPKCIALLT  IS  OUR  SrlRlTlAL  PBOORBSS, 

Thcmos  of  ft  graver  tone, 
Exciting  oft  our  gratitude  and  lovo, 
Wliilo  wo  rotraoo  with  Memory's  pointing  wand, 
Tlint  calls  the  past  to  our  exact  review, 
The  dangers  wo  liavo  'scaped,  the  broken  snare, 
The  disappointed  foe,  deliverance  found 
Uulookcd  for,  life  preserved,  and  peace  restored. 
Fruits  of  omnipotent,  eternal  Lovo. 
0  evenings  worthy  of  the  gods  !  exclaimed 
The  Sabine  hard.     0  evenings,  I  reply, 
More  to  be  priicd  and  coveted  than  yours, 
As  more  illumined,  and  with  nobler  truths, 
That  I,  and  mine,  and  those  we  love,  enjoy. 

TUB  TBEATRB  SOT  SBCBS3ART  TO 


Is  Winter  hideous  in  a  garb  like  this? 
Needs  ho  llio  tnviiio  fur,  the  smoke  of  lamps. 
The  i..i.t.n,.  M.  nh  n,  ;,„  unsavory  throng, 
Xi>  tliau  '    II      I     1     !     ^  ;  or  the  smart 
And  sii.ii  |i.  ii    ii    '   -'■"     'I'll  flippant  wits 
Call  cuuiLa.v,  ii.  1.1..U11.L  Lua  with  a  smile? 
The  self-complaCBut  actor,  when  he  views 
(Stealing  a  sidelong  glance  at  a  full  house) 
The  slope  of  faces  from  the  floor  to  the  roof 
(As  if  one  master-spring  controlled  them  all), 
Ilclaxed  into  a  universal  grin, 
Sees  not  a  countonanco  there  that  speaks  of  joy 
Ualf  so  refined  or  so  sincere  as  ours. 

CARDS  raSECESSABT.  — TUB  Wl.NCS  OF  TIME. 

Cards  were  superfluous  here,  with  all  the  tricks 
That  idleness  has  ever  yet  contrived 
To  fill  the  void  of  an  unfurnished  brain. 
To  palliate  dulness,  and  give  time  a  shove. 
Time,  as  he  passes  us,  has  a  dove's  wing, 
Unsoilcd,  and  swift,  and  of  a  silken  sound  ; 
But  the  world's  time  is  time  in  masquerade  ! 
Theirs,  should  I  paint  him,  has  his  pinions  fledged 
With  motley  plumes  ;  and,  whore  the  peacock  shows 
His  azure  eyes,  is  tinctured  black  and  red 
With  spots  quadrangular  of  diamond  form. 
Ensanguined  hearts,  clubs  typical  of  strife. 
And  spades,  the  emblem  of  untimely  graves. 


But  truce  with  censure,    lloving  as  I  rove. 
Where  shall  I  find  an  end,  or  how  proceed? 

FASniOSADI-R  rOLUES.  —  A  SIMILE. 

As  ho  that  travels  far  oft  turns  aside 
To  view  some  rugged  rock  or  mouldering  tower. 
Which  seen  delights  him  not  ;  then  coming  homo 
Describes  and  prints  it,  that  the  world  may  know 
How  far  ho  went  for  what  was  nothing  worth  ; 
So  I,  with  brush  in  hand  and  palette  spread. 
With  colors  mixed  for  a  far  different  use, 
Paint  cards,  and  dolls,  and  every  idle  thing. 
That  fancy  finds  in  her  excursive  flights. 

DESCRIPTIVE  APOSTROPHE  TO  EVESl.VO.  —  THE  BVBSISG  STAR. 

Come,  Evening,  once  again,  season  of  peace  ! 
Return,  sweet  Evening,  and  continue  long  ! 
Mothinks  I  see  thee  in  the  streaky  west, 
With  matron  sU'j.  sl.iw  muviii^',  while  the  Night 
Treads  on  tliv    m  <  i  i -     <'■'■•<   .    ""c  hand  employed 
In  letting  lali  i  '    n  ["■^'e 

On  bird  aii.l  l.i  ,i  : ,  i  .      '  )i:ir-cd  for  man 

With  sweet  ..L.ln i  iii>  >-"t'-^  of  Jay  : 

Not  sumptuously  adorned,  not  needing  aid. 
Like  homely-featured  Night,  of  clustering  gems  ; 
A  star  or  two,  just  twinkling  on  thy  brow, 
Suflices  thee  ;  save  that  the  moon  is  thine 
No  less  than  hers,  not  worn  indeed  on  high 
With  ostentatious  pageantry,  but  set 
With  modest  grandeur  in  thy  purple  zone. 
Resplendent  less,  but  of  an  ampler  round. 


KASIIIOX. 

What  should  be  and  what  was  an  hour-glass  one 
Becomes  a  dice-box,  and  a  billiard-mace 
Well  docs  the  work  of  his  destructive  scythe. 
Thus  decked,    ho   charms  a  world   whom  fashi( 

blinds 
To  his  true  worth,  most  pleased  when  idle  most  ; 
Whoso  only  happy  are  their  wasted  hours. 

TUB  PRBCOCIOCliLY  PASniOSABLB  MISS. 

Even  misses,  at  whose  age  their  mothers  wore 
The  baokstring  and  the  bib,  assume  the  dress 
Of  womanhood,  fit  pupils  in  the  school 
Of  card-devoted  time  ;  and  night  by  night. 
Placed  at  some  vacant  corner  of  the  board. 
Learn  every  trick,  and  soon  play  all  the  game. 


CALM    COMPOSCRE 


VENING.  — TUB 


Come,  then,  and  thou  shalt  find  thy  votary  culm. 
Or  make  me  so.     Composure  is  thy  gift  : 
And,  whether  I  devote  thy  gentle  hours 
To  books,  to  music,  or  the  poet's  toil, 
To  weaving  nets  for  bird-alluring  fruit, 
Or  twining  silken  threads  round  ivory  reels. 
When  they  command  whom  man  was  born  to  please, 
I  slight  thee  not,  but  make  thee  welcome  still. 

Just  when  our  drawing-rooms  begin  to  bla/.o 
With  lights,  by  clear  reflection  multiplied 
From  many  a  mirror,  in  which  ho  of  Oath, 
Goliah,  might  have  seen  his  giant  bulk 
Whole  without  stooping,  towering  crest  and  all, 
Aly  pleasures  too  begin. 

PARLOR  TWILICUT.  — VISIONS  IS  TOE  EMBERS  )  SIGNS  OS  TIW 

But  me  perhaps 
The  glowing  hearth  may  satisfy  a  while 
With  faint  illumination,  that  uplifts 
The  shadows  to  the  ceiling,  there  by  fits 
Dancing  unoouthly  to  the  quivering  flame. 
Not  undelightful  is  an  hour  to  mo 
So  spent  in  parlor  twilight  :  such  a  gloom 
Suits  well  the  thoughtful  or  unthinking  mind, 
Tho  mind  contemplative,  with  some  new  theme 
Pregnant,  or  indisposed  alike  to  all. 
Laugh  ye,  who  boast  your  more  mercurial  powers, 


■*""  •  RURAL    POETRY. 

That  never  felt  a  stupor,  know  no  pause, 

Nor  need  one  ;  I  am  conscious,  and  confess, 

Fearless,  a  soul  that  does  not  always  think. 

Me  oft  has  fancy  ludicrous  and  wild 

Soothed  with  a  waking  dream  of  houses,  towers, 

Trees,  churches,  and  strange  visages,  expressed 

In  the  red  cinders,  while  with  poring  eye 

I  gazed,  myself  creating  what  I  saw. 

Nor  less  amused  have  I  quiescent  watched 

The  sooty  films,  that  play  upon  the  bars 

Pendulous,  and  foreboding  in  the  view 

Of  superstition,  prophesying  still,  [proach. 

Though   still  deceived,   some   stranger's   near   ap- 


'T  is  thus  the  understanding  takes  repose 
In  indolent  vacuity  of  thought. 
And  sleeps,  and  is  refreshed.     Meanwhile  the  face 
Conceals  the  mood  lethargic  with  a  mask 
Of  deep  deliberation,  as  the  man 
Wore  tasked  to  his  full  strength,  absorbed  and  lost. 
Thus  oft,  reclined  at  ease,  I  lose  an  hour 
At  evening,  till  at  length  the  freezing  blast. 
That  sweeps  the  bolted  shutter,  summons  home 
The  recollected  powers  ;  and  snapping  short 
The  glassy  threads  with  which  the  fancy  weaves 
Her  brittle  toils,  restores  me  to  myself. 


How  calm  is  my  recess,  and  how  the  frost, 
Raging  abroad,  and  the  rough  wind,  endear 
The  silence  and  the  warmth  enjoyed  within  ! 
I  saw  the  woods  and  fields  at  close  of  day 
A  variegated  show  ;   the  meadows  green. 
Though  faded  ;  and  the  lands,  where  lately  waved 
The  golden  harvest,  of  a  mellow  brown. 
Upturned  so  lately  by  the  forceful  share. 
I  saw  far  ofl'  the  weedy  fallows  smile 
With  verdure  not  unprofitable,  grazed 
By  flocks,  fast  feeding,  and  selecting  each 
His  favorite  herb  ;  while  all  the  leafless  groves 
That  skirt  the  horizon  wore  a  sable  hue. 
Scarce  noticed  in  the  kindred  dusk  of  eve. 


To-morrow  brill-    ,i      in,-..  ,,  t-ital  change  ! 
Which  even  n. TO-,  I'rii-li  -iImiiIi  i.crformed, 
And  slowly,  and  !.>  iii.i.,i  mUcli,  the  face 
Of  universal  nature  undergoes. 
Fast  falls  a  fleecy  shower  :  the  downy  fl.xkes 
Descending,  and  with  never-ceasing  lapse. 
Softly  alighting  upon  all  below. 
Assimilate  all  objects.     Earth  receives 
Gladly  the  thickening  mantle  ;  and  the  green 
And  tender  blade,  that  feared  the  chilling  blast. 
Escapes  unhurt  beneath  so  warm  a  veil. 


It  seems  the  part  of  wisdom,  and  no  sin 
Against  the  law  of  love,  to  measure  lots 
With  less  distinguished  than  ourselves  ;  that  thu 
■\\'u  may  with  patience  bear  our  moderate  ills. 
And  sympathize  with  others  sufiering  more. 


[       111  fares  the  traveller  now,  and  he  that  stalks 
In  ponderous  boots  beside  his  reeking  team. 
The  wain  goes  heavily,  impeded  sore 
By  congregated  loads  adhering  close 
To  the  clogged  wheels  ;  and  in  its  sluggish  pace 
Noi.seless  appears  a  moving  hill  of  snow. 
The  toiling  steeds  expand  the  nostril  wide. 
While  every  breath,  by  respiration  strong 
Forced  downward,  is  consolidated  soon 
Upon  their  jutting  chests. 

THE  TEAMSTER  ;    BLEST  WITH   HARDUIOOD. 

He,  formed  to  bear 
The  pelting  brunt  of  the  tempestuous  night. 
With  half-shut  eyes,  and  puckered  cheeks,  and  teeth 
Presented  bare  against  the  storm,  plods  on. 
One  hand  secures  his  hat,  save  when  with  both 
He  brandishes  his  pliant  length  of  whip. 
Resounding  oft,  and  never  heard  in  vain. 
0  happy  !  and  in  my  account  denied 
That  sensibility  of  pain,  with  which 
Refinement  is  endued,  thrice  happy  thou  ! 
Thy  frame,  robust  and  hardy,  feels  indeed 
The  piercing  cold,  but  feels  it  unimpaired. 
The  learned  finger  never  need  e.xplore 
Thy  vigorous  pulse  ;  and  the  uuhealthful  East, 
That  breathes  the  spleen,  and  searches  every  bore 
Of  the  infirm,  is  wholesome  air  to  thee. 


PATIENCE  J 

In  such  a  world,  so  thorny,  and  where  none 
Finds  happiness  unblighted  ;  or,  if  found. 
Without  some  thistly  sorrow  at  his  side  ; 


TO   TEAMS   IN   WINTER. 

Thy  days  roll  on  exempt  from  household  care  ; 
Thy  wagon  is  thy  wife  ;  and  the  poor  beasts. 
That  drag  the  dull  companion  to  and  fro. 
Thine  helpless  charge,  dependent  on  thy  care, 
Ah,  treat  them  kindly  !  rude  as  thou  appear'st, 
Yet  show  that  thou  hast  mercy  !  which  the  great. 
With  needless  hurry  whirled  from  pL-ice  to  place. 
Humane  as  they  would  seem,  not  always  show. 

THE  COTTAGE  LABORERS  IN  WINTER. — THEIR    SCANTY  FCEL. 

Poor,  yet  industrious,  modest,  quiet,  neat. 
Such  claim  compassion  in  a  night  like  this, 
And  have  a  friend  in  every  feeling  heart. 
Warmed,  while  it  lasts,  by  labor,  all  d.ay  long 
They  brave  the  season,  and  yet  find  at  eve, 
111  clad  and  fed  but  sparely,  time  to  cool. 
I  The  frugal  housewife  trembles  when  she  lights 
Her  scanty  stock  of  brushwood,  blaziug  clear. 
But  dying  soon,  like  all  terrestrial  joys. 
j  The  few  small  embers  left  she  nurses  well ; 
j  And,  while  her  infant  race,  with  outspread  hands, 
j  And  crowded  knees,  sit  cowering  o'er  the  sparks, 
'  Retires,  content  to  quake,  so  they  be  warmed. 
The  man  feels  least,  as  more  inured  than  she 
I  To  Winter,  and  the  current  in  his  veins 


WINTER  — JANUARY. 


461 


More  briskly  movod  by  his  severer  toil ; 
I      Yet  ho  too  finda  his  own  distress  ia  theirs. 

8CASTT  Lionrs  AXD  SCASTT   »ABE  OP  THE  nOSltST  lOOR.  - 
TllBlR  KSSPECTIUILITY. 

The  taper  soon  extinguished,  which  I  saw 
Dangled  along  at  the  cold  finger's  end 
.Tust  when  the  day  declined  ;  and  the  brown  loaf 
Lodged  on  the  shelf,  half-etttcn  without  sauce 

(If  savory  clioosp,  or  butter,  costlier  still  ; 
Slrr|.  -I.  Ill-  tlicir  only  refuge  :  for,  alas  ! 
W  ii.iv  iHuurv  i-  felt  the  thought  is  chained, 
An.l  suout  o.llM.|uial  pleasures  are  but  few. 
With  all  this  thrift  they  thrive  not.     All  the  care 
Ingenious  parsimony  takes  but  just 
Saves  the  small  inventory,  bed,  and  stool. 
Skillet,  and  ..Id  ciivvr.l  .-host.  frn,„  public  sale. 
They  lix.-.  :.n.l  li^.'  uitli..ut  rxt..rl.>.l  :ilms 
From  grw.l-...:,'  I.;.n.l-  ;   l.iii  ..1I..1  L.'^ist  have  nunc 
To  sootlK-  lluir  h.iiK.-t  pri.l..  that  f.v.rns  to  beg, 
Nor  comfort  else,  but  in  their  nmtual  love. 


paiSOK  CBIMISAL3  iSD 


ixDrs 


t  pair, 


vrned 


I  praise  you  mmli,  >.   1 

For  ye  are  worthy  : 

A  dry  but  indcpii.  i     ' 

And  eaten  with  a  ti^h,  u. 
1    The  rugged  frowns  and  insolent  rebuffs 

Of  knaves  in  office,  partial  in  the  work 

Of  distribution  ;  liberal  of  their  aid 

To  clamorous  importunity  in  rags, 
I    Uut  ofttimes  deaf  to  suppliants  who  would  blush 
'     To  wear  a  tattered  garb,  however  coarse, 

^Vli.iin  famine  cannot  reconcile  to  fdth  : 

'I'hi-i'  ask  uilh  painful  shyness,  and,  refused 
11.  .aus.'  .h  SI  r\  ing,  silently  retire  ! 


But  be  ye  of  good  courage  !     Time  itself 
Shall  much  befriend  you.    Time  shall  give  increa 
And  all  your  numerous  progeny,  well  trained 
But  helpless,  in  few  years  shall  find  their  bauds, 
And  labor  too.     Meanwhile  yo  shall  not  want 
What,  conscious  of  your  virtues,  we  can  spare. 
Nor  what  a  wealthier  than  ourselves  may  send. 
I  mean  the  man  who,  when  the  distant  poor 
Need  help,  denies  them  nothing  but  his  name. 

BECOJBV    .( 


But  poverty  with  most,  who  whimper  forth 
Their  long  complaints,  is  self-inflicted  woe  ; 
The  effect  of  laziness  or  sottish  waste. 
Now  goes  the  nightly  thief  prowling  abroad 
For  plunder  ;  much  solicitous  how  best 
He  may  compensate  for  a  day  of  sloth 
By  works  of  darkness  and  nocturnal  wrong. 

STEALING    FRriT. 

Woe  to  the  gardener's  pale,  the  farmer's  hedge, 
Plashed  neatly,  and  secured  with  driven  stakes 
Deep  in  the  loamy  bank.    Uptorn  by  strength. 
Resistless  in  so  bad  a  cause,  but  lame 


To  better  deeds,  he  bundles  up  the  spoil. 
An  ass's  burden,  and,  when  laden  most 
And  heaviest,  light  of  foot  steals  fast  away. 
Nor  does  the  boarded  hovel  better  guard 
The  well-stacked  pile  of  riven  logs  and  roots 
From  his  pernicious  force. 

BOBDISO  OP  HES-BOOSTS. 

Nor  will  ho  leave 
I'nwrenched  the  door,  however  well  secured, 
W  here  Cli.mtieleer  amidst  his  harem  sleeps 
In  unsuspecting  pomp.     Twitched  from  the  perch, 
He  gives  the  princely  bird,  with  all  his  wives. 
To  his  voracious  bag,  struggling  in  vain. 
And  loudly  wondering  at  tho  suddon  change. 

ISTEMPKBiSCB,  TOE  CBCEL  CfBSB. 

Nor  this  to  feed  his  own.     'T  were  some  excuse, 
Did  pity  of  their  sufferings  warp  aside 
llis  principle,  and  tempt  him  into  sin 

For  their  suii|H    ...  t.    'Itii.  .     But  they 
Neglected  pi..'    -     '  '  ■■  1      :i:-.  Ives,  as  more 

Exposed  tha .-    .  I mplemade 

His  victims    i.!'"  I  'I  ''"  "  -l.l.'noclcss  all. 
Cruel  is  all  he  dues.     'T  is  ^ucnchle8s  thirst 
Of  ruinous  ebriety  that  prompts 
Uis  every  action,  and  imbrutes  the  man. 
i  0,  for  a  law  to  noose  tho  villain's  neck, 
1  Who  starves  his  own  ;  who  persecutes  the  blood 
1  He  gave  them  in  his  children's  veins,  and  hates 
And  wrongs  the  woman  ho  has  sworn  to  love  ! 

LICBSSED  DKAM-SUOPS. 

]       Pass  where  we  may,  through  city  or  through  town 
!  Village  or  hamlet  of  this  merry  land, 
i  Though  lean  and  beggared,  every  twentieth  pace 
'  Conducts  the  unguarded  nose  to  such  a  whilf 
Of  stale  debauch,  forth  issuing  from  the  styes 
That  law  has  licensed,  as  makes  temperance  reel. 


There  sit,  involved  and  lost  in  curling  clouds 
Of  Indian  fume,  and  guzzling  deep,  the  boor. 
The  Inokey,  nn<l  tho  groom  :  the  craftsman  there 


:  all  1 


Si,,,,  I       :    ,,,1,  he  that  plies  the  shears, 

\ii  i  I..    ; :  ,■  I       .  i-  tho  dough  ;  all  loud  alike, 
\]]  I.  I  ,..  i,  ,!  ,  1  .ill  .Irunk  !  the  fiddle  screams 
Plaintive  and  pite"us,  as  it  wept  and  wailed 
Its  wasted  tones  and  harmony  unheard  : 
Fierce  the  dispute,  whatc'er  the  theme  ;  while  she. 
Fell  Discord,  arbitress  of  such  debate. 
Perched  on  the  sign-post,  holds  with  even  hand 
Her  undecisive  scales.     In  this  she  lays 
A  weight  of  ignorance  ;  in  that,  of  pride  ; 
And  smiles  delighted  with  the  eternal  poise. 
Dire  is  the  frequent  curse,  and  its  twin  sound. 
The  cheek-distending  oath,  not  to  bo  praised 
As  ornamental,  musical,  polite. 
Like  those  which  modern  senators  employ. 
Whose  oath  is  rhetoric,  and  who  swear  for  famo  • 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  COWPER. 


Behold  the  schools  i 
Once  simple,  are  inili; 
AVhich  some  nuiy  |.i;m 


The  road  that  Itad^  iVum  cuuiiKteuce  am 
To  indigence  and  rapine  ;   till  at  last 
Society,  grown  weary  of  the  load, 
Shakes  her  encumbered  lap,  and  casts  th 


ABB  SCHOOLS.  ,  For  more  than  half  the  tresses  it  sustains  ; 

■vhich  plebeian  minds,  Her  elbows  ruffled,  and  her  tottering  form 

il  ill  ;i]t.s  111  propped  upon  French  heels;  she  might  be  deemed 

\\\\\\  pi 'liter  grace,  1  (l^ut  that  the  basket  dangling  on  her  arm 

ill  I  —  t  id  here  they  learn  Interprets  her  more  truly)  of  a  rank 

cuuipctence  and  peace  Too  proud  for  dairy-work,  or  sale  of  eggs. 

I  Expect  her  soon  with  foot-boy  at  her  heels, 

j  No  longer  blushing  for  her  awkward  load, 

I  Her  train  and  her  umbrella  all  her  care  ! 


But  censure  profits  little  :  vain  the  attempt 
To  advertise  in  verse  a  public  pest, 
That,  like  the  filth  with  which  the  peasant  feeds 
His  hungry  acres,  stinks,  and  is  of  use. 
The  excise  is  fattened  with  the  rich  result 
Of  all  this  riot  ;  and  ten  thousand  casks, 
Forever  dribbling  out  their  base  contents. 
Touched  by  the  Midas  finger  of  the  state. 
Bleed  gold  for  ministers  to  sport  away. 
Drink,  and  be  mad,  then  ;   't  is  your  country  bids  ! 
Gloriously  drunk  obey  the  important  call  ! 
Her  cause  demands  the  assistance  of  your  throats;  - 
Ye  all  can  swallow,  and  she  asks  no  more. 


Would  I  had  fallen  upon  those  happier  days. 
That  poets  celebrate  ;  those  golden  times. 
And  those  Arcadian  scenes  that  Maro  sings, 
And  Sidney,  warbler  of  poetic  prose  ! 
Nymphs  were  Dianas  then,  and  swains  had  hearts 
That  felt  their  virtues  :  innocence,  it  seems, 
From  courts  dismissed,  found  shelter  in  the  groves; 
The  footsteps  of  simplicity,  impressed 
Upon  the  yielding  herbage  (so  they  sing). 
Then  were  not  all  effaced  :  then  speech  profane. 
And  manners  profligate,  were  rarely  found. 
Observed  as  prodigies,  and  soon  reclaimed. 


THE  GOLDEN   . 

Vain  wish  !  those  days  were  never  :  airy  dreams 
Sat  for  the  picture  :  and  the  poet's  hand, 
Imparting  substance  to  an  empty  shade, 
Imposed  a  gay  delirium  for  a  truth. 
Grant  it :  I  still  must  envy  them  an  age. 
That  favored  such  a  dream  ;  in  days  like  these 
Impossible,  when  virtue  is  so  scarce, 
That  to  suppose  a  scene  where  she  presides 
Is  tramontane,  and  stumbles  all  belief. 


No  :  we  are  polished  now.     The  rural  lass. 
Whom  once  her  virgin  modesty  and  grace, 
Her  artless  manners,  and  her  neat  attire. 
So  dignified,  that  she  was  hardly  less 
Thau  the  fair  shepherdess  of  old  romance, 
Is  seen  no  more.     The  character  is  lost ! 
Her  head,  adorned  with  lappets  pinned  aloft, 
Aud  ribands  streaming  gay,  superbly  raised. 
And  magnified  beyond  all  human  size. 
Indebted  to  some  smart  wig-weaver's  hand 


THE    TOWN    HAS    STAINED    THE    COUNTRY.  —  FASHION    HAS 

The  town  has  tinged  the  country  ;  and  the  stain 
Appears  a  spot  upon  a  vestal's  robe. 
The  worse  for  what  it  soils.     The  fashion  runs 
Down  into  scenes  still  rural  ;  but,  alas  ! 
Scenes  rarely  graced  with  rural  manners  now  ! 
Time  was  when  in  the  pastoral  retreat 
The  unguarded  door  was  safe  ;  men  did  not  watch 
To  invade  another's  right,  or  guard  their  own. 
Then  sleep  was  undisturbed  by  fear,  unscared 
By  drunken  bowlings  ;  and  the  chilling  tale 
Of  midnight  murder  was  a  wonder  heard 
With  doubtful  credit,  told  to  frighten  babes. 

THE  SECCRITY  OF  THE  COUNTRY  HAS  CEASED. 

But  farewell  now  to  unsuspicious  nights. 
And  slumbers  unalarmed  !     Now,  ere  you  sleep, 
See  that  your  polished  arms  be  primed  with  care, 
And  drop  the  night-bolt ;  —  ruflBans  are  abroad. 
And  the  first  larum  of  the  cock's  shrill  throat 
May  prove  a  truiupct,  siiuiiiiDning  your  ear 
To  horriil--<.iini|-  -I  li.-i  ]]<■  feet  within. 
Even  daylij  lit  li:i-  it-  ^hin-crs  ;   and  the  walk 
Through  p;nhlr,-^  u;(-tr>  ;iint  woods, 
Of  other  tenants  than  melodious  birds, 
Or  harmless  flocks,  is  hazardous  and  bold. 


Lamented  change  !  to  which  full  many  a  cause 
Inveterate,  hopeless  of  a  cure,  conspires. 
The  course  of  human  things  from  good  to  ill. 
From  ill  to  worse,  is  fatal,  never  fails. 
Increase  of  power  begets  increase  of  wealth  ; 
Wealth  luxury,  and  luxury  excess  ; 
Excess,  the  scrofulous  and  itchy  plague. 
That  seizes  first  the  opulent,  descends 
To  the  next  rank  contagious,  and  in  time 
Taints  downward  all  the  graduated  scale 
Of  order,  from  the  chariot  to  the  plough. 

THE  RTCU  DESERT    THEIR    DUTY   FOB  PLEASURE. 

The  rich,  and  they  that  have  an  arm  to  check 
The  license  of  the  lowest  in  degree. 
Desert  their  oflace  ;  and  themselves,  intent 
On  pleasure,  haunt  the  capital,  and  thus 
To  all  the  violence  of  lawless  hands 
Resign  the  scenes  their  presence  might  protect. 
Authority  herself  not  seldom  sleeps, 
Though  resident,  and  witness  of  the  wrong. 


[  OF  SOME  OF  THE  CLERG 

inp  convivial  parson  often  bears 


WINTER  —  JANUARY. 


463 


Tho  magisterial  sword  in  vain,  and  lays 

His  rovoronce  and  his  worship  both  to  rest 

On  tUo  same  cushion  of  habitual  sloth. 

Perhaps  timidity  restrains  his  arm  ; 

When  he  should  strike  ho  trembles,  and  sets  free, 

Himself  enslaved  by  terror  of  the  band, 

Tho  audacious  convict,  whom  ho  dares  not  bind. 

Perhaps,  though  by  i)rofession  ghostly  pure. 

Ho  too  may  have  his  vice,  and  sometimes  prove 

Less  dainty  than  becomes  his  grave  outride 

In  lucrative  concerns.     Examine  well 

His  milk-white  hand  ;  the  palm  is  hardly  clean  — 

But  hero  and  there  an  ugly  smutch  appears. 

Fob  !  't  was  a  bribe  that  loft  it :  he  has  touched 

Corruption.     Whoso  seeks  an  audit  hero 

Propitious,  pays  his  tribute,  game  or  fish, 

Wild  fowl  or  venison  ;  and  his  errand  speeds. 


SPMIIT  A  CCBSB. 


;  BOSTIO  RECBIOT. 


But  faster  far,  and  more  than  all  tho  rest, 
A  noble  cause,  which  none,  who  bears  a  spark 
Of  public  virtue,  ever  wished  removed, 
Works  the  deplored  and  mischievous  effect. 
'T  is  universal  soldiership  has  stabbed 
The  heart  of  merit  in  tho  meaner  class. 
Arms,  through  the  vanity  and  brainless  rage 
Of  those  that  bear  them,  in  whatever  cause, 
Seem  most  at  variance  with  all  moral  good, 
And  incompatible  with  serious  thought. 
The  clown,  the  child  of  nature,  without  guile, 
Blessed  with  an  infant's  ignorance  of  all 
But  his  own  simple  pleasures  ;  now  and  then 
A  wrestling  match,  a  foot-race,  or  a  fair  ; 
Is  ballotted,  and  trembles  at  the  news  : 
Sheepish  he  doifs  his  hat,  and  mumbling  swears 
A  Bible-oath  to  be  whate'er  they  please. 
To  do  he  knows  not  what.     The  task  performed. 
That  instant  he  becomes  the  sergeant's  care, 
His  pupil,  and  his  torment,  and  his  jest. 
His  awkward  gait,  bis  introverted  toes. 
Bent  knees,  round  shoulders,  ond  dejected  looks. 
Procure  him  many  a  curse. 

THE   CLOWN   Tl-BSED   SOLDIEB. 

By  slow  degrees. 
Unapt  to  learn,  and  formed  of  stubborn  stuff, 
He  yet  by  slow  degrees  puts  off  himself. 
Grows  conscious  of  a  change,  and  likes  it  well  : 
He  stands  erect ;  his  slouch  becomes  a  walk  ; 
He  steps  right  onward,  martial  in  his  air. 
His  form  and  movement ;  is  as  smart  above 
As  meal  and  larded  locks  can  make  him  ;  wears 
His  hat,  or  his  plumed  helmet,  with  a  grace  ; 
And,  his  three  years  of  heroship  expired, 
Kcturns  indignant  to  the  slighted  plough. 
He  hates  the  field  in  which  no  fife  or  drum 
Attends  him  ;  drives  his  cattle  to  a  march  ; 
And  sighs  for  tho  smart  comrades  ho  has  left. 
'T  were  well  if  his  exterior  change  were  all  — 
But  with  his  clumsy  port  tho  wretch  has  lost 
His  ignorance  and  1 


To  swear,  to  game,  to  drink  ;  to  show  at  home. 
By  lewdness,  idleness,  and  Sabbath-broach, 
The  great  proficiency  he  made  abroad  ; 
To  astonish  and  to  grieve  his  gazing  friends  ; 
To  break  somo  maiden's  and  his  mother's  heart ; 
To  ho  a  pest  where  ho  was  useful  once  ; 
Are  bis  sole  aim,  and  all  his  glory,  now. 

MAS  IS    TUB  FAMILV   AND  IS  TUB  ABUY.  — A  SIMILB. 

Man  in  society  is  like  a  flower 
Blown  in  its  native  bed  :  't  is  there  alono 
His  faculties,  expanded  in  full  bloom. 
Shine  out ;  there  only  reach  tlieir  proper  use. 
But  man,  associated  and  leagued  with  man 
By  regal  warrant,  or  self-joined  by  bond 
For  interest's  sake,  or  swarming  into  elans 
Beneath  one  bead,  for  purposcji  of  war. 
Like  flowers  selected  from  tho  rest,  and  bound 
And  bundled  close  to  fill  some  crowded  vase, 
Fades  rapidly,  and,  by  compression  marred. 
Contracts  defilement  not  to  bo  endured. 

COBPORATIOSS    N<iT  Sn  r,.N-,^riKS TtOfS  AS  INDIVlDfALS. — 


Hence  ch; 
And  burglu 
In  all  their 
Become  a  l 
For  dissolui 


-lu-h  public  plagues; 
ni-e  combined. 


Against  the  olmnii.-.-.  ..1  .I.Miii>ii>i  life. 
Incorporated  seem  at  once  to  lose 
Their  nature  ;  and,  disclaiming  all  regard 
For  mercy  and  the  common  rights  of  man. 
Build  factories  with  blood,  conducting  trade 
At  the  sword's  point,  and  dying  tho  white  robo 
Of  innocent  commercial  justice  red. 

raE  FIELD  OF    CLOBV    A  SCHOOL. 

Hence  too  the  field  of  glory,  as  the  world 
Misdeems  it,  dazzled  by  its  bright  array. 
With  all  it-<  iinij.  =ty  ,  ft'iu.,-!.  lin-  pomp, 
Enchantin';  nil,  i      ii,i      i  n   i  iil  wreath.^. 
Is  but  a  sell!  ■  '  ill --iiess  is  taught 

On  principle-.  ^'Jnii    iij-jni^  jtuni-s 
For  folly,  galhiiitry  lor  c\ery  vice. 


THE  COUSTBV,  WITH  ALL  ITS  DRAWBACKS,  S 

But  slighted  as  it  is,  and  by  the  great 
Abandoned,  and,  which  I  still  more  regret. 
Infected  with  the  manners  and  the  modes 
It  know  not  once,  the  country  wins  mo  still. 
I  never  framed  a  wish,  or  formed  a  plan, 
That  flattered  me  with  hopes  of  earthly  bliss. 
But  there  I  laid  the  scene.     There  early  strayed 
My  fancy,  ere  yet  liberty  of  choice 
Had  found  me,  or  the  hope  of  being  free. 

CHARMS  OF  RCRAL  POETRY.  —  VIRGIl's  ECLOOCKS.  —  MIl.TO 

My  very  dreams  were  rural  ;  rural  too 
The  first-born  efforts  of  my  youthful  muse. 
Sportive  and  jingling  her  poetic  bells, 


RURAL    POETRY.  ■ 


Ere  yet  her  ear  was  mistress  of  their  powers. 

No  bard  could  please  me  but  whose  lyre  was  tuned 

To  Nature's  praises.     Heroes  and  their  feats 

Fatigued  me,  never  weary  of  the  pipe 

Of  Tityrus,'  assembling,  as  he  sang. 

The  rustic  throng  beneath  his  favorite  beech. 

Then  Milton  had  indeed  a  poet's  charms  : 

New  to  my  taste,  his  Paradise  surpassed 

The  struggling  efforts  of  my  boyish  tongue 

To  speak  its  excellence.     I  danced  for  joy. 

I  marvelled  much  that,  at  so  ripe  an  age 

As  twice  seven  years,  his  beauties  had  then  first 

Engaged  my  wonder  ;  and  admiring  still. 

And  still  admiring,  with  regret  supposed 

The  joy  half  lost,  because  not  sooner  found. 


COWLEY.  —  OHEKTSBT  PLACE. 

There  too,  enamored  of  the  life  I  loved. 
Pathetic  in  its  praise,  in  its  pursuit 
Determined,  and  possessing  it  at  last 
With  transports  such  as  favored  lovers  feel , 
I  studied,  prized,  and  wished  that  I  had  known. 
Ingenious  Cowley  !  and,  though  now  reclaimed 
By  modern  lights  from  an  erroneous  taste, 
I  cannot  but  lament  thy  splendid  wit 
Entangled  in  the  cobwebs  of  the  schools. 
I  still  revere  thee,  courtly  though  retired  ! 
Though  stretched  at  ease  in  Chertsey's  silent  bowers. 
Not  unemployed  ;  and  finding  rich  amends 
For  a  lost  world  in  solitude  and  verse. 

THE   LOVE  OF   NATDRE  A   UNIVERSAL  ENDOWMENT. 

'T  is  born  with  all  :  the  love  of  Nature's  works 
Is  an  ingredient  in  the  compound  man. 
Infused  at  the  creation  of  the  kind. 
And,  though  the  Almighty  Maker  has  throughout 
Discriminated  each  from  each,  by  strokes 
And  touches  of  His  hand,  with  so  much  art 
Diversified,  that  two  were  never  found 
Twins  at  all  points  —  yet  this  obtains  in  all. 
That  all  discern  a  beauty  in  His  works. 
And  ;ilKaii  tastf  tlirni :  minds  that  have  been  formed 
And  tut"ria  with  a  rt'lish  more  exact. 
But  nnTiu  wiilhatt  -iiiiie  relish,  none  unmoved. 
It  i.^  a  tlauiu  that  diu^  nut  even  there, 
AVhere  nothing  feeds  it  :  neither  business,  crowds, 
Nor  habits  of  luxurious  city-life, 
^\■hatever  else  they  smother  of  true  wortli 
In  human  bosoms,  quench  it  or  abate. 


The  villas,  with  which  London  stands  begirt 
Like  a  swarth  Indian,  with  his  belt  of  beads. 
Prove  it.     A  breath  of  unadultcrate  air, 
The  glimpse  of  a  green  pasture,  how  they  chee 
The  citizen,  and  brace  his  languid  frame  ! 
1  A  character  of  the  Bucolics  of  Virgil,  see  p.  15. 


Even  in  the  stifiing  bosom  of  the  town, 

A  garden,  in  which  nothing  thrives,  has  charms 

That  soothe  the  rich  possessor  ;  much  consoled 

That  here  and  there  some  sprigs  of  mournful  mint. 

Of  nightshade,  or  valerian,  grace  the  wall 

He  cultivates.     These  serve  him  with  a  hint 

That  nature  lives  ;  that  sight-refreshing  green 

Is  still  the  livery  she  delights  to  wear. 

Though  sickly  samples  of  the  exuberant  whole. 

AYhat  are  the  casements  lined  with  creeping  herbs, 

The  prouder  sashes  fronted  with  a  range 

Of  orange,  myrtle,  or  the  fragrant  weed, 

The  Frenchman's  darling?  '  are  they  not  all  proofs 

That  man,  immured  in  cities,  still  retains 

His  inborn,  inextinguishable  thirst 

Of  rural  scenes,  compensating  his  loss 

By  supplemental  shifts,  the  best  he  may  ? 

riVATE     SOStE    PLANT    OR 
BROKEN   PITCHER,   WITH 


The  most  unfurnished  with  the  means  of  life. 
And  they  that  never  pass  their  brick-wall  bounds. 
To  range  the  fields,  and  treat  their  lungs  with  air 
Yet  feel  the  burning  instinct :  over  head 
Suspend  their  crazy  boxes,  planted  thick, 
And  watered  duly.     There  the  pitcher  stands 
A  fragment,  and  the  spoutless  teapot  there  ; 
Sad  witnesses  how  close-pent  man  regrets 
The  country,  with  what  ardor  he  contrives 
A  peep  at  nature,  when  he  can  no  more. 


Hail,  therefore,  patroness  of  health  and  eai 
And  contemplation,  heart-consoling  joys. 
And  harmless  pleasures,  in  the  thronged  abm 
Of  multitudes  unknown  ;  hail.  Rural  Life  '. 
Address  himself  who  will  to  the  pursuit 
Of  honors,  or  emolument,  or  fame  ; 
I  shall  not  add  myself  to  such  a  chase. 
Thwart  his  attempts,  or  envy  his  success. 


Some  must  be  great.     Great  offices  will  have 
Great  talents.     And  God  gives  to  every  man 
The  virtue,  temper,  understanding,  taste. 
That  lifts  him  into  life,  and  lets  him  fall 
Just  in  tlio  niche  he  was  ordained  to  fill. 
To  the  deliverer  of  an  injured  land 
He  gives  a  tongue  to  enlarge  upon,  a  heart 
To  feel,  and  courage  to  redress  her  wrongs  ; 
To  monarehs,  dignity  ;  to  judges,  sense  ; 
To  artists,  ingenuity  and  skill  ; 
To  me,  an  unambitious  mind,  content 
In  the  low  vale  of  life,  that  early  felt 
A  wish  for  ease  and  leisure,  and  ere  long 
Found  here  that  leisure  and  that  ease  I  wished. 


■  Mignonette. 


%^;il(;i^   for 


HAMILTON'S   "BRiUJS   OF   YAIUIOW." 

A.  Bi'SKyo,  busk  yo,  my  bonny  bonny  biiilo, 

Busk  yo,  busk  ye,  my  winsome  marrow  ! 
Busk  ye,  busk  yo,  my  bonny  bonny  bride. 
And  tliink  nao  mair  on  tbo  Braes  of  Yarrow. 

B.  Where  gat  yc  that  bonny  bonny  bride  1 

Where  gat  ye  that  winsome  marrow  ? 
^1.  I  gat  her  where  I  darena  weil  bo  seen, 

Pouing  the  birks  on  the  Braes  of  Yarrow. 
Weep  not,  weep  not,  my  bonny  bonny  bride, 
Weep  not,  weep  not,  my  winsome  marrow  ! 
Nor  let  thy  heart  lament  to  leave 

Pouing  the  birks  on  the  Braes  of  Yarrow. 

B.  Why  does  she  weep,  thy  bonny  bonny  bride  ? 

Why  docs  she  weep,  thy  winsome  marrow? 

And  why  daro  ye  nae  mair  weil  bo  seen 

Pouing  the  birks  on  the  Braes  of  Yarrow? 

A.  Lang  maun  she  weep,  lang  maun  she,  maun  she 

Lang  maun  she  weep  with  dulo  and  sorrow, 
And  lang  maun  I  nao  mair  weil  be  seen 

Pouing  the  birks  on  the  Braes  of  Yarrow. 
For  she  has  tint  her  lover  lover  dear, 

Iler  lover  dear,  the  cause  of  sorrow, 
And  I  hae  slain  the  eomeliest  swain 

That  e'er  poued  birks  on  the  Braes  of  Yarrow. 
Why  runs  thy  stream,  0  Yarrow,  Yarrow,  red  ? 

Why  on  thy  braes  heard  the  voice  of  sorrow  ? 
And  why  yon  melancholious  weeds 

Hung  on  the  bonny  birks  of  Yarrow  ? 
What 's  yonder  floats  on  the  rueful  rueful  flude. 

What 's  yonder  floats  ?     0  dule  and  sorrow  ! 
'T  is  he,  the  comely  swain  I  slew 

Upon  the  duleful  Braes  of  Yarrow. 
Wash,  0,  wash  his  wounds,  his  wounds  in  tears, 

His  wounds  in  tears  with  dule  and  sorrow, 
And  wrap  his  limbs  in  mourning  weeds, 

And  lay  him  on  the  Braes  of  Yarrow. 
Then  build,  then  build,  ye  sisters  sisters  sad, 

Ye  sisters  sad,  his  tomb  with  sorrow, 
And  weep  around,  in  wacful  wise. 

His  helpless  fate  on  the  Braes  of  Yarrow. 
Curse  ye,  curse  ye  his  useless  useless  shield, 

My  arm  that  wrought  the  deed  of  sorrow. 
The  Hital  spear  that  pierced  his  breast. 

His  comely  breast,  on  the  Braes  of  Yarrow. 
Bid  I  not  warn  thee,  warn  thee  not  to  lue. 

And  warn  from  fight,  but  to  my  sorrow  ; 
O'er  rashly  bauld,  a  stronger  arm 

Thou  met'st,  and  fell  on  the  Braes  of  Yarrow. 
Sweet  smells  the  birk,  green  grows,  green  grows 

Yellow  on  Yarrow  bank  the  gowan,  [the  grass, 


^♦anu;iri| 


Fair  hangs  the  apple  frao  the  rock, 

Sweet  the  wave  of  Yarrow  flowan. 
Flows  Y'arrow  sweet?  as  sweet,  as  sweet  flows 
Tweed, 

As  green  its  grass,  its  gowan  as  yellow, 
As  sweet  smells  on  its  braes  the  birk. 

The  apple  from  the  rock  as  mellow. 
Fair  was  thy  love,  fair  fair  indeed  thy  love. 

In  flowery  bands  thou  him  didst  fetter  ; 
Though  he  was  fair  and  well-beloved  again, 

Than  me  ho  never  lued  thee  better. 
Busk  ye,  then  busk,  my  bonny  bonny  bride. 

Busk  ye,  busk  ye,  my  winsome  marrow. 
Busk  ye  and  lue  me  on  the  banks  of  Tweed, 

And  think  nae  mair  on  the  Braes  of  Yarrow. 
C.  How  can  I  busk  a  bonny  bonny  bride? 

How  can  I  busk  a  winsome  marrow? 
How  lue  him  on  the  banks  of  Tweed, 

That  slew  my  love  on  the  Braes  of  Yarrow  ? 
0,  Yarrow  fields  !  may  never  never  rain 

Nor  dew  thy  tender  blossom  cover, 
For  there  was  basely  slain  my  love, 

My  love,  as  he  had  not  been  a  lover. 
The  boy  put  on  his  robes,  his  robes  of  green. 

His  purple  vest,  'twas  my  ain  sewing, 
Ah  !  wretched  me  !     I  little  little  kenned 

Ho  was  in  these  to  meet  his  ruin. 
The   boy  took   out  his  milk-white  milk-white 

llnheedful  of  my  dule  and  sorrow. 
But  e'er  the  to-fall  of  the  night. 

He  lay  a  corpse  on  the  Braes  of  Yarrow. 
Much  I  rejoiced  that  waeful  waeful  day  ; 

I  sang,  my  voice  the  woods  returning, 
But  lang  e'er  night  the  spear  was  flown 

That  slew  my  love,  and  left  me  mourning. 
What  can  my  barbarous  barbarous  father  do, 

But  with  his  cruel  rage  pursue  me  ? 
My  lover's  blood  is  on  thy  spear. 

How  canst  thou,  barbarous  man,  then,  woo  me? 
My  happy  sisters  may  be,  may  bo  proud  ; 

With  cruel  and  ungentle  scoflin, 
May  bid  me  seek  in  Yarrow  Braes 

My  lover  nailed  in  his  coflin. 
My  brother  Douglaa  may  upbraid,  upbraid. 

And  strive  with  threatening  words  to  move 

My  lover's  blood  is  on  thy  spear. 

How  canst  thou  ever  bid  me  love  thee  ? 

Yes,  yes,  prepare  the  bed,  the  bed  of  love, 
With  bridal  sheets  my  body  cover. 

Unbar,  ye  bridal  maids,  the  door. 
Let  in  the  expected  husband-lover. 


466 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  HAMILTON 


But  who  the  expected  husband,  husband  is  ! 

His  hands,  methiuks,  are  bathed  in  slaughter. 
Ah,  me  !  what  ghastly  spectre 's  yon, 

Comes  in  his  pale  shroud,  bleeding  after  ? 
Pale  as  he  is,  here  lay  him,  lay  him  down, 

0,  lay  his  cold  head  on  my  pillow  ; 
Take  aff,  take  aff  these  bridal  weeds. 

And  crown  my  care-full  head  with  willow. 
Pale  though  thou  art,  yet  best,  yet  best  beloved, 

0,  could  my  warmth  to  life  restore  thee  ! 


Ye  'd  lie  all  night  between  my  breasts, 

No  youth  lay  ever  there  before  thee. 
Pale,  pal."  iwlovA,  0  lovely,  lovely  youth, 

Foi-ivr,  f.^i^i^,.  ,-,,  i,,ui  a  slaughter, 
And  II''  ;iil  iii,-lit  l.rtw.-cn  my  breasts, 

Nu  yniitJi  shall  cvi-r  lie  there  after. 
Return,  return,  0  mournful,  mournful  bridt 

Return  and  dry  thy  useless  sorrow  : 
Thy  lover  heeds  naught  of  thy  sighs. 

He  lies  a  corpse  on  the  Braes  of  Yarrow. 


1)1111111    of   liraise  for   |anuari). 


COLERIDGE'S  "MONT  BLANC 


A    Hl-MN  BEFORE 

Hast  thou  a  charm  to  stay  the  morning  star 
In  his  steep  course  ?     So  long  he  seems  to  pause 
On  thy  bald  awful  head,  0  sovran  Blanc  ! 
The  Arve  and  Arveiron  at  thy  base 
Rave  ceaselessly  ;  but  thou,  most  awful  form  ! 
Risest  from  forth  thy  silent  sea  of  pines. 
How  silently  !     Around  thee  and  above. 
Deep  is  the  air  and  dark,  substantial,  black, 
An  ebon  mass  ;  methinks  thou  piercest  it, 
As  with  a  wedge  !     But  when  I  look  again. 
It  is  thine  own  calm  home,  thy  crystal  shrine, 
Thy  habitation  from  eternity  ! 

0  dread  and  silent  mount !  I  gazed  upon  thee. 
Till  thou,  still  present  to  the  bodily  sense. 

Didst  vanish  from  my  thought:  entranced  in  prayer, 

1  worshipped  the  Invisible  alone. 

Yet  like  some  sweet  beguiling  melody. 
So  sweet  we  know  not  we  are  listening  to  it, 
Thou, the  meanwhile,  wast  blending  with  my  thought, 
Yea,  with  my  life  and  life's  own  secret  joy  ; 
Till  the  dilating  soul,  enrapt,  transfused, 
Into  the  mighty  vision  passing  there, 
As  in  her  natural  form,  swelled  vast  to  heaven  ! 

Awake,  my  soul  !  not  only  passive  praise 
Thou  owest  !  not  alone  these  swelling  tears, 
Mute  thanks,  and  secret  ecstasy.     Awake, 
Voice  of  sweet  song  !  awake,  my  heart,  awake  ! 
Green  vales  and  icy  cliffs,  all  join  my  hymn. 
Thou  first  and  chief,  sole  sovran  of  the  vale  ! 
0,  struggling  with  the  darkness  all  the  night. 
And  visited  all  night  by  troops  of  stars. 
Or  when  they  climb  the  sky,  or  when  they  sink  ! 
Companion  of  the  morning  etar  at  dawn. 
Thyself  earth's  rosy  star,  and  of  the  dawn 
Co-herald  !  wake,  0,  wake,  and  utter  praise  ! 
Who  sank  thy  sunless  pillars  deep  in  earth  ? 
Who  filled  thy  countenance  with  rosy  light? 
Who  made  thee  parent  of  perpetual  streams? 

And  you,  ye  five  wild  torrents  fiercely  glad  ! 
Who  called  you  forth  from  night  and  utter  death, 
From  dark  and  icy  caverns  called  you  forth, 
Down  those  precipitous,  black,  jagged  rocks, 


Forever  shattered,  and  the  same  forever? 

Who  gave  you  your  invulnerable  life, 

Your  strength,  your  speed,  your  fury,  and  your  joy, 

Unceasing  thunder,  and  eternal  foam  ? 

And  who  commanded  (and  the  silence  came). 

Here  let  the  billows  stiffen  and  have  rest  ? 

Ye  ice-falls  !  ye  that  from  the  mountain's  brow 
Adown  enormous  ravines  slope  amain  — 
Torrents,  methinks,  that  heard  a  mighty  voice, 
And  stopped  at  once  amid  their  maddest  plunge  ! 
Motionless  torrents  !  silent  cataracts  ! 
Who  made  you  glorious  as  the  gates  of  heaven 
Beneath  the  keen  full  moon  ?     Who  bade  the  sun 
Clothe  you   with    rainbows?       Who,   with    living 

flowers 
Of  loveliest  blue,  spread  garlands  at  your  feet? 
God  !  let  the  torrents,  like  a  shout  of  nations. 
Answer  !  and  let  the  ice-plains  echo,  God  ! 
God!  sing,  ye  meadow-streams,  with  gladsome  voice! 
Ye  pine-groves,  with  your  soft  and  soul-like  sounds  ! 
And  they,  too,  have  a  voice,  yon  piles  of  snow. 
And  in  their  perilous  fall  shall  thunder,  God  ! 

Ye  living  flowers  that  skirt  the  eternal  frost ! 
Ye  wild  goats  sporting  round  the  eagle's  nest ! 
Ye  eagles,  playmates  of  the  mountain  storm  ! 
Ye  lightnings,  the  dread  arrows  of  the  clouds  ! 
Ye  signs  and  wonders  of  the  elements  ! 
Utter  forth  God,  and  fill  the  hills  with  praise  ! 

Once  more,  hoar  mount  !  with  thy  sky-pointing 
peaks. 
Oft  from  whose  feet  the  avalanche,  xmheard. 
Shoots  downward,  glittering  through  the  pure  serene, 
Into  the  depth  of  clouds  that  veil  thy  breast  — 
Thou  too,  again,  stupendous  mountain  !  thou, 
That  as  I  raise  my  head,  a  while  bowed  low 
In  adoration,  upward  from  thy  base, 
Slow  travelling,  with  dim  eyes  suffused  with  tears. 
Solemnly  seemest,  like  a  vapory  cloud. 
To  rise  before  me  —  Rise,  0,  ever  rise  ; 
Rise,  like  a  cloud  of  incense,  from  the  earth  ! 
Thou  kingly  spirit  throned  among  the  hills. 
Thou  dread  ambassador  from  earth  to  heaven, 
Great  Hierarch  !  tell  thou  the  silent  sky, 
And  tell  the  stars,  and  tell  yon  rising  sun, 
Earth,  with  her  thousand  voices,  praises  God. 


SDSRISE  IS  WISTER. 

'T  IS  morning  j  and  the  sun,  with  ruddy  orb 
Ascending,  fires  tho  horizon  ;  while  the  clouds, 
Tbat  crowd  awny  before  tho  driving  wind. 
More  ardent  as  tho  disk  emerges  more, 
Roscmble  most  some  city  in  a  blaze, 
Seen  through  tho  Icnflcss  wood.  His  slanting  ray 
Slides  ineffectual  down  tho  snowy  vale. 
And,  tinging  all  with  his  own  rosy  hue. 
From  every  herb  and  every  spiry  blade 
Stretches  a  length  of  shadow  o'er  the  field. 


Mine,  spindling  into  longitude  immense, 
In  spite  of  gravity,  and  sage  remark 
That  I  myself  am  but  a  fleeting  shade. 
Provokes  me  to  a  smile.     With  eye  askance 
I  view  the  muscular  proportioned  limb 
Transformed  to  a  lean  shank.     The  shapeless 
As  they  designed  to  mock  me,  at  my  side 
Take  step  for  step  ;  and,  as  I  near  approach 
The  cottage,  walk  along  the  plastered  wall. 
Preposterous  sight !  the  logs  without  the  man 

THE  JKWKLLKD  MASTLB  OF  i 

The  verdure  of  tho  plain  lies  buried  deep 

Beneath  the  dainling  deluge  ;  and  tho  bent-i. 

And  coarser  grass,  upspcaring  o'er  tho  rest. 

Of  late  unsightly  and  unseen. 

Conspicuous,  and  in  bright  apparel  clad. 

And,  fledged  with  icy  feathers,  nod  superb. 

CATTI-E  IS  WISTEB.  —  PATIKSCE.  —  OCT-DOna  FODDKKl! 

Tho  cattle  mourn  in  corners,  whore  the  fence 
Screens  them,  and  seem  half  petrified  to  sleep 
In  unrccumbont  sadness.     There  they  wait 
Their  wonted  fodder  ;  not  like  hungering  man, 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  COWPER. 


Fretful  if  unsupplied  ;  but  silent,  meek, 
And  patient  of  the  slow-paced  swain's  delay. 
He  from  the  stack  carves  out  the  accustomed  load. 
Deep-plunging,  and  again  deep-plunging,  oft. 
His  broad,  keen  knife  into  the  solid  mass  ; 
Smooth  as  a  wall  the  upright  remnant  stands, 
With  such  undeviating  and  even  force 
He  severs  it  away  ;  no  needless  care, 
Lest  storms  should  overset  the  leaning  pile 
Deciduous,  or  its  own  unbalanced  weight. 


GOING  TO  THE  WOOD. — mS  DOG. — BIS  PIPE. 

Forth  goes  the  woodman,  leaving  unconcerned 
The  cheerful  haunts  of  man  ;   to  wield  the  axe 
And  drive  the  wedge,  in  yonder  forest  drear. 
From  morn  to  eve  his  solitary  task. 
Shaggy,  and  lean,  and  shrewd,  with  pointed  ears, 
And  tail  cropped  short,  half  lurcher  and  half  our, 
His  dog  attends  him.     Close  behind  his  heel 
Now  creeps  he  slow  ;  and  now,  with  many  a  frisk 
Wide  scampering,  snatches  up  the  drifted  snow 
With  ivory  teeth,  or  ploughs  it  with  his  snout  ; 
Then  shakes  his  powdered  coat,  and  barks  for  joy. 
Heedless  of  all  his  pranks,  tho  sturdy  churl 
Moves  right  toward  the  mark  ;  nor  stops  for  aught. 
But  now  and  then  with  pressure  of  his  thumb 
To  adjust  the  fragrant  charge  of  a  short  tube. 
That  fumes  beneath  his  nose  :  the  trailing  cloud 
Streams  far  behind  him,  scenting  all  the  air. 

FEEDING  OF   PODLTRT  IN  i  WI.ITEB'S   MORNING. —SPiREOWS. 
—  THE   COOK. 

Now  from  the  roost,  or  from  the  neighboring  pale, 
Where,  diligent  to  catch  the  first  faint  gleam 
Of  smiling  day,  they  gossiped  side  by  side. 
Come  trooping  at  the  housewife's  well-known  call 
The  feathered  tribes  domestic.     Half  on  wing, 
And  half  on  foot,  they  brush  the  fleecy  flood, 
Conscious,  and  fearful  of  too  deep  a  plunge. 
The  sparrows  peep,  and  quit  the  sheltering  eaves. 
To  seize  the  fair  occasion  ;  well  they  eye 
The  scattered  grain,  and,  thievishly  resolved 
To  escape  the  impending  famine,  often  scared, 
As  oft  return,  a  pert  voracious  kind. 
Clean  riddance  quickly  made,  one  only  care 
Remainsito  each,  the  search  of  sunny  nook. 
Or  shed  impervious  to  the  blast.     Resigned 
To  sad  necessity,  the  cock  foregoes 
His  wonted  strut  ;  and,  wading  at  their  head 
With  well-considered  steps,  seems  to  resent 
His  altered  gait  and  stateliness  retrenched. 


How  find  the  myriads,  that  in  summer  cheer 
Tho  hills  and  valleys  with  their  ceaseless  songs. 
Due  sustenance,  or  where  subsist  they  now  ? 
Earth  yields  them  naught ;  the  imprisoned  worm  is 
Beneath  the  frozen  clod;  all  seeds  of  herbs       [safe 
Lie  covered  close  ;  and  berry-bearing  thorns. 
That  feed  the  thrush  (whatever  some  suppose), 
Afford  the  smaller  minstrels  no  supply. 


The  long-protracted  rigor  of  the  year 

Thins  all  their  numerous  flocks.   In  chinks  and  holes 

Ten  thousand  seek  an  unmolested  end. 

As  instinct  prompts  ;  self-buried  ere  they  die. 


The  very  rooks  and  daws  forsake  tho  fields, 
Where  neither  grub,  nor  root,  nor  earth-nut,  now 
Repays  their  labor  more  ;  and  perched  aloft 
By  the  wayside,  or  stalking  in  the  path. 
Lean  pensioners  upon  the  traveller's  track. 
Pick  up  their  nauseous  dole,  though  sweet  to  them. 
Of  voided  pulse,  or  half-digested  grain. 


The  streams  are  lost  amid  the  splendid  blank, 
O'erwhelming  all  distinction.     On  the  flood, 
Indurated  and  fl.icd,  the  snowy  weight 
Lies  undissolved  ;  while  silently  beneath, 
And  unperceived,  the  current  steals  away. 
Not  so  where,  scornful  of  a  check,  it  leaps 
The  mill-dam,  dashes  on  the  restless  wheel. 
And  wantons  in  the  pebbly  gulf  below  : 
No  frost  can  bind  it  there  ;   its  utmost  force 
Can  but  arrest  the  light  and  smolsy  mist. 
That  in  its  fall  the  liquid  sheet  throws  wide. 


And  see  where  it  has  hung  the  embroidered  banks 
With  forms  so  various,  that  no  powers  of  art. 
The  pencil  or  the  pen,  may  trace  the  scene  ! 
Here  glittering  turrets  rise,  upbearing  high 
(Fantastic  misarrangement !)  on  the  roof 
Large  growth  of  what  may  seem  tho  sparkling  trees 
And  shrubs  of  fairy  land.     The  cry.stal  drops, 
That  trickle  down  the  branches,  fast  congealed. 
Shoot  into  pillars  of  pellucid  length. 
And  prop  the  pile  they  but  adorned  before. 
Here  grotto  within  grotto  safe  defies 
The  sunbeam  ;  there,  embossed  and  fretted  wild. 
The  growing  wonder  takes  a  thousand  shapes 
Capricious,  in  which  fancy  seeks  in  vain 
The  likeness  of  some  object  seen  before. 

THE   EMPRESS  OF   BCSSIA. 

Thus  nature  works  as  if  to  mock  at  art. 
And  in  defiance  of  her  rival  powers  ; 
By  these  fortuitous  and  random  strokes 
Performing  such  inimitable  feats. 
As  she  with  all  her  rules  can  never  reach. 
Less  worthy  of  applause,  though  more  admired, 
Because  a  novelty,  the  work  of  man, 
Imperial  mistress  of  the  fur-clad  Russ, 
Thy  most  magnificent  and  mighty  freak, 
The  wonder  of  tho  north. 

TEE  PALACE  OF   ICE.  —  ARIST«D3,  OTBENE. 

No  forest  fell. 
When  thou  wouldst  build  ;  no  quarry  sent  its  stores 
To  enrich  thy  walls  ;  but  thou  didst  hew  the  floods, 
And  make  thy  marble  of  the  glassy  wave. 


WINTER  —  FEBRUARY. 


469 


In  such  ft  palaco  Aristiciis '  found 
Cyrone,  when  he  bore  the  plaintive  tale 
Of  his  lost  beos  to  her  maternal  ear  : 
In  such  ft  palace  poetry  might  place 
The  armory  of  winter  ;  whore  his  troops, 
The  gloomy  clouds,  find  weapons,  arrowy  sleet, 
Skin-pioroing  volley,  blossom-bruising  hail. 
And  snow,  that  often  blinds  the  traveller's  course. 
And  wraps  him  in  an  unexpected  tomb. 


Silently  as  a  dream  the  fabric  rose  ; 
No  sound  of  hammer  or  of  saw  was  there  : 
Ice  upon  ice,  the  well-adjusted  parts 
Were  soon  conjoined,  nor  other  cement  asked 
Than  water  interfused  to  make  them  one. 
Lamps  gracefully  disposed,  and  of  all  hues, 
Illumined  every  side  ;  a  watery  light  [seemed 

Gleamed    through    the    clear    transparency,    that 
Another  moon  new  risen,  or  meteor  fallen 
From  heaven  to  earth,  of  lambent  flame  serene. 
So  stood  the  brittle  prodigy  ;  though  smooth 
And  slippery  the  materials,  yet  frost-bound 
Firm  as  a  rock. 

FntN-ITCRE   OF   TilB   ICE   PALACE 

Nor  wanted  aught  within. 
That  royal  residence  might  well  befit. 
For  grandeur  or  for  use.  Long  wavy  wreaths 
Of  flowers,  that  feared  no  enemy  but  warmth, 
Blushed  on  the  pannels.  Mirror  needed  none 
Where  all  was  vitreous  ;  but  in  order  due 
Convivial  table  and  commodious  seat  [there  • 

(AVhat    seemed,  at   least,  commodious   seat)    were 
Sofa,  and  couch,  and  high-built  throne  august. 
The  same  lubricity  was  found  in  all. 
And  all  was  moist  to  the  warm  touch  :  a  scene 
Of  evanescent  glory,  once  a  stream. 
And  soon  to  slide  into  a  stream  again. 

MORAL  OP  TOE  ICE  PALACE. 

Alas  !  't  was  but  a  mortifying  stroke 
Of  undesigned  severity,  that  glanced 
(.Made  by  a  monarch)  on  her  own  estate, 
On  human  grandeur,  and  the  courts  of  kings. 
'T  was  transient  in  its  nature,  as  in  show 
'T  was  durable  ;  as  worthless,  as  it  seemed 
Intrinsically  precious  ;  to  the  foot 
Treacherous  and  false  j  it  smiled,  and  it  was  cold. 

ROVAL  PLATTBINOS.  —  WAR. 

Great  princes  have  great  playthings.    Some  have 
At  hewing  mountains  into  men,  and  some     [played 
At  building  human  wonders  mountain-high. 
Some  have  amused  the  dull,  sad  years  of  life 
(Life  spent  in  indolence,  and  therefore  sad) 
With  schemes  of  monumental  fame  ;  and  sought 
By  pyramids  and  mansolean  pomp, 
Short-lived  themselves,  to  immortalize  their  bones. 

I  See  Georgic  IV.  of  Virgil,  pp,  236,  236. 


Some  seek  diversion  in  the  tented  field. 
And  make  the  sorrows  of  mankind  their  sport. 
But  war's  a  game,  which,  were  their  subject!  wise. 
Kings  would  not  play  at.     Nations  would  do  well 
T'  e.xtort  their  truncheons  from  the  puny  hands 
Of  heroes,  whoso  infirm  and  baby  minds 
Are  gratified  with  mischief  ;  and  who  spoil 
Because  men  suffer  it,  their  toy  the  world. 

OOD  ASSIQNED  THE  NATIONS  TUEIR  PLACES. 

When  Babel  was  confounded,  and  the  great 
Confederacy  of  projectors  wild  and  vain 
M'as  split  into  diversity  of  tongues, 
Then,  as  a  shepherd  separates  his  flock. 
These  to  tho  upland,  to  the  valley  those, 
God  dravo  asunder,  and  assigned  their  lot 
To  all  the  nations.     Ample  was  the  boon 
lie  gave  them,  in  its  distribution  fair 
And  equal  ;  and  He  bade  them  dwell  in  peace. 
Peace  was  a  while  their  earo  :   they  ploughed,  and 

And  reaped  their  plenty  without  grudge  or  strife. 
But  violence  can  never  longer  sleep 
Than  human  passions  please. 


In  every  heart 
Are  sown  the  sparks  that  kindle  fiery  war  ; 
Occasion  needs  but  fan  them,  and  they  blaze. 
Cain  had  already  shed  a  brother's  blood  : 
Tho  Deluge  washed  it  out  ;  but  left  unqucnchod 
The  seeds  of  murder  in  the  breast  of  man. 
Soon,  by  a  righteous  judgment,  in  tho  line 
Of  his  descending  progeny  was  found 
The  first  artificer  of  death  ;  the  shrewd 
Contriver,  who  first  sweated  at  the  forge. 
And  forced  the  blunt  and  yet  unbloodied  steel 
To  a  keen  edge,  and  made  it  bright  for  war. 
Ilim,  Tubal  named,  the  Vulcan  of  old  times. 
The  sword  and  falcliion  their  inventor  claim  ; 
And  the  first  smith  was  the  first  murderer's  son. 

COVETOCSSKSS  TUS  MOTHER  OF   WAR. 

His  art  survived  the  waters  ;  and  ere  long. 
When  man  was  multiplied,  and  spread  abroad 
In  tribes  and  clans,  and  had  begun  to  call 
Those  meadows  and  that  range  of  hills  his  own. 
The  tasted  sweets  of  property  begat 
Desire  of  more  ;  and  industry  in  some. 
To  improve  and  cultivate  their  just  demesne. 
Made  others  covet  what  they  saw  so  fair. 
Thus  war  began  on  earth  :  these  fought  for  spoil, 
And  those  in  self-defence. 

ORIOra  OF  MILrTART  CmEFTAIXSniP. 

Savage  at  first 
The  onset,  and  irregular.     At  length 
One  eminent  above  the  rest  for  strength, 
For  stratagem,  for  courage,  or  for  all. 
Was  chosen  lender  ;  him  they  servc<l  in  war. 
And  him  in  ponce,  for  sake  of  warlike  deeds 


470 


RURAL    POETRY. 


Reverenced  no  less.   AVho  could  with  him  compare  i 

Or  who  so  worthy  to  control  themselves, 

Ashe,  whose  prowess  had  subdued  their  foes? 

Thus  war,  affording  field  for  the  display 

Of  virtue,  made  one  chief,  whom  times  of  peace, 

"Which  have  their  exigencies  too,  and  call 

For  skill  in  government,  at  length  made  king. 

ACCOUNT    OF    THE    INVENTION     OF     KINGS     ANE 


King  was  a  name  too  proud  for  man  to  wear 
With  modesty  and  meekness  ;  and  the  crown. 
So  dazzling  in  their  eyes,  who  set  it  on. 
Was  sure  t'  intoxicate  the  brows  it  bound. 
It  is  the  abject  property  of  most, 
That,  being  parcel  of  the  common  mass. 
And  destitute  of  means  to  raise  themselves. 
They  sink,  and  settle  lower  than  they  need. 
They  know  not  what  it  is  to  feel  within 
A  comprehensive  faculty,  that  grasps 
Great  purposes  with  ease,  that  turns  and  wields. 
Almost  without  an  effort,  plans  too  vast 
For  their  conception,  which  they  cannot  move. 


Conscious  of  impotence,  they  soon  grow  drunk 
With  gazing  when  they  see  an  able  man 
Step  forth  to  notice  ;  and,  besotted  thus. 
Build  him  a  pedestal,  and  say,  '  Stand  there, 
And  be  our  admiration  and  our  praise.' 
They  roll  themselves  before  him  in  the  dust, 
Then  most  deserving  in  their  own  account. 
When  most  extravagant  in  his  applause. 
As  if  exalting  him  they  raised  themselves. 
Thus,  by  degrees,  self-cheated  of  their  sound 
And  sober  judgment,  that  he  is  but  man, 
They  demi-deify  and  fume  him  so. 
That  in  due  season  he  forgets  it  too. 

THE  FHIL-FLEDGED  ADTOCBAT.  —  CONQDERORS. 

Inflated  and  astrut  with  self-conceit, 
He  gulps  the  windy  diet  ;  and,  ere  long, 
Adopting  their  mistake,  profoundly  thinks 
The  world  was  made  in  vain,  if  not  for  him. 
Thenceforth  they  are  his  cattle  ;  drudges,  born 
To  bear  his  burdens,  drawing  in  his  gears, 
And  sweating  in  his  service,  his  caprice 
Becomes  the  soul  that  animates  them  all. 
He  deems  a  thousand  or  ten  thousand  lives, 
Spent  in  the  purchase  of  renown  for  him, 
An  easy  reckoning  ;  and  they  think  the  same. 
Thus  kings  were  first  invented,  and  thus  kings 
Were  burnished  into  heroes,  and  became 
The  arbiters  of  this  terraqueous  swamp  ; 
Storks  among  frogs,  that  have  but  croaked  and  died. 


Even  in  the  cradled  weakness  of  the  world  ! 
Still  stranger  much,  that  when  at  length  mankind 
Had  reached  the  sinewy  firmness  of  their  youth. 
And  could  discriminate  and  argue  well 
On  subjects  more'  mysterious,  they  were  yet 
Babes  in  the  cause  of  freedom,  and  should  fear 
And  quake  before  the  gods  themselves  had  made  : 
But  above  measure  strange,  that  neither  proof 
Of  sad  experience,  nor  examples  set 
By  some,  whose  patriot  virtue  has  prevailed. 
Can  even  now,  when  they  are  grown  mature 
In  wisdom,  and  with  philosophic  deeds 
Familiar,  serve  to  emancipate  the  rest ! 


Strange,  that  such  folly,  as  lifts  bloated  i 
To  eminence  fit  only  for  a  god. 
Should  ever  drivel  out  of  human  lips. 


Such  dupes  are  men  to  custom,  and  so  prone 
To  reverence  what  is  ancient,  and  can  plead 
A  course  of  long  observance  for  its  use. 
That  even  servitude,  the  worst  of  ills, 
Because  delivered  down  from  sire  to  son, 
Is  kept  and  guarded  as  a  sacred  thing. 
But  is  it  fit,  or  can  it  bear  the  shock 
Of  rational  discussion,  that  a  man. 
Compounded  and  made  up  like  other  men 
Of  elements  tumultuous,  in  whom  lust 
And  folly  in  as  ample  measure  meet. 
As  in  the  bosoms  of  the  slaves  he  rules, 
Should  be  a  despot  absolute,  and  boast 
Himself  the  only  freeman  of  his  land  ? 
Should,  when  he  pleases,  and  on  whom  he  will, 
Wage  war,  with  any  or  with  no  pretence 
Of  provocation  given,  or  wrong  sustained. 
And  force  the  beggarly  last  doit,  by  means 
That  his  own  humor  dictates,  from  the  clutch 
Of  poverty,  that  thus  he  may  procure 
His  thousands,  weary  of  penurious  life, 
A  splendid  opportunity  to  die  ? 


Say  ye,  who  (with  less  prudence  than  of  old 
Jotham  ascribed  to  his  assembled  trees 
In  politic  convention)  put  your  trust 
In  the  shadow  of  a  bramble,  and  recline 
In  fancied  peace  beneath  his  dangerous  branch, 
Kejoice  in  him,  and  celebrate  his  sway. 
Where  find  ye  passive  fortitude?     Whence  springs 
Your  self-denying  zeal,  that  holds  it  good 
To  stroke  the  prickly  grievance,  and  to  hang 
His  thorns  with  streamers  of  continual  praise  ? 


AVe  too  are  friends  to  loyalty.     We  love 
The  king,  who  loves  the  law,  respects  his  bounds, 
And  reigns  content  within  them  :  him  we  servo 
Freely  and  with  delight,  who  leaves  us  free  ; 
But,  recollecting  still  that  he  is  man. 
Wo  trust  him  not  too  far.     King  though  he  be. 
And  king  in  England  too,  he  may  be  weak 
And  vain  enough  to  be  ambitious  still ; 
May  exercise  amiss  his  proper  powers. 


WINTER  —  FEBRUARY. 


471 


dr  covet  more  than  frcomon  ohoOBO  to  grant : 
Uoyond  that  mark  is  treason.     Ho  is  oars, 
To  administer,  to  guard,  to  adorn,  the  state, 
lint  not  to  warp  or  change  it.     We  aro  his, 
To  serve  bim  nobly  in  the  common  cause, 
Truo  to  the  death,  but  not  to  be  his  slaves. 


Mark  now  the  difference,  yo  that  boast  your  lovo 
Of  kings,  between  your  loyalty  and  ours. 
Wo  lovo  the  man,  the  paltry  pageant  you  : 
We  the  chief  patron  of  the  commonwealth, 
You  tho  regardless  author  of  its  woes  : 
We,  for  tho  sake  of  liberty,  a  king  ; 
You  chains  of  bondage  for  a  tyrant's  sake. 
Our  love  is  principle,  and  has  its  root 
In  reason,  is  judicious,  manly,  free  ; 
Yours,  a  blind  instinct,  crouches  to  the  rod. 
And  licks  the  foot  that  treads  it  in  the  dust. 
Were  kingship  as  true  treasure  as  it  seems, 
Sterling,  and  worthy  of  a  wise  man's  wish, 
I  would  not  be  a  king  to  bo  beloved 
Causeless,  and  daubed  with  undiscerning  praise, 
Where  love  is  mere  attachment  to  the  throne. 
Not  to  the  man  who  fills  it  as  he  ought. 

Tia'E  FREEDOM. — STRUGGLE3  FOB  LIBERTY. 

Whose  freedom  is  by  sufferance,  and  at  will 
Of  a  superior,  he  is  never  free. 
Who  lives,  and  is  not  weary  of  a  life 
Exposed  to  manacles,  deserves  them  well. 
The  state  that  strives  for  liberty,  though  foiled, 
And  forced  to  abandon  what  she  bravely  sought, 
Deserves  at  leost  applause  for  her  attempt. 
And  pity  for  her  loss.     But  that 's  a  cause 
Not  often  unsuccessful  :  power  usurped 
Is  wcaknc=?  when  opposed  :  conscious  of  wrong. 


'Tisi.n.in.ml 

11  11-  nibl  prone  to  flight. 

But>h 

-.rive  the  glowing  thought 

Oflr..   1 

■    i:    ,   i .    itsolf  possess 

All  thai    III- 

..,1.    1  inll^  lur;  spirit,  strength. 

The  scorn  ..f, 

auger,  and  united  hearts  : 

The  surest  presage  of  the  good  they  seek." 


Then  shame  to  manhood,  and  opprobrious  more 
To  France  than  all  her  losses  and  defeats. 
Old  or  of  later  date,  by  sea  or  land, 
Her  house  of  bondage,  worse  than  that  of  old 
Which  God  avenged  on  Pharaoh  —  tho  Bastilo. 
Ye  horrid  towers,  the  abode  of  broken  hearts  ; 
Ye  dungeons,  and  ye  cages  of  despair. 
That  monarchs  have  supplied  from  age  to  ago 
With  music,  such  as  suits  their  sovereign  oars, 
The  sighs  and  groons  of  miserable  men  ! 
There  's  not  an  English  heart  that  would  not  leap 
To  hear  that  ye  were  fallen  at  last ;  to  know 

1  The  author  hopes  tlint  he  shall  i 

tessary  w        ' 
aware  that  i 

such  sentiments  m  no  better  than  empty  t 
it  is  an  ill  symptom,  and  pecnliar  ( 


That  oven  our  enemies,  so  oft  employed 

In  forging  chains  for  us,  themselves  wore  free. 

For  ho  who  values  liberty  confines 

His  7.eal  for  her  predominance  within 

No  narrow  bounds  ;  her  cause  engages  him 

Wherever  pleaded.     'T  is  tho  cause  of  man. 

THE  PRISONER  OF  TUB  BASTILB. 

There  dwell  the  most  forlorn  of  human  kind, 
Immured  though  unaccused,  condemned  untried. 
Cruelly  spared,  and  hopeless  of  escape. 
There,  like  the  visionary  emblem  seen 
By  him  of  Babylon,  life  stonds  n  stump. 
And,  filleted  about  with  hoops  of  brass. 
Still  lives,  though  all  his  pleasant  boughs  aro  gone. 
To  count  tho  hour-bell,  and  expect  no  change  ; 
And  over,  ns  tli-  •nll-n  -'"nd  U  heard. 
Still  to  retlr.t,  \<.:,t  th.  n-li  a  .j-'vlcss  note 
Tohim,  wh...   11,  in. -1    all  lii.vL- one  dull  pace. 
Ten  thou.«aiia  i"\r,<  in  tli.   u^rM  at  largo 
Account  it  music  ;   that  it  summons  some 
To  theatre,  or  jocund  feast,  or  ball  : 
Tho  wearied  hireling  finds  it  a  release 
From  labor  ;  and  tho  lover,  who  has  chid 
Its  long  delay,  feels  every  welcome  stroke 
Upon  his  heart-strings,  trembling  with  delight  ;  — 
To  fly  for  refuge  from  distracting  thought 
To  such  amusements  as  ingenious  woe 
Contrives  hard-shifting,  and  without  her  tools  ;  — 
To  read  engraven  on  the  mouldy  walls. 
In  staggering  types,  his  predecessor's  tale, 
A  sad  memorial,  and  subjoin  his  own  ;  — 
To  turn  purveyor  to  an  over-gorged 
And  bloated  spider,  till  the  pampered  pest 
Is  made  familiar,  watches  his  approach. 
Comes  at  his  call,  and  serves  him  for  a  friend  ;  — 
To  wear  out  time  in  numbering  to  and  fro 
Tho  studs,  that  thick  emboss  his  iron  door  ; 
Then  downward  and  then  upward,  then  aslant 
And  then  alternate  ;  with  a  sickly  hope 
By  dint  of  change  to  give  his  tasteless  task 
Some  relish  ;  till,  the  sum  exactly  found 
In  all  directions,  he  begins  again. 


0  comfortless  existence  !  hemmed  around 

With  woes,  which  who  that  suffers  would  not  kneel 
And  bog  for  exile,  or  the  pangs  of  death? 
That  man  should  thus  encroach  on  fellow-man. 
Abridge  him  of  his  just  and  native  rights. 
Eradicate  him,  tear  him  from  his  hold 
Upon  tho  endearments  of  domestic  life 
And  social,  nip  his  fruitfulness  and  use, 
And  doom  him  for  perhaps  a  heedless  word 
To  barrenness,  and  solitude,  and  tears. 
Moves  indignation  ;  makes  the  name  of  king 
(Of  king  whom  such  prerogative  can  please) 
As  dreadful  as  the  Manichcan  god,' 
Adored  through  fear,  strong  only  to  destroy. 

1  The  Manichcan  sect,  nnme<l  for  their  founder  Manes, 
In  the  third  century,  adored  a  dual  deity,  maile  up  of  the 
principle  of  good  and  the  |irlnciple  of  evil. 


RURAL    POETRY. COWPER. 


LIFE  WITHOUT  LIBERTY  A  BURTHEN.  —  DSE  OF    FREEDOM. 

'T  is  liberty  alone  that  gives  the  flower 
Of  fleeting  life  its  lustre  and  perfume  ; 
And  we  are  weeds  without  it.     All  constraint, 
Except  what  wisdom  lays  on  evil  men, 
Is  evil  :  hurts  the  faculties,  impedes 
Their  progress  in  the  road  of  science  ;  blinds 
The  eyesight  of  discovery  ;  and  begets 
In  those  that  suffer  it  a  sordid  mind 
Bestial,  a  meagre  intellect,  unfit 
To  be  the  tenant  of  man's  noble  form. 
Thee  therefore  still,  blame-worthy  as  thou  art. 
With  all  thy  loss  of  empire,  and  though  squeezed 
By  public  exigence  till  annual  food 
Fails  for  the  craving  hunger  of  the  state. 
Thee  I  account  still  happy,  and  the  chief 
Among  the  nations,  seeing  thou  art  free  ; 
My  native  nook  of  earth  ! 

THE  CLIMATE  AND  MANNERS  OF    BRITAIN.  —  FRENCH  POLITE 

Thy  clime  is  rude. 
Replete  with  vapors,  and  disposes  much 
All  hearts  to  sadness,  and  none  more  than  mine  : 
Thine  unadulterate  manners  are  less  soft 
And  plausible  than  social  life  requires. 
And  thou  hast  need  of  discipline  and  art. 
To  give  thee  what  politer  France  receives 
From  nature's  bounty  —  that  humane  address 
And  sweetness,  without  which  no  pleasure  is 
In  converse,  either  starved  by  cold  reserve. 
Or  flushed  with  fierce  dispute,  a  senseless  brawl. 
Yet  being  free  I  love  thee  :  for  the  sake 
Of  that  one  feature  can  be  well  content. 
Disgraced  as  thou  hast  been,  poor  as  thou  art, 
To  seek  no  sublunary  rest  beside. 


But  once  enslaved,  farewell  !     I  could  endure 
Chains  nowhere  patiently  ;  and  chains  at  home, 
Where  I  am  free  by  birthright,  not  at  all. 
Then  what  were  left  of  roughness  in  the  grain 
Of  British  natures,  wanting  its  excuse 
That  it  belongs  to  freemen,  would  disgust 
And  shock  me.     I  should  then  with  double  pain 
Feel  all  the  rigor  of  thy  fickle  clime  ; 
And,  if  I  must  bewail  the  blessing  lost 
For  which  our  Hampdens  and  our  Sidneys  bled, 
I  would  at  least  bewail  it  under  skies 
Milder,  among  a  people  less  austere  ; 
In  scenes,  which  having  never  known  me  free. 
Would  not  reproach  me  with  the  loss  I  felt. 
Do  I  forebode  impossible  events. 
And  tremble  at  vain  dreams?   Heaven  grant  I  may! 
But  the  age  of  virtuous  politics  is  past, 
And  we  are  deep  in  that  of  cold  pretence. 


Designed  by  loud  declaimers  on  the  part 
Of  liberty,  themselves  the  slaves  of  lust. 
Incurs  derision  for  his  easy  faith, 
.  And  lack  of  knowledge,  and  with  cause  enough  ; 
For  when  was  public  virtue  to  be  found 
Where  private  was  not  ?     Can  he  love  the  whole, 
Who  loves  no  part  ?     He  be  a  nation's  friend, 
Who  is  in  truth  the  friend  of  no  man  there? 
Can  he  be  strenuous  in  his  country's  cause, 
Who  slights  the  charities,  for  whose  dear  sake 
That  country,  if  at  all,  must  be  beloved? 

'T  is  therefore  sober  and  good  men  are  sad 
For  England's  glory,  seeing  it  wax  pale 
And  sickly,  while  her  champions  wear  their  hearts 
So  loose  to  private  duty,  that  no  brain. 
Healthful  and  undisturbed  by  factious  fumes, 
Can  dream  them  trusty  to  the  general  weal. 

Such  were  not  they  of  old,  whose  tempered  blades 
Dispersed  the  shackles  of  usurped  control. 
And  hewed  them  link  from  link;  then  Albion's  sons 
Were  sons  indeed  ;   they  felt  a  filial  heart 
Beat  high  within  them  at  a  mother's  wrongs  ; 
And,  shining  each  in  his  domestic  sphere, 
Shone  brighter  still  once  called  to  public  view. 

FOREBODINGS  OF   THE  BRITISH   PATRIOT.  —  ALL  THINGS  HAVE 

'T  is  therefore  many,  whose  sequestered  lot 
Forbids  their  interference,  looking  on, 
Anticipate  perforce  some  dire  event ; 
And,  seeing  the  old  castle  of  tho  state. 
That  promised  once  more  firmness,  so  assailed 
That  all  its  tempest^beaten  turrets  shake. 
Stand  motionless  expectants  of  its  fall. 
All  has  its  date  below  ;  the  fatal  hour 
Was  registered  in  heaven  ere  time  began. 
We  turn  to  dust,  and  all  our  mightiest  works 
Die  too  :  the  deep  foundations  that  we  lay. 
Time  ploughs  them  up,  and  not  a  trace  remains. 
Wo  build  with  what  we  deem  eternal  rock  : 
A  distant  age  asks  where  the  fabric  stood  ; 
And  in  the  dust,  sifted  and  searched  in  vain, 
The  undiscoverable  secret  sleeps. 


Patriots  are  grown  too  shrewd  to  be  sincere. 
And  we  too  wise  to  trust  them.  He  that  takes. 
Deep  in  his  soft  credulity,  the  stamp 


1       But  there  is  yet  a  liberty,  unsung 

I  By  poets,  and  by  senators  unpraised  ; 

j  Which  monarchs  cannot  grant,  nor  all  the  powers 

Of  earth  and  hell  confederate  take  away  : 

A  liberty  which  persecution,  fraud, 
j  Oppressions,  prisons,  have  no  power  to  bind  ; 
I   Which  whoso  tastes  can  be  enslaved  no  more. 

'T  is  liberty  of  heart  derived  from  heaven. 

Bought  with  His  blood,  who  gave  it  to  mankind, 
I  And  sealed  with  the  same  token.     It  is  held 

By  charter,  and  that  charter  sanctioned  sure 

By  the  unimpeachable  and  awful  oath 

And  promise  of  a  God. 

His  other  gifts 
All  bear  the  royal  stamp  that  speaks  them  his. 


WINTER  —  FEBRUARY. 


473 


And  are  august ;  but  this  transoonds  tbom  all. 
His  other  works,  tho  visible  display   • 
Of  all-creating  energy  and  miglit, 
Are  grand,  no  doubt,  and  worthy  of  tbo  word, 
That,  finding  an  intonuinable  space 
Unoccupied,  ha3  filled  tho  void  so  well. 
And  made  so  sparkling  wliat  wa:$  dark  before. 
But  these  are  not  his  glory.     Man,  't  is  true, 
Sniit  with  the  beauty  of  so  fair  a  scone, 
Might  well  suppose  the  artificer  divino 
Meant  it  eternal,  had  lie  not  himself 
Pronounced  it  transient,  glorious  as  it  is. 
And,  still  designing  a  more  glorious  far. 
Doomed  it  as  insufficient  for  His  praise. 
These  therefore  are  occasional,  and  pass  ; 
Formed  for  tho  confutation  of  tho  fool. 
Whose  lying  heart  disputes  against  a  God  j 
That  office  served,  they  must  be  swept  away. 


Not  so  tho  labors  of  His  love  :  they  shine 
In  other  heavens  than  these  that  we  behold. 
And  fade  not.     There  is  Paradise  that  fears 
No  forfeiture,  and  of  its  fruits  He  sends 
Large  prelibation  oft  to  saints  below. 
Of  these  the  first  in  order,  and  the  pledge 
And  confident  assurance  of  the  rest, 
Is  liberty  :  a  flight  into  His  arms, 
Ero  yet  mortality's  fine  threads  give  way, 
A  clear  escape  from  tyrannizing  lust. 
And  full  immunity  from  penal  woe. 

MAN'S  DODT  A  DISCIPLISART  DONOEON. 

Chains  are  tho  portion  of  revolted  man, 
Stripus.  anil  ii  dungeon  ;  and  his  body  serves 
Thf  triple  purpc.so.     In  that  sickly,  foul, 
Opprobrious  resiiloncc  hi'  fin<N  tdoni  nil. 
Propenso  his  hoart  t..  i.|..|  ,  In    1-  !i.M 
In  silly  dotage  un  r,-,;,!,  ,1  tlnn-.. 
Careless  of  their  Cn  at"r.     Ami  (hat,  low 
And  sordid  gravitation  of  his  pnu-crs 
To  a  vile  clod  so  draws  him,  with  such  force 
Resistless  from  the  centre  he  should  seek. 
That  ho  at  last  forgets  it.     All  his  hopes 
Tend  downward  ;  his  ambition  is  to  sink. 
To  reach  a  depth  profounder  still,  and  still 
Profounder,  in  the  fathomless  abyss 
Of  folly,  plunging  in  pursuit  of  death. 

THE  DISQL'IBT  AND  FBAAS  OF  TITB  WICKED. 

But  ere  he  gain  the  comfortless  repose 
He  seeks,  and  acquiescence  of  his  soul 
In  heaven-renouncing  exile,  he  endures  — 
What  does  he  not,  from  lusts  opposed  in  vain. 
And  self-reproaching  conscience?    He  foresees 
The  fatal  issue  to  his  health,  fame,  peace, 
Fortune,  and  dignity  ;  the  loss  of  all 
That  can  ennoble  man,  and  make  frail  life. 
Short  as  it  is,  supportable.     Still  worse, 
Far  worse  than  all  the  plagues,  with  which  his  t 


Infect  bis  happiest  moments,  he  forebodes 
Ages  of  hopeless  misery.     Future  death. 
And  death  still  future.     Not  a  hasty  stroke, 
Like  that  which  sends  him  to  the  dusty  grave  ; 
But  unropoalable,  enduring  death. 
Scripture  is  still  a  trumpet  to  his  fears  : 
What  none  can  prove  a  forgery  may  be  true  ; 
What  none  but  bad  men  wish  exploded,  must. 
That  scruple  checks  him. 

REFORM  TiUT   IS   BIJT  SELF-RELIANT  IS  FLBBTINO. 

Riot  is  not  loud, 
Nor  dmnk  enough,  to  drown  it.     In  the  midst 
Of  laughter  his  compunctious  are  sincere  ; 
And  he  abhors  the  jest  by  which  he  shines. 
Remorse  begets  reform.     His  master-lust 
Falls  first  before  his  resolute  rebuke. 
And  seems  dethroned  and  vanquished.  Peace  ensues, 
But  spurious  and  short-lived  ;   the  puny  child 
Of  self-congratulating  pride,  begot 
On  fancied  innooonco.     Again  ho  falls. 
And  fights  again  j  but  finds  his  best  essay 
A  presage  ominous,  portending  still 
Its  own  dishonor  by  a  worse  relapse  ; 
Till  nature,  unavailing  nature,  foiled 
So  oft,  and  wearied  in  the  vain  attempt, 
Scoffs  at  her  own  performance. 


Reason  now 
Takes  part  with  appetite,  and  pleads  the  cause 
Perversely,  which  of  late  she  so  condemned  ; 
With  shallow  shifts  and  old  devices,  worn 
And  tattered  in  tho  service  of  debauch. 
Covering  his  shame  from  his  offended  sight. 

•  Hath  Kod  indeed  given  appetites  to  man. 
And  stored  the  earth  so  plenteously  with  means, 
To  gratify  the  hunger  of  his  wish  ; 
And  doth  He  reprobate,  and  will  He  damn. 
The  use  of  His  own  bounty '!  making  first 
So  frail  a  kind,  and  then  enacting  laws 
So  strict,  that  less  than  perfect  must  despair? 
Falsehood  !  which  whoso  but  suspects  of  truth 
Dishonors  God,  and  makes  a  slave  of  man. 
Do  they  themselves,  who  undertake  for  hire 
The  teacher's  office,  and  dispense  at  large 
Their  weekly  dole  of  edifying  strains. 
Attend  to  their  own  music?  have  they  faith 
In  what  with  such  solemnity  of  tone 
And  gesture  they  propound  to  our  belief? 
Nay  —  conduct  hath  the  loudest  tongue.    The  voice 
Is  but  an  instrument,  on  which  tho  priest 
Jlay  play  what  tune  he  pleases.     In  the  deed, 
The  unequivocal,  authentic  deed. 
We  find  sound  argument,  we  read  the  heart.' 

Such  reasonings  (if  that  name  must  needs  belong 
To  excuses  in  which  reason  has  no  part) 
Servo  to  compose  a  spirit  well  inclined 
To  live  on  terms  of  amity  with  vice, 
And  sin  without  disturbance. 


00 


474 


RURAL    POETRY. COWPER. 


Often  urged 
(As  often  as,  libidinous  discourse 
Exhausted,  he  resorts  to  solemn  themes 
Of  theological  and  grave  import), 
They  gain  at  last  his  unreserved  assent ; 
Till,  hardened  his  heart's  temper  in  the  forge 
Of  lust,  and  on  the  anvil  of  despair. 
He  slights  the  strokes  of  conscience.  Nothing  mov 
Or  nothing  much,  his  constancy  in  ill  ; 
Vain  tampering  has  but  fostered  his  disease  ; 
'T  is  desperate,  and  he  sleeps  the  sleep  of  death. 


Haste  now,  philosopher,  and  set  him  free. 
Charm  the  deaf  serpent  wisely.     Make  him  hear 
Of  rectitude  and  fitness,  moral  truth 
How  lovely,  and  the  moral  sense  how  sure. 
Consulted  and  obeyed,  to  guide  his  steps 
Directly  to  the  first  and  only  fair. 
Spare  not  in  such  a  cause.     Spend  all  the  powers 
Of  rant  and  rhapsody  in  virtue's  praise  ; 
Be  most  sublimely  good,  verbosely  grand, 
And  with  poetic  trappings  grace  thy  prose. 
Till  it  out-mantle  all  the  pride  of  verse.  — 
Ah,  tinkling  cymbal,  and  high-sounding  brass, 
Smitten  in  vain  !  such  music  cannot  charm 
Th'  eclipse,  that  intercepts  truth's  heavenly  beam. 
And  chills  and  darkens  a  wide-wandering  soul. 


The  still  small  voice  is  wanted.    He  must  speak. 
Whose  word  leaps  forth  at  once  to  its  effect ; 
Who  calls  for  things  that  are  not,  and  they  come. 

Grace  makes  the  slave  a  freeman.    'T  is  a  change. 
That  turns  to  ridicule  the  turgid  speech 
And  stately  tone  of  moralists,  who  boast. 
As  if,  like  him  of  fabulous  renown. 
They  had  indeed  ability  to  smooth 
The  shag  of  savage  nature,  and  were  each 
An  Orpheus,  and  omnipotent  in  song  : 
But  transformation  of  apostate  man 
From  fool  to  wise,  from  earthly  to  divine, 
Is  work  for  Him  that  made  him.     He  alone, 
And  He  by  means  in  philosophic  eyes 
Trivial  and  worthy  of  disdain,  achieves 
The  wonder  :  humanizing  what  is  brute 
In  the  lost  kind,  extracting  from  the  lips 
Of  asps  their  venom,  overpowering  strength 
By  weakness,  and  hostility  by  love. 

PATRIOTS  GLORIODS  j   MARTYRS  MORE  SO. 

Patriots  have  toiled,  and  in  their  country's  cause 
Bled  nobly  ;  and  their  deeds,  as  they  deserve, 
Receive  proud  recompense.     We  give  in  charge 
Their  names  to  the  sweet  lyro.     The  historic  muse. 
Proud  of  the  treasure,  marches  with  it  down 
To  latest  times  ;  and  sculpture,  in  her  tui-n, 


Gives  bond  in  stone  and  ever-during  brass 
To  guard  them,  and  to  immortalize  her  trust : 
But  fairer  wreaths  are  due,  though  never  paid. 
To  those  who,  posted  at  the  shrine  of  truth. 
Have  fallen  in  her  defence.     A  patriot's  blood, 
Well  spent  in  such  a  strife,  may  earn  indeed. 
And  for  a  time  insure  to  his  loved  land, 
The  sweets  of  liberty  and  equal  laws  ; 
But  martyrs  struggle  for  a  brighter  prize. 
And  win  it  with  more  pain. 


Their  blood  is  shed 
In  confirmation  of  the  noblest  claim. 
Our  claim  to  feed  upon  immortal  truth. 
To  walk  with  God,  to  be  divinely  free, 
To  soar,  and  to  anticipate  the  skies. 
Yet  few  remember  them.     They  lived  unknown. 
Till  persecution  dragged  them  into  fame. 
And  chased  them  up  to  heaven.    Their  ashes  flew- 
No  marble  tells  us  whither.     With  their  names 
No  bard  embalms  and  sanctifies  his  song  : 
And  history,  so  warm  on  meaner  themes, 
Is  cold  on  this.     She  execrates  indeed 
The  tyranny  that  doomed  them  to  the  fire. 
But  gives  the  glorious  sufferers  little  praise. 


j       He  is  the  freeman  whom  the  truth  makes  free, 
j  And  all  are  slaves  beside.     There  's  not  a  chain, 
That  hellish  foes,  confederate  for  his  harm. 
Can  wind  around  him,  but  he  casts  it  off 
With  as  much  ease  as  Samson  his  green  withes. 
Ho  looks  abroad  into  the  varied  field 
Of  nature,  and  though  poor,  perhaps,  compared 
With  those  whose  mansions  glitter  in  his  sight. 
Calls  the  delightful  scenery  all  his  own. 

THE  CBILn  OF  GOD  ENJOYS  HIS  FATHER'S  REALMS. 

His  are  the  mountains,  and  the  valleys  his, 
And  the  resplendent  rivers  :  his  t'  enjoy 
With  a  propriety  that  none  can  feel, 
But  who,  with  filial  confidence  inspired. 
Can  lift  to  heaven  an  unpresumptuous  eye. 
And  smiling  say,  '  My  Father  made  them  all  ! ' 
Are  they  not  his  by  a  peculiar  right. 
And  by  an  emphasis  of  interest  his. 
Whose  eye  they  fill  with  tears  of  holy  joy. 
Whose  heart  with  praise,  and  whose  exalted  mind 
With  worthy  thoughts  of  that  unwearied  love, 
That  planned,  and  built,  and  still  upholds,  a  world 
So  clothed  with  beauty  for  rebellious  man  ? 


Yes  —  ye  may  fill  your  garners,  ye  that  reap 
The  loaded  soil,  and  ye  may  waste  much  good 
In  senseless  riot ;   but  ye  will  not  find 
In  feast,  or  in  the  chase,  in  song  or  dance, 
A  liberty  like  his,  who,  uniuipeached 


WINTER —  FEBRUARY. 


475 


Of  usurpation,  and  to  no  man's  wrong, 
Appropriiilfs  nature  as  his  Father's  work, 


uhor  1 


you. 


lit/  is  inilu'cd  a  frooman.     Froo  by  birth 
I  If  ....  i.uun  city  ;   planned  or  ore  the  hills 
AVero  built,  tlio  fountains  oixsnetl,  or  the  soa 
With  all  his  roaring  multitude  of  waves. 
ni9  freedom  is  the  same  in  every  state  ; 
And  no  condition  of  this  changeful  life, 
So  manifold  in  cares,  whoso  every  day 
lirings  its  oivn  evil  with  it,  makes  it  less  ; 
For  he  has  wings,  that  neither  sickness,  pain, 
Nor  penury,  can  cripple  or  confine. 
No  nook  so  narrow  but  ho  spreads  them  there 
With  case,  and  is  at  largo.     The  oppressor  holds 
His  body  bound,  but  knows  not  what  a  range 
His  spirit  takes,  unconscious  of  a  chain  ; 
And  that  to  bind  him  is  a  vain  attempt. 
Whom  God  delights  in,  and  in  whom  Ho  dwells. 


Acquaint  thyself  with  God,  if  thou  wouldst  taste 
His  works.     Admitted  once  to  His  embrace, 
Thou  shalt  perceive  that  thou  wast  blind  before  : 
Thine  eye  shall  bo  instructed  ;  and  thine  heart, 
Made  pure,  shall  relish,  with  divine  delight 
Till  then  unfelt,  what  hands  divine  bare  wrought. 


Brutes  graze  the  mountain  top,  with  faces  prone. 
And  eyes  intent  upon  the  scanty  herb 
It  yields  them  ;  or,  recumbent  on  its  brow, 
Ruminate  heedless  of  the  scene  outspread 
Beneath,  beyond,  and  stretching  far  away 
From  inland  regions  to  the  distant  main. 
Man  views  it,  and  admires  ;   but  rests  content 
With  what  he  views.     The  landscape  has  his  praise. 
But  not  its  Author.     Unconcerned  who  formed 
The  paradise  he  sees,  he  finds  it  such  ; 
And,  such  well-pleased  to  find  it,  asks  no  more. 
Not  so   the   mind   that    has    been   touched    from 

heaven, 
And  in  the  school  of  sacred  wisdom  taught, 
To  read  His  wonders,  in  whose  thought  the  world. 
Fair  as  it  is,  existed  ere  it  was. 
Not  for  its  own  sake  merely,  but  for  His 
Much  more,  who  fashioned  it,  he  gives  it  praise  ; 
Praise  that  from  earth  resulting,  as  it  ought. 
To  earth's  acknowledged  sovereign,  finds  at  once 
Its  only  just  proprietor  in  Him. 

THE  CHRISTI1.V  SEES  OOD  IS  AIL  TmXOS. 

The  soul  that  sees  Him,  or  receives  sublimed 
Xow  faculties,  or  learns  at  least  to  employ 
More  worthily  the  powers  she  owned  before  ; 
Discerns  in  all  things  what,  with  stupid  gaze 
Of  ignorance,  till  then  she  overlooked, 
A  ray  of  heavenly  light,  gilding  all  forms 
Terrestrial  in  the  vast  and  the  minute  — 


The  unambiguous  footsteps  of  the  God, 
Who  gives  its  lustre  to  an  insect's  wing. 
And  wheels  His  throne  upon  the  rolling  worlds. 
Much  conversant  with  heaven,  she  often  holds 
With  those  fair  ministers  of  liglit  to  man. 
That  fill  the  skies  nightly  with  silent  pomp, 
Sweet  conference. 


THE   STARS.— 


Al-OSTROrilE  TO  1 


Inquires  what  strains  wore  they 
With  which  heaven  rang,  when  every  star,  in  haste 
To  gratulate  the  new-created  earth. 
Sent  forth  a  voice,  and  all  the  sons  of  God 
Shouted  for  joy.  —  'Tell  me,  ye  shining  hosts. 
That  navigate  a  sea  that  knows  no  storms. 
Beneath  a  vault  unsullied  with  a  cloud, 
If  from  your  elevation,  whence  ye  view 
Distinctly  scones  invisible  to  man. 
And  systems  of  whose  birth  no  tidings  yet 
Have  reached  this  nether  world,  ye  spy  a  race 
Favored  as  ours  ;  transgressors  from  the  womb, 
And  hasting  to  a  gra.ve,  yet  doomed  to  rise, 
And  to  possess  a  brighter  heaven  than  yours  ? 
As  one,  who,  long  detained  on  foreign  shores. 
Pants  to  return,  and  when  ho  sees  afar 
His  country's  weather-bleached  and  battered  rooks. 
From  the  green  wave  emerging,  darts  an  eye 
Radiant  with  joy  towards  the  happy  land  ; 
So  I  with  animatud  Iiopus  behold, 
Aii'l  hi.ii; y   'iiiil:  \\  I'h,  \'iiur  boarav  fires. 


Til,, 


Love  kindles  us  1  gaze.  1  feel  d 
That  give  assurance  of  their  owr 
And  that,  infused  from  heaven,  i 


TUE  LAMP  OF  TUB  WORD,  THE  OOIDE  TO  XATTRE. 

So  reads  he  Nature,  whom  the  lamp  of  truth 
Illuminates.     Thy  lamp,  mysterious  Word  ! 
Which  whoso  sees  no  longer  wanders  lost. 
With  intellects  bemazed  in  endless  doubt. 
But  runs  the  road  of  wisdom.     Thou  hast  built. 
With  means  that  were  not  till  by  Thee  employed. 
Worlds,  that  had  never  been  hadstThoa  in  strength 
Been  less,  or  less  benevolent  than  strong. 
They  are  thy  witnesses,  who  speak  thy  power 
And  goodness  infinite,  but  speak  in  ears 
That  hear  not,  or  receive  not  their  report. 
In  vain  thy  creatures  testify  of  Thee, 
Till  Thou  proclaim  Thyself.     Theirs  is  indeed 
A  teaching  voice  ;  but 't  is  the  praise  of  thine. 
That  whom  it  teaches  it  makes  prompt  to  learn. 
And  with  the  boon  gives  talents  for  its  use. 


Till  Thou  art  heard,  imaginations  vain 
Possess  the  heart,  and  fables  false  as  bell  ; 
Yet,  deemed  oracular,  lure  down  to  death 


476 


KURAL    POETRY. 


The  uninformed  and  heedless  souls  of  men. 
We  give  to  chance,  blind  chance,  ourselTcs  as  blind, 
The  glory  of  thy  work  ;  which  yet  appears 
Perfect  and  unimpeachable  of  blame. 
Challenging  human  scrutiny,  and  proved 
Then  skilful  most  when  most  severely  judged. 
But  chance  is  not  ;   or  is  not  where  Thou  reign'st : 
Thy  Providence  forbids  that  fickle  power 
(If  power  she  be,  that  works  but  to  confound) 
To  mix  her  wild  vagaries  with  thy  laws. 

ESSLAVED    BT  GODS  WE  DOTE   ON,   ONLT  BY  RECEfVING  THE 


Yet  thus  we  dote,  refusing  while  we  can 
Instruction,  and  inventing  to  ourselves 
Gods  such  as  guilt  makes  welcome ;  gods  that  sleep, 
Or  disregard  our  follies,  or  that  sit 
Amused  spectators  of  this  bustling  stage. 
Thee  we  reject,  unable  to  abide 
Thy  purity,  till  pure  as  Thou  art  pure, 
Made  such  by  Thee,  we  love  Thee  for  that  cause, 
For  which  we  shunned  and  hated  Thee  before. 
Then  we  are  free.     Then  liberty,  like  day. 
Breaks  on  the  soul,  and  by  a  flash  from  heaven 
Fires  all  the  faculties  with  glorious  joy. 
A  voice  is  heard,  that  mortal  ears  hear  not, 
Till  Thou  hast  touched  them ;  't  is  the  voice  of  song, 
A  loud  Hosanna  sent  from  all  thy  works  ; 
Which  he  that  hears  it  with  a  shout  repeats. 
And  adds  his  rapture  to  the  general  praise. 


In  that  blest  moment  Nature,  throwing  wide 
Her  veil  opaque,  discloses  with  a  smile 
The  Author  of  her  beauties,^  who,  retired 
Behind  his  own  creation,  works  unseen 
By  the  impure,  and  hears  his  power  denied. 

Thou  art  the  source  and  centre  of  all  minds. 
Their  only  point  of  rest,  eternal  AVord  I 
From  Thee  departing  they  are  lost,  and  rove 
At  random  without  honor,  hope,  or  peace. 
From  Thee  is  all  that  soothes  the  life  of  man. 
His  high  endeavor,  and  his  glad  success. 
His  strength  to  suffer,  and  his  will  to  serve. 
But,  0,  Thou  bounteous  Giver  of  all  good. 
Thou  art  of  all  thy  gifts  Thyself  the  crown  ! 
Give  what  Thou  canst,  without  Thee  we  are  poor  ; 
And  with  Thee  rich,  take  what  Thou  wilt  away. 


[  Compare  Wordsworth: 


1-  privilege, 
life,  to  lead 


Stiail  e'er  [jreviiil  uyaiiist  us,  or  disturb 
Our  cheerful  faith  that  all  which  we  behold 
Is  full  of  blessings.* 


'WINTER  WALK   AT   NOON.' 


destructiun  ,  !  i '  ■ 
sisted  on.  \|.L. 
author   on   aiiiiii:il 


There  is  in  souls  a  sympathy  with  sounds, 
And  as  the  mind  is  pitched  the  ear  is  pleased 
With  melting  airs  or  martial,  brisk  or  grave  ; 
Some  chord  in  unison  with  what  we  hear 
Is  touched  within  us,  and  the  heart  replies. 
How  soft  the  music  of  those  village  bells, 
Falling  at  intervals  upon  the  ear 
In  cadence  sweet,  now  dying  all  aw.ay, 
Now  pealing  loud  again,  and  louder  still. 
Clear  and  sonorous,  as  the  gale  comes  on  ! 
With  easy  force  it  opens  all  the  cells 
Where  memory  slept.     Wherever  I  have  heard 
A  kindred  melody,  the  scene  recurs, 
And  with  it  all  its  pleasures  and  its  pains. 


Such  comprehensive  views  the  spirit  takes. 
That  in  a  few  short  moments  I  retrace 
(As  in  a  map  the  voyager  his  course) 
The  windings  of  my  way  through  many  years. 
Short  as  in  retrospect  the  journey  seems. 
It  seemed  not  always  short ;  the  rugged  path, 
And  prospect  oft  so  dreary  and  forlorn. 
Moved  many  a  sigh  at  its  disheartening  length. 
Yet  feeling  present  evils,  while  the  past 
Faintly  impress  the  mind,  or  not  at  all. 
How  readily  we  wish  time  spent  revoked, 
That  we  might  try  the  ground  again,  where  once 
(Through  inexperience,  as  we  now  perceive) 
We  missed  that  happiness  we  might  have  found  ! 


Some  friend  is  gone,  perhaps  his  son's  best  friend, 
A  father,  whose  authority,  in  show 
When  most  severe,  and  mustering  all  its  force. 
Was  but  the  graver  countenance  of  love  ; 
Whose  favor,  like  the  clouds  of  spring,  might  lower, 
And  utter  now  and  then  an  awful  voice. 
But  had  a  blessing  in  its  darkest  frown. 
Threatening  at  once  and  nourishing  the  plant. 
We  loved,  but  not  enough,  the  gentle  hand 
That  reared  us.     At  a  thoughtless  age,  allured 


WINTER  —  FEBRUARY. 


477 


By  every  gilded  folly,  we  renounced 

His  sheltering  side,  and  wilfully  forewent 

That  converse,  which  wo  now  in  vain  regret. 

How  gladly  would  the  man  recall  to  life 

The  boy's  neglected  sire  !  a  mother  too. 

That  softer  friend,  perhaps  more  gladly  still. 

Might  he  demand  thom  at  the  gates  of  death. 

Sorrow  has,  since  they  wont,  subdued  and  tamed 

The  playful  humor  ;  ho  could  now  endure 

(Himself  grown  sober  in  the  vale  of  tears), 

And  feel  a  parent's  presence  no  restraint. 

But  not  to  understand  a  treasure's  worth, 

Till  time  has  stolen  away  the  slighted  good. 

Is  cause  of  half  the  Rovcrty  we  feel. 

And  makes  the  world  the  wilderness  it  is. 

The  few  that  pray  at  all  pray  oft  amiss, 

And,  sceliii^  grace  to  improve  the  prize  they  hold 

Would  urge  a  wiser  suit  than  asking  more. 


The  night  was  winter  in  his  roughest  mood  ; 
The  morning  sharp  and  clear.     But  now  at  noon, 
Upon  the  southern  side  of  the  slant  hills, 
And  where  the  woods  fence  off  the  northern  blast, 
The  season  smiles,  resigning  all  its  rage, 
And  has  the  warmth  of  May.     The  vault  is  blue 
Without  a  cloud,  and  white  without  a  speck 
The  dazzling  splendor  of  the  scene  below. 

THE    BELrEY.T«WBB    ASD     rrS     MUSIC.  —  ' 


Again  the  harmony  comes  o'er  the  vale  ; 
And  through  tlie  trees  I  view  the  embattled  tower, 
Whence  all  the  music.     I  again  perceive 

The  soothing  influon^'"  •>(  tli.'  wnli.'.l  strains. 
And  settle  in  soft  itiii-:'iL-     >    1  :i'  il  • 

The  walk,  still  n-i  I" '.  "i   i   '  mimI  elms, 

Whose  outspreail  luair  !i'  -  ^■^■  in.  I,  ihe  glade. 
The  roof,  though  m<.vablo  thr.m-li  all  its  length 
As  the  wind  sways  it,  has  yet  well  sufficed. 
And,  intercepting  in  their  silent  fall 
The  frequent  flakes,  has  kept  a  path  for  mo. 
No  noise  is  here,  or  none  that  hinders  thought. 

TOE  nOBlX  IS   WISTEK  j  TISKUNU  ICEDKI.PS. 

The  redbreast  warbles  still,  but  is  content 
With  slender  notes,  and  more  than  half  suppressed; 
Pleased  with  his  solitude,  and  flitting  light 
From  spray  to  spray,  where'er  he  rests  he  shakes 
From  many  a  twig  the  pendent  drops  of  ice, 
That  tinkle  in  the  withered  leaves  below. 
Stillness,  accompanied  with  sounds  so  soft, 
Charms  more  than  silence. 

MEDlTiTIOS.  — DIFFERENCE  BETWEEX  K.VOWLEDQE  AND  WIS- 

Meditation  here 
May  think  down  hours  to  moments.    Hero  the  heart 
May  give  a  useful  lesson  to  the  head. 
And  learning  wiser  grow  without  his  books. 
Knowledge  and  Wisdom,  far  from  being  one, 
Have  ofttimcs  no  connection.     Knowledge  dwells 
In  heads  replete  with  thoughts  of  other  men  ; 


Wisdom,  in  minds  attentive  to  their  own. 
Knowledge,  »  rude  unprofitable  mass. 
The  mere  materials  with  which  Wisdom  builds, 
Till  smoothed,  and  squared,  and  fitted  to  its  place. 
Does  but  encumber  wlioin  it  seems  to  enrich. 
Knowledge  is  proud  that  he  has  learned  so  much  ; 
Wisdom  is  humble  that  ho  knows  no  more. 

ABl-SfS  or   BOOK-READING. 

Books  are  not  seldom  talismans  and  spells, 
By  which  the  magic  art  of  shrewder  wits 
Holds  an  unthinking  multitude  enthralled. 
Some  to  the  fascination  of  a  name 
Surrender  judgment,  hoodwinked.     Some  the  stylo 
Infatuates,  and  through  labyrinths  and  wilds 
Of  error  leads  them,  by  a  tunc  entranced. 
While  sloth  seduces  more,  too  weak  to  bear 
The  insupportable  fatigue  of  thought. 
And  swallowing  therefore,  without  pause  or  choice, 
The  total  grist  unsifted,  husks  and  all. 

THE  BOOK  OF  NATl'KB   EXCITES,  SOT  SMOTBFJa  TUODCBT. 

But  trees  and  rivulets,  whose  rapid  course 
Defies  the  check  of  Winter,  haunts  of  deer. 
And  sheep-walks  populous  with  bleating  lambs, 
And  lanes  in  which  the  primrose  ere  her  time 
Peeps  through  the  moss  that  clothes  the  hawthorn 

Deceive  no  student.     Wisdom  there,  ond  truth, 

Not  shy,  as  in  the  world,  and  to  be  won 

By  slow  solicitation,  seize  at  once 

The  roving  thought,  and  fix  it  on  themselves. 

WONDERS  OF  NATURE. — WHY  CXFELT. 

What  prodigies  can  Power  Divine  perform 
More  grand  than  it  produces  year  by  year  — 
And  all  in  sight  of  inattentive  man? 
Familiar  with  the  effect,  we  slight  the  cause, 
And  in  the  constancy  of  Nature's  course, 
The  regular  return  of  genial  months, 
And  renovation  of  a  faded  world. 
See  naught  to  wonder  at.     Should  God  again, 
As  once  in  Gibeon,  interrupt  the  race 
Of  the  undeviating  and  punctual  sun, 
How  would  the  world  admire  !  but  speaks  it  less 
An  agency  divine,  to  make  him  know 
His  moment  when  to  sink  and  when  to  rise, 
Age  after  ago,  than  to  arrest  his  course  ? 
All  wo  behold  is  miracle  ;  but,  seen 
So  duly,  all  is  miracle  in  vain. 

THE  SLEEP  or  THE  VEGETABLE  WORLD  -,  ITS  AWAKING. 

Where  now  the  vital  energy  that  moved. 
While  Summer  was,  the  pure  and  subtle  lymph 
Through  the  imperceptible  meandering  veins 
Of  leaf  and  flower  ?     It  sleeps  ;  and  the  icy  touch 
Of  unprolifie  Winter  has  impressed 
A  cold  stagnation  on  the  intestine  tide. 
But  let  the  months  go  round,  a  few  short  months. 
And  all  shall  be  restored.     These  naked  shoots, 
Barren  as  lances,  among  which  the  wind 
Makes  wintry  music,  sighing  as  it  goes. 
Shall  put  their  graceful  foliage  on  again. 


478 


RURAL  POETRY. 


And,  more  aspiring,  and.  with  ampler  spread,    [lost. 
Shall  boast  new  charms,  and  more  than  they  have 
Then  each,  in  its  peculiar  honors  clad, 
Shall  publish  even  to  the  distant  eye 
Its  family  and  tribe. 

SHBDBBERT    BKVITED.  —  THE    LAB0BNCM  ;   SYRISGA  }     ROSE; 
CYPRESS  ;   YEW  ;    LILAC. 

Laburnum,  rich 
In  streaming  gold  ;  syringa,  ivory  pure  ; 
The  scentless  and  the  scented  rose  ;  this  red, 
And  of  an  humbler  growth,  the  other  ^  tall, 
And  throwing  up  into  the  darkest  gloom 
Of  neighboring  cypress,  or  more  sable  yew. 
Her  silver  globes,  light  as  the  foamy  surf. 
That  the  wind  severs  from  the  broken  wave  ; 
The  lilac,  various  in  array,  now  white. 
Now  sanguine,  and  her  beauteous  head  now  set 
With  purple  spikes  pyramidal,  as  if 
Studious  of  ornament,  yet  unresolved 
Which  hue  she  most  approved,  she  chose  them  all  ; 


Copious  of  flowers,  the  woodbine,  pale  and  wan. 
But  well  compensating  her  sickly  looks 
With  never-cloying  odors,  early  and  late  ; 
Hypericum  all  bloom,  so  thick  a  swarm 
Of  flowers,  like  flies,  clothing  her  slender  rods. 
That  scarce  a  leaf  appears  ;  mezereon  too. 
Though  leafless,  well  attired,  and  thick  beset 
With  blushing  wreaths,  investing  every  spray  ; 
Altha;a  with  the  purple  eye  j  the  broom, 
Yellow  and  bright,  as  bullion  unalloyed, 
Her  blossoms  ;  and,  luxuriant  above  all. 
The  jasmine,  throwing  wide  her  elegant  sweets. 
The  deep  dark  green  of  whose  unvarnished  leaf 
Makes  more  conspicuous,  and  illumines  more 
The  bright  profusion  of  her  scattered  stars. 

PERPETUAL  SDCCESSION  OF  DEATH  AND   LIFE.  —  THE  SODL  OF 

These  have  been,  and  these  shall  be  in  their  day; 
And  all  this  uniform,  uncolored  scene 
Shall  be  dismantled  of  its  fleecy  load. 
And  flush  into  variety  again. 
From  dearth  to  plenty,  and  from  death  to  life, 
Is  Nature's  progress,  when  she  lectures  man 
In  heavenly  truth  ;  evincing,  as  she  makes 
The  grand  transition,  that  there  lives  and  works 
A  soul  in  all  things,  and  that  soul  is  God. 


The  beauties  of  the  wilderness  are  His, 
That  makes  so  gay  the  solitary  place. 
Where  no  eye  sees  them.     And  the  fairer  forms 
That  cultivation  glories  in  are  his. 
He  sets  the  bright  procession  on  its  way. 
And  marshals  all  the  order  of  the  year  ; 
He  marks  the  bounds  which  Winter  may  not  pass, 
And  blunts  his  pointed  fury  ;  in  its  case, 
Russet  and  rude,  folds  up  the  tender  germ, 
I  The  guelder-rose. 


Uninjured,  with  inimitable  art ; 

And,  ere  one  flowery  season  fades  and  dies, 

Designs  the  blooming  wonders  of  the  next. 


Some  say  that  in  the  origin  of  things. 
When  all  creation  started  into  birth. 
The  infant  elements  received  a  law. 

From  which  they  swmv  mit -i ,     That  under  for 

Of  that  controlling' ..kImlmio.  iI,>.\  move, 
And  need  not  his  inniM  .iiit    li.uil.  Who  first 
Prescribed  their  cuui.-u,  U,  n.v,iihiW  it  now. 
Thus  dream  they,  and  cuiitrivo  to  save  a  God 
The  encumbrance  of  his  own  concerns,  and  spare 
The  great  Artificer  of  all  that  moves 
The  stress  of  a  continual  act,  the  pain  - 
Of  unremitted  vigilance  and  care, 
As  too  laborious  and  severe  a  task. 

So  man,  the  moth,  is  not  afraid,  it  seems. 
To  span  omnipotence,  and  measure  might. 
That  knows  no  measure,  by  the  scanty  rule 
And  standard  of  his  own,  that  is  to-day, 
And  is  not  ere  to-morrow's  sun  go  down. 
But  how  should  matter  occupy  a  charge. 
Dull  as  it  is,  and  satisfy  a  law 
So  vast  in  its  demands,  unless  impelled 
To  ceaseless  service  by  a  ceaseless  force. 
And  under  pressure  of  some  ( 


The  Lui'l  ni  :,ii,  lliiiirli  through  all  difl'used, 
Sustains,  uud  ii  tin.'  Utu  uf  M  that  lives. 
Nature  is  but  a  name  for  an  efi'ect, 
Whose  cause  is  God.     He  feeds  the  sacred  fire. 
By  which  the  mighty  process  is  maintained. 
Who  sleeps  not,  is  ii.it  mary  ;    in  uimse  sight 
Slow  circling  age^  ;iH'  :i-  ti  ;in-iiiil  ilav-;  ■ 
Whose  work  is  withniu  l:il„,r  ;    ni,n^^.  designs 
No  flaw  deforms,  uo  dilliculty  tlnviuts  ; 
And  whose  beneficence  uo  charge  exhausts. 


Him  blind  antiquity  profaned,  not  served. 
With  self-taught  rites,  and  under  various  names, 
Female  and  male,  Pomona,  Pales,  Pan, 
And  Flora,  and  Vertumnus  ;  peopling  earth 
With  tutelary  goddesses  and  gods. 
That  were  not ;  and  commending  as  they  would 
To  each  some  province,  garden,  field,  or  grove. 
But  all  are  under  one. 

CHRIST,   THE   GOD   OF   NATURE  AND   OF  BEAUTY.  —  EFFECTS  OF 
ROOFS    OF    HIS    CONSTANT 


One  spirit  —  His 
Who  wore  the  platted  thorns  with  bleeding  brows - 
Rules  universal  nature.     Not  a  flower 
But  shows  some  touch,  in  freckle,  streak,  or  stain. 
Of  his  unrivalled  pencil.     He  inspires 
Their  balmy  odors,  and  imparts  their  hues. 
And  bathes  their  eyes  with  nectar,  and  includes. 


WINTER  —  FEBRUARY. 


In  grains  as  oountlosis  as  the  sea-sido  sands, 

The  forma  with  which  Ho  sprinkles  all  tho  earth. 

Happy  who  walks  with  Him !  whom  what  ho  finda 

Of  Oavor  or  of  scout  in  fruit  or  flower, 

Or  what  ho  views  of  beautiful  or  grand 

In  nature,  from  tho  broad  majestic  oak 

To  tho  green  blade  that  twinkles  in  the  sun, 

Prompts  with  romenibranoo  of  a  present  tSod. 

His  prosonoo,  who  made  all  so  fair,  perceived. 

Makes  all  still  fairer.     As  with  Him  no  scene 

Is  dreary,  so  with  Him  all  seasons  please. 

Though  Winter  had  been  none,  had  man  been  true, 

And  earth  bo  punished  for  its  tenant's  sake, 

Yot  not  in  vengeance  ;  as  this  smiling  sky, 

So  soon  succeeding  such  an  angry  night, 

And  these  dissolving  snows,  and  this  clear  stream 

Recovering  fast  its  liquid  music,  prove. 


CHESS,  BILLIARDS,  SlIOPPISO, 

Who,  then,  tb:it  lii-  .1  t 
To  contcmplati'.M,   -n  i 


frien 


now    EMPTV  ! 

ig  and  tuned 


h1  board, 


Would  waste  utt.iiti   II   •■  ''•■ 

His  host  of  wooden  wairiuis  tu  aod  fro 

Marching  and  countermarching,  with  an  eye 

As  fixed  as  marble,  with  a  forehead  ridged 

And  furrowed  into  storms,  and  with  a  hand 

Trembling,  as  if  eternity  were  hung 

In  balance  on  his  conduct  of  a  pin  ? 

Nor  envies  he  aught  more  their  idle  sport. 

Who  pant  with  application  misapplied 

To  trivial  toys,  and,  pushing  ivory  balls 

Across  a  velvet  level,  feel  a  joy 

Akin  to  rapture,  when  the  bauble  finds 

Its  destined  goal,  of  difficult  access. 

Nor  deems  he  wiser  him,  who  gives  his  noon 

To  Miss,  the  mercer's  plague,  from  shop  to  shop 

Waudoring,  and  littering  with  unfolded  silks 

The  polished  counter,  and  approving  none. 

Or  promising  with  smiles  to  call  again. 


THE  COXCOUB  ( 

Nor  him,  who  by  his  vanity  seduced, 
And  soothed  into  a  dream  that  he  discerns 
The  difierence  of  a  Guido  from  a  daub, 
Freiiuents  the  crowded  auction  :  stationed  there 
As  duly  as  the  Langford  of  the  show, 
With  glass  at  eye,  and  catalogue  in  hand, 
And  tongue  accomplished  in  the  fulsome  eant 
And  pedantry,  that  coxcombs  learn  with  ease  ; 
Oft  as  the  price-deciding  hammer  falls. 
He  notes  it  in  his  book,  then  raps  his  box. 
Swears  'tis  a  bargain,  rails  at  his  hard  fate, 
That  he  has  let  it  pass  —  but  never  bids. 

THE  poet's  SBCLUDKD  WALK.  —  VILLAGE  CHILDREN  OATHER- 
ma   KI.NQ-CUPS,  DAISIES,  A.SD  WATER-CKKSSKS. 

Here  unmolested,  through  whatever  sign 
The  sun  proceeds,  I  wander.  Neither  miit, 
Nor  freezing  sky,  nor  sultry,  checking  mo. 
Nor  stranger,  intermeddling  with  my  joy. 


Even  in  tho  spring  and  playtime  of  the  year. 
That  calls  the  unwonted  villager  abroad 
With  all  her  little  ones,  a  sportive  train, 
To  gather  king-eups  in  the  yellow  mead. 
And  prink  their  hair  with  daisies,  or  to  pick 
A  cheap  but  wholesome  salad  from  the  brook,  — 
Those  shades  are  all  my  own. 

THE  HAKE  ;  STOCK-DOVE  ;  SQUIBRKI 

The  timorous  hare, 
Grown  so  familiar  with  her  frequent  guest. 
Scarce  shuns  mo  j  and  the  stock-dove,  unalarmod, 
Sits  cooing  in  the  pine-tree,  nor  suspends 
His  long  love-ditty  for  my  near  approach. 
Drawn  from  his  refuge  in  some  lonely  elm. 
That  ago  or  injury  has  hollowed  deep, 
Where  on  lii-  I     '    ''  "     '    '1  miitted  leaves. 
Ho  hasout-l.  !  I  iitures  forth 

Tho  squirrel,  lliiiini,  i'  1'.   -"1  I'oH  of  play  ; 
Me  sees  me,  and  at  on.'c,  swilt  as  a  bird,        [brush, 
Ascends  tho  neighboring  beech  ;  there  whisks  his 
And  perks  his  ears,  and  stamps,  and  erics  aloud, 
With  all  the  prettiness  of  feigned  alarm. 
And  anger  insignificantly  fierce. 


Tho  heart  is  hard  in  nature,  and  unfit 

For  human  fellowship,  as  being  void 

Of  sympathy,  and  therefore  dead  alike 

To  love  and  friendship  both,  that  is  not  pleased 

With  sight  of  animals  enjoying  life, 

Nor  feels  their  happiness  augment  his  own. 

The  bounding  fawn,  that  darts  across  the  glade 

When  none  pursues,  through  more  delight  of  heart. 

And  spirits  buoyant  with  excess  of  glee  ; 

The  horse  as  wanton,  and  almost  as  fleet. 

That  skims  tho  spacious  meadow  at  full  speed. 

Then   stops,  and   snorts,  and,  throwing   high   his 

Starts  to  the  voluntary  race  again  ;  [heels, 

The  very  kinc,  that  gambol  at  high  noon, 

Tho  total  herd  receiving  first  from  one. 

That  leads  the  danco,  a  summons  to  be  gay. 

Though  wild  their  strange  vagaries,  and  uncouth 

Their  ctTorts,  yet  resolved  with  one  consent 

To  give  such  act  and  utterance  as  they  may 

To  ecstasy  too  big  to  be  suppressed  ;  — 

These,  and  a  thousand  images  of  bliss, 

'  With  which  kind  Nature  graces  every  scene, 
Where  cruel  man  defeats  not  her  design, 
Impart  to  tho  benevolent,  who  wish 
All  that  are  capable  of  pleasure  pleased, 
A  far  superior  happiness  to  theirs, 
Tho  comfort  of  a  reasonable  joy. 


Man  scarce  had  risen,  obedient  to  his  call 
Who  formed  him  from  the  dust,  his  future  grave, 
When  he  was  crowned  as  never  king  was  since. 
God  set  tho  diadem  upon  his  head, 


RURAL    POETRY. 


And  angel  choirs  attended.     Wondering  stood 

The  new-made  monarch,  while  before  him  passed. 

All  happy,  and  all  perfect  in  their  kind. 

The  creatures,  summoned  from  their  various  haunts. 

To  see  their  sovereign,  and  confess  his  sway. 

Vast  was  his  empire,  absolute  his  power. 

Or  bounded  only  by  a  law  whose  force 

'Twas  his  sublimest  privilege  to  feel 

And  own,  —  the  law  of  universal  love. 

Ho  ruled  with  meekness,  they  obeyed  with  joy  ; 

No  cruel  purpose  lurked  within  his  heart. 

And  no  distrust  of  his  intent  in  theirs. 

So  Eden  was  a  scene  of  harmless  sport. 

Where  kindness  on  his  part,  who  ruled  the  whole, 

Begat  a  tranquil  confidence  in  all. 

And  fear  as  yet  was  not,  nor  cause  for  fear. 


But  sin  marred  all  ;  and  the  revolt  of  man. 
That  source  of  evils  not  exhausted  yet. 
Was  punished  with  revolt  of  his  from  him. 
Garden  of  God,  how  terrible  the  change         [heart, 
Thy  groves    and   lawns   then   witnessed  !      Every 
Each  animal,  of  every  name,  conceived 
A  jealousy,  and  an  instinctive  fear, 
And,  conscious  of  some  danger,  either  fled 
Precipitate  the  loathed  abode  of  man, 
Or  growled  defiance  in  such  angry  sort. 
As  taught  him  too  to  tremble  in  his  turn. 
Thus  harmony  and  family  accord 
Were  driven  from  Paradise  ;  and  in  that  hour 
The  seeds  of  cruelty,  that  since  have  swelled 
To  such  gigantic  and  enormous  growth, 
Were  sown  in  human  nature's  fruitful  soil. 
Hence  date  the  persecution  and  the  pain 
That  man  inflicts  on  all  inferior  kinds, 
Regardless  of  their  plaints. 


To  make  him  sport. 
To  gratify  the  frenzy  of  his  wrath, 
Or  his  base  gluttony,  are  causes  good 
And  just  in  his  account,  why  bird  and  boast 
Should  suSer  torture,  and  the  streams  be  dyed 
With  blood  of  their  inhabitants  impaled. 
Earth  groans  beneath  the  burden  of  a  war 
Waged  with  defenceless  innocence,  while  he. 
Not  satisfied  to  prey  on  all  around, 
Adds  ten-fold  bitterness  to  death  by  pangs 
Needless,  and  first  torments  ere  he  devours. 


And  howl  and  roar  as  likes  them,  uncontrolled  ; 
Nor  ask  his  leave  to  slumber  or  to  play. 
Woe  to  the  tyrant,  if  he  dare  intrude 
AYithin  the  confines  of  their  wild  domain  : 
The  lion  tells  himj  'I  am  monarch  here  ;  ' 
And  if  he  spare  him,  spares  him  on  the  terms 
Of  royal  mercy,  and  through  generous  scorn 
To  rend  a  victim  trembling  at  his  foot. 


by  force  of  instinct  drawn. 
Or  by  necessity  constrained,  they  live 
Dependent  upon  man  ;    those  in  his  fields. 
These  at  his  crib,  and  some  beneath  his  roof. 
They  prove  too  often  at  how  dear  a  rate 
He  sells  protection.  —  Witness  at  his  foot 
The  spaniel  dying  for  some  venial  fault 
Under  dissection  of  the  knotted  scourge  ; 
Witness  the  patient  ox,  with  stripes  and  yells 
Driven  to  the  slaughter,  goaded,  as  he  runs, 
To  madness  ;  while  the  savage  at  his  heels 
Laughs  at  the  frantic  sufi'erer's  fury,  spent 
Upon  the  guiltless  passenger  o'erthrown. 
He  too  is  witness,  noblest  of  the  train 
That  wait  on  man,  the  flight-performing  horse  ; 
With  unsuspecting  readiness  he  takes 
His  murderer  on  his  back,  and,  pushed  all  day. 
With  bleeding  sides  and  flanks,  that  heave  for  life. 
To  the  far-distant  goal,  arrives  and  dies. 

THE  LAW  SHOCLD  PREVENT  CRUELTY  TO  iNI.MALS. 

So  little  mercy  shows  who  needs  so  much  ! 
Does  law,  so  jealous  in  the  cause  of  man. 
Denounce  no  doom  on  the  delinquent?     None. 
He  lives,  and  o'er  his  brimming  beaker  boasts 
(As  if  barbarity  were  high  desert) 
The  inglorious  feat,  and,  clamorous  in  praise 
Of  the  poor  brute,  seems  wisely  to  suppose 
The  honors  of  his  matchless  horse  his  own. 
But  many  a  crime,  deemed  innocent  on  earth. 
Is  registered  in  heaven  ;  and  these  no  doubt 
Have  each  their  record,  with  a  curse  annexed. 


WILDIRNBSS.  —  THE  LIO.N'S    MiGNiNIMlTT. 

Now  happiest  they  that  occupy  the  scenes 
The  most  remote  from  his  abhorred  resort. 
Whom  once,  as  delegate  of  God  on  earth. 
They  feared,  and  as  his  perfect  image  loved. 
The  wilderness  is  theirs,  with  all  its  caves. 
Its  hollow  glens,  its  thickets,  and  its  plains, 
Unvisited  by  man.     There  they  are  free. 


[       Man  may  dismiss  compassion  from  his  heart, 
I  But  God  will  never.     When  He  charged  the  Jew 
I  To  assist  his  foe's  down-fallen  beast  to  rise  ; 
And  when  the  bush-exploring  boy,  that  seized 
The  young,  to  let  the  parent  bird  go  free  ; 
Proved  He  not  plainly  that  his  meaner  works 
Are  yet  his  care,  and  have  an  interest  all, 
All,  in  the  universal  Father's  love  ? 
On  Noah,  and  in  him  on  all  mankind. 
The  charter  was  conferred,  by  which  we  hold 
The  flesh  of  animals  in  foe,  and  claim 
O'er  all  we  feed  on  power  of  life  and  death. 
But  read  the  instrument,  and  mark  it  well  : 
The  oppression  of  a  tyrannous  control 
Can  find  no  warrant  there.     Feed,  then,  and  yield 


WINTER —  FEBRUARY. 


481 


Thanks  for  thy  food.    Carnivorous,  through  sin, 
Feed  on  the  slain,  but  spare  the  living  brute  ! 


The  Oovernor  of  all.  Himself  to  nil 
So  bountiful,  in  whose  attentive  car 
The  unfledged  raven  and  the  lion's  whelp 
Plead  not  in  vain  for  pity,  on  the  pangs 
Of  hunger  unaasungcd,  has  interposed 
Not  seldom  his  avenging  arm,  to  smito 
The  injurious  trampler  upon  Nature's  law, 
That  claims  forbearance  even  for  a  brute. 
Ho  hates  the  hardness  of  a  Balaam's  hinrt ; 
And,  prophet  as  he  was,  he  might  not  strike 
Thu  blauicless  animal,  without  rebuke, 
On  which  ho  rode.     Her  opportune  ofTcnoe 
Saved  him,  or  the  unrelenting  seer  had  died. 
He  sees  that  human  equity  is  slack 
To  interfere,  though  in  so  just  a  cause  ; 
And  makes  the  task  his  own.     Inspiring  dumb 
And  helpless  victims  with  a  sense  so  keen 
Of  injury,  with  such  knowledge  of  their  strength, 
And  such  sagacity  to  take  revenge. 
That  oft  the  beast  has  seemed  to  judge  the  man. 

STORY  OF  MISAGATm'Sj  THE  HORSE  AVENGED.  —  EVANDER. 

An  ancient,  not  a  legendary  tale, 
By  one  of  sound  intelligence  rehearsed 
(4f  such  who  plead  for  Providence  may  seem 
In  modern  eyes),  shall  make  the  doctrine  clear. 

Where  England,  stretched  toward  the  setting  sun, 
Narrow  and  long,  o'erlooks  the  western  wave, 
Dwelt  young  Misagathus  ;  a  scorner  he 
Of  God  and  goodness,  atheist  in  ostcnt. 
Vicious  in  act,  in  temper  savage-fierce. 
He  journeyed  ;  and  his  chance  was,  as  he  went. 
To  join  a  traveller,  of  far  different  note, 
Evandcr,  famed  for  piety,  for  years 
Deserving  honor,  but  for  wisdom  more. 
Fame  had  not  left  the  venerable  man 
A  stranger  to  the  manners  of  the  youth, 
Whose  face  too  was  familiar  to  his  view. 
Their  way  was  on  the  margin  of  the  land. 
O'er  the  green  summit  of  the  rocks,  whose  base 
Beats  back  the  roaring  surge,  scarce  heard  so  high. 
The  charity,  that  warmed  his  heart,  was  moved 
At  sight  of  the  man-monster.     With  a  smile 
Gentle,  and  affable,  and  full  of  grace, 
As  fearful  of  offending  whom  he  wished 
Much  to  persuade,  ho  plied  his  car  with  truths 
Not  harshly  thundered  forth  or  rudely  pressed, 
But,  like  his  purpose,  gracious,  kind,  and  sweet. 
'  And  dost  thou  dream,'  the  impenetrable  man 
Exclaimed,  '  that  me  the  lullabies  of  age. 
And  fantasies  of  dotards  such  as  thou. 
Can  cheat,  or  move  a  moment's  fear  in  mo  ? 
Mark  now  the  proof  I  give  thee,  that  the  brovo 
Need  no  such  aids  as  superstition  lends 
To  steel  their  hearts  against  the  dread  of  death.' 
He  spoke,  and  to  the  precipice  at  hand 


Pushed  vitb  a  madman's  fury,    Fancy  shrinks. 

And  the  blood  thrills  and  curdles,  at  the  thought 

Of  such  a  gulf  as  ho  designed  his  grave. 

But,  though  the  felon  on  his  back  could  dare 

The  dreadful  leap,  more  rational,  his  steed 

Declined  the  death,  and,  wheeling  swiftly  round. 

Or  ere  his  hoof  had  pressed  the  crumbling  verge. 

Baffled  his  rider,  saved  against  his  will. 

The  frenzy  of  the  brain  may  bo  redressed 

By  medicine  well  applied,  but  without  grace 

The  heart's  insanity  admits  no  cure. 

Enraged  the  more  by  what  might  have  reformed 

His  horrible  intent,  again  he  sought 

Destruction,  with  a  zeal  to  be  destroyed, 

With  sounding  whip,  and  rowels  dyed  in  blood. 

But  still  in  vain.     The  Providence  that  meant 

A  longer  date  to  the  far  nobler  beast 

Spared  yet  again  the  ignoble  for  his  sake. 

And  now,  his  prowess  proved,  and  his  sincere 

Incurable  obduracy  evinced,  [earned 

His  rage  grew  cool  ;  and,  pleased  perhaps  to  have 

So  cheaply  the  renown  of  that  attempt. 

With  looks  of  some  complacence  ho  resumed 

His  roa^l,  deriding  much  the  blank  amaze 

Of  good  Evander,  still  where  he  was  left 

Fixed  motionless,  and  petrified  with  dread. 

So  on  they  fared.     Discourse  on  other  themes 

Ensuing  seemed  to  obliterate  the  past ; 

And  tamer  far  for  so  much  fury  shown 

(As  is  the  course  of  rash  and  fiery  men). 

The  rude  companion  smiled,  as  if  transformed. 

But 't  was  a  transient  calm.     A  storm  was  near. 

An  unsuspected  storm.     His  hour  was  come. 

The  impious  di:.ll.„^'rv  ,,r  puw.Ts  divine 

Wasnowtoli-^nnili;.t  I  i>  mi  .  n,  th"iigU  slow  to  wrath. 


Is  I 


■ith  i 


od. 


His  horse,  as  lie  li;ul  r;in;,^lit   hi-  in; 
Snorting,  and  starting  into  sudden  nige. 
Unbidden,  and  not  now  to  be  controlled. 
Rushed  to  the  cliff,  and,  having  reached  it,  stood. 
At  once  the  shook  unseated  him  :  he  flew 
Sheer  o'er  the  craggy  barrier  ;  and,  immersed 
Deep  in  the  flood,  found,  when  he  sought  it  not, 
The  death  he  had  deserved,  and  died  alone. 
So  God  wrought  double  justice  ;  made  the  fool 
The  victim  of  his  own  tremendous  choice. 
And  taught  a  brute  the  way  to  safe  revenge. 

EVES  A  WORM  NOT  TO  BE  CAnSELBSSLY  EILI.ED  OR  nCRT.  — 

I  would  not  enter  on  my  list  of  friends 
(Though  graced  with   polished   manners  and  fine 
Yet  wanting  sensibility)  the  man,  [sense, 

Who  needlessly  sots  foot  upon  a.  worm. 
An  inadvertent  stop  may  crush  tho  snail. 
That  crawls  at  evening  in  the  public  path  ; 
But  he  that  has  humanity,  forewarned. 
Will  tread  aside  and  let  tho  reptile  live. 
The  creeping  vermin,  loathsome  to  the  sight. 
And  charged  perhaps  with  venom,  that  intrudes, 
A  visitor  unwelcome,  into  scenes 


61 


482 


RURAL  POETRY. 


Sacred  to  neatness  and  repose,  the  alcove, 
The  chamber,  or  refectory,  may  die  ; 
A  necessary  act  incurs  no  blame. 

WHAT    KILLING    OF  ANIMALS    IS  WRONG  ',  WHAT    RIGHT.  - 

Not  SO  when,  held  within  their  proper  bounds, 
And  guiltless  of  offence,  they  range  the  air. 
Or  take  their  pastime  in  the  spacious  field  : 
There  they  are  privileged  ;  and  he  that  bunts 
Or  harms  them  there  is  guilty  of  a  wrong. 
Disturbs  the  economy  of  Nature's  realm. 
Who,  when  she  formed,  designed  tbein  an  abode. 
The  sum  is  this  :    If  man's  convenience,  health, 
Or  safety,  interfere,  his  rights  and  claims 
Are  paramount,  and  must  extinguish  theirs. 
Else  they  are  all  —  the  meanest  things  that  are- 
As  free  to  live,  and  to  enjoy  that  life. 
As  God  was  free  to  form  them  at  the  first. 
Who  in  his  sovereign  wisdom  made  them  all. 


Ye  therefore,  who  love  mercy,  teach  your  sons 
To  love  it  too.     The  spring-time  of  our  years 
Is  soon  dishonored  and  defiled  in  most 
By  budding  ills,  that  ask  a  prudent  hand 
To  check  them.     But,  alas  !  none  sooner  shoot, 
If  unrestrained,  into  luxuriant  growth, 
Than  cruelty,  most  devilish  of  them  all. 
Mercy  to  him  that  shows  it,  is  the  rule 
And  righteous  limitation  of  its  act, 
By  which  Heaven  moves  in  pardoning  guilty  man 
And  he  that  shows  none,  being  ripe  in  years. 
And  conscious  of  the  outrage  he  commits, 
Shall  seek  it,  and  not  find  it,  in  his  turn. 


ANIMALS. 

Distinguished  much  by  reason,  and  still  more 
By  our  capacity  of  grace  divine. 
From  creatures  that  exist  but  for  our  sake. 
Which,  having  served  us,  perish,  we  are  held 
Accountable  ;  and  God  some  future  day 
Will  reckon  with  us  roundly  for  the  abuse 
Of  what  He  deems  no  mean  or  trivial  trust. 
Superior  as  we  are,  they  yet  depend 
Not  more  on  human  help  than  we  on  theirs. 
Their  strength,  or  speed,  or  vigilance,  were  given 
In  aid  of  our  defects. 


In  some  are  found 
Such  teachable  and  apprehensive  parts, 

Matched  with  the  exportness  of  the  brutes  in  theii 

Are  ofttimes  vanquished  and  thrown  far  behind. 

Some  show  that  nice  sagacity  of  smell. 

And  read  with  such  discernment,  in  the  port 

And  figure  of  the  man,  his  secret  aim. 

That  oft  we  owe  our  safety  to  a  skill 

We  could  not  teach,  and  must  despair  to  learn. 


But  learn  we  might,  if  not  too  proud  to  stoop 
To  quadruped  instructors,  many  a  good 
And  useful  quality,  and  virtue  too, 
Rarely  exemplified  among  ourselves. 
Attachment  never  to  be  weaned,  or  chained 
By  any  change  of  fortune  ;  proof  alike 
Against  unkindness,  absence,  and  neglect  ; 
Fidelity,  that  neither  bribe  nor  threat 
Can  move  or  warp  ;  and  gratitude  for  small 
And  trivial  favors,  lasting  as  the  life. 
And  glistening  even  in  the  dying  eye. 


Man  praises  man.     Desert  in  arts  or  arms 
Wins  public  honor  ;  and  ten  thousand  sit 
Patiently  present  at  a  sacred  song, 
Commemnr:vtiMii  ni;i<l  ;   content  to  hear 

(0  WOndrilli!    rllri't    i  )l'  1;  I  U.^ic's  poWCT  !) 

Messiah's,  u  In, y  1..,   I  l.n.k.I's  sake. 

But  loss,  iii.tliiiili..  ili:ii,  .~aLTilege  might  serve  — 

(For,  was  it  less,  what  heathen  would  have  dared 

To  strip  Jove's  statue  of  his  oaken  wreath, 

And  hang  it  up  in  honor  of  a  man  ?)  — 

Much  less  might  serve,  when  all  that  we  design 

Is  but  to  gratify  an  itching  ear. 

And  give  the  day  to  a  musician's  praise. 

Remember  Handel  ?     Who,  that  was  not  born 

Deaf  as  the  dead  to  harmony,  forgets. 

Or  can,  the  more  than  Homer  of  his  age  ? 


es  —  we  remember  him  ;  and  while  we  praise 
A  talent  so  divine,  remember  too 
That  his  most  holy  book,  from  Whom  it  came. 
Was  never  meant,  was  never  used  before, 

!  To  buckram  out  the  memory  of  a  man. 
But  hush  !  —  the  muse  perhaps  is  too  severe  ; 
And  with  a  gravity  beyond  the  size 

!  And  measure  of  the  oS'ence  rebukes  a  deed 
Less  impious  than  absurd,  and  owing  more 
To  want  of  judgment  than  to  wrong  design. 
So  in  the  chapel  of  old  Ely  House, 
When  wandering  Charles,  who  meant  to  be  the  third, 

I  Had  fled  from  William,  and  the  news  was  fresh. 
The  simple  clerk,  but  loyal,  did  announce. 
And  eke  did  rear  right  merrily,  two  staves. 
Sung  to  the  praise  and  glory  of  King  George  ! 

MAN   PRAISES   MAN.  —  GARRICK'S    IDOLATERS    SATIRIZED. 

Man  praises  man  ;  and  Garrick's  memory  next, 
When  time  hath  somewhat  mellowed  it,  and  made 
The  idol  of  our  worship  while  he  lived 
The  god  of  our  idolatry  once  more. 
Shall  have  its  altar  ;  and  the  world  shall  go 
In  pilgrimage  to  bow  before  his  shrine. 
The  theatre  too  small  shall  suffocate 
Its  squeezed  contents,  and  more  than  it  admits 
Shall  sigh  at  their  exclusion,  and  return 
I  Ungratified.     For  there  some  noble  lord 
'.  Shall  stuff  his  shoulders  with  King  Richard's  bunch,    ' 
I  Or  wrap  himself  In  Hamlet's  inky  cloak. 


WINTER —  FEBRUARY. 


488 


And  strut,  and  storm,  and  straddle,  stamp,  and  stare, 
To  show  the  world  how  Garriok  did  not  act. 


is    IDOLATBTT   I 


l-LDBRRY-TBKB. 


For  Garriok  wos  o  worshipper  himself ; 
Ho  drew  the  liturgy,  and  framed  tlie  rites 
And  solemn  ceremonial  of  the  day. 
And  called  the  world  to  worship  on  the  banks 
Of  Avon,  famed  in  song.     Ah  !  pleasant  proof 
That  piety  has  still  in  human  hearts 
Some  place,  a  spark  or  two  not  yet  extinct. 
The  mulberry-tree  was  hung  with  blooming  wreaths ; 
The  mulberry-tree  stood  centre  of  the  dance  ; 
The  mulberry-tree  was  hymned  with  dulcet  airs  ; 
And  from  his  touchwood  trunk  the  mulberry-trco 
Supplied  such  relics  us  devotion  holds 
Still  sacred,  and  preserves  with  pious  care. 
So  't  was  a  hallowed  time  ;  decorum  reigned, 
And  mirth  without  offence.     No  few  returned, 
Doubtless,  much  edified,  and  all  refreshed. 


—  Man  praises  man.     The  rabble,  all  alive 
From  tippling  benches,  cellars,  stalls,  and  styes. 
Swarm  in  the  streets.     The  statesman  of  the  day, 
A  pompous  and  slow-moving  pageant,  comes. 
Some  shout  him,  and  some  hang  upon  his  oar. 
To  gaze  in  's  eyes,  and  bless  him.     Maidens  wave 
Their  kerchiefs,  and  old  women  weep  for  joy  : 
While  others,  not  so  satisfied,  unhorse 
The  gilded  equipage,  and,  turning  loose 
His  steeds,  usurp  a  place  they  well  deserve. 
Why  ?    what  has  charmed  tliem  ?    has  ho  saved  the 
No.    Doth  he  purpose  its  salvation  ?   No.      [state  ? 
Enchanting  novelty,  that  moon  at  full. 
That  finds  out  every  crevice  of  the  head 
That  is  not  sound  and  perfect,  hath  in  theirs 
Wrought  this  disturbance.     Dut  tlie  wane  is  near. 
And  his  own  cuttle  must  suffice  him  soon. 


Thus  idly  do  wo  waste  the  breath  of  praise. 
And  dedicate  a  tribute,  in  its  use 
And  just  direction  sacred,  to  a  thing 
Doomed  to  the  dust,  or  lodged  already  there. 
Encomium  in  old  time  was  poets'  work  ; 
But  poets  having  lavishly  long  since 
E.Khausted  all  materials  of  the  art, 
The  task  now  falls  into  the  public  hand  ; 
And  I,  contented  with  an  humbler  theme. 
Have  poured  my  stream  of  panegyric  down 
The  vale  of  nature,  where  it  creeps,  and  winds 
Among  her  lovely  works,  with  a  secure 
And  unambitious  course,  reflecting  clear. 
If  not  the  virtues,  yet  the  worth,  of  brutes. 
And  I  am  recompensed,  and  deem  the  toils 
Of  poetry  not  lost,  if  verso  of  mine 
May  stand  between  an  animal  and  woe. 
And  teach  one  tyrant  pity  for  his  drudge. 


TUB  NRW  RRA  OP  LOVB  AND  MRRCT  APPROACHINO. 

The  groans  of  Nature  in  this  nether  world. 
Which  heaven  has  heard  for  ages,  have  au  end. 
Foretold  by  prophets,  and  by  poets  sung, 
Whose  fire  was  kindled  at  the  prophets'  lamp, 
The  time  of  rest,  the  promised  Sabbath,  comes. 
Si.\  thousand  years  of  sorrow  have  well  nigh 
Fulfilled  their  tilrdy  and  disostrous  course 
Over  a  sinful  world  ;  and  what  remains 
Of  this  tempestuous  state  of  human  things 
Is  merely  as  the  working  of  a  sea 
Before  a  calm,  that  rooks  itself  to  rest  : 
For  He,  whose  oar  the  winds  are,  and  the  clouds 
The  dust,  that  waits  upon  his  sultry  march. 
When  sin  hath  moved  him,  and  his  wrath  is  hot. 
Shall  visit  earth  in  mercy  ;  shall  descend 
Propitious  in  bis  chariot  paved  witlvlove  ; 
And  what  his  storms  have  blasted  and  defaced. 
For  man's  revolt,  shall  with  a  smile  repair. 


Sweet  is  the  harp  of  prophecy  ;  too  sweet 
Not  to  be  Wronged  by  a  mere  mortal  touch  ; 
Nor  can  the  wonders  it  records  be  sung 
To  meaner  music,  and  not  suffer  loss. 
But  when  a  poet,  or  when  one  like  me, 
Happy  to  rove  among  poetic  flowers. 
Though  poor  in  skill  to  rear  them,  lights  at  In.«t 
On  some  fair  theme,  some  theme  divinely  fair. 
Such  is  the  impulse  and  the  spur  he  feels 
.To  give  it  praise  proportioned  to  its  worth. 
That  not  to  attempt  it,  arduous  as  he  deems 
The  labor,  were  a  task  more  arduous  still. 

THE  MILLEXXllM.  —  PARADISE  RENEWED. 

0  scenes  surpassing;  fable,  and  yet  true. 
Scenes  of  accomplished  bliss  ;  which  who  can  see, 
Though  but  in  distant  prospect,  and  not  feel 
His  soul  refreshed  with  foretaste  of  the  joy  ? 
Rivers  of  gladness  water  all  the  earth. 
And  clothe  all  climes  with  beauty  ,-  the  reproach 
Of  barrenness  is  past.     The  fruitful  field 
Laughs  with  abundance  ;  and  the  land,  once  lean. 
Or  fertile  only  in  ite  own  disgrace. 
Exults  to  see  its  thistly  curse  repealed. 
The  various  seasons  woven  into  one. 
And  that  one  season  an  eternal  Spring, 
The  garden  fears  no  blight,  and  needs  no  fence. 
For  there  is  none  to  covet,  all  arc  full. 
The  lion,  and  the  libbard,  and  the  bear. 
Graze  with  the  fearless  flocks  ;  all  bask  at  noon 
Together,  or  all  gambol  in  the  shade 


Of  the  ! 


and  < 


nk  one  common  stream. 


Antipathies  are  none.     No  foe  to  man 
Lurks  in  the  serpent  now  :  the  mother  sees. 
And  smiles  to  sec,  her  infant's  playful  hand 
Stretched  forth  to  dally  with  the  crested  worm. 
To  stroke  his  azure  neck,  or  to  receive 
The  lambent  homage  of  his  arrowy  tongno. 
and  all  mankind 


484 


RURAL    POETRY. 


One  Lord,  one  Father.     Error  has  no  place  ; 

That  creeping  pestilence  is  driven  away  ; 

The  breath  of  heaven  has  chased  it.     In  the  heart 

No  passion  touches  a  discordant  string  ; 

But  all  is  harmony  and  love.     Disease 

Is  not  :  the  pure  and  uncontaminate  blood 

Holds  its  due  course,  nor  fears  the  frost  of  age. 

One  song  employs  all  nations  ;  and  all  cry, 

'  Worthy  the  Lamb,  for  He  was  slain  for  us  ! ' 

The  dwellers  in  the  vales  and  on  the  rocks 

Shout  to  each  other,  and  the  mountain  tops 

From  distant  mountains  catch  the  flying  joy  ; 

Till,  nation  after  nation  taught  the  strain. 

Earth  rolls  the  rapturous  Hosanna  round. 

Behold  the  measure  of  the  promise  filled  ; 

See  Salem  built,  the  labor  of  a  God  ! 

Bright  as  a  sun  the  sacred  city  shines  ; 

All  kingdoms  and  all  princes  of  the  earth 

Flock  to  that  light :  the  glory  of  all  lands 

Flows  into  her  ;   unbounded  is  her  joy, 

And  endless  her  increase.     Thy  rams  are  there, 

Nebaioth,'  and  the  flocks  of  Kedar  there  ; 

The  looms  of  Ormus,-  and  the  mines  of  Ind, 

And  Saba's  ^  spicy  groves,  pay  tribute  there. 

Praise  is  in  all  her  gates  :   upon  her  walls, 

And  in  her  streets,  and  in  her  spacious  courts. 

Is  heard  salvation.     Eastern  .Java  there 

Kneels  with  the  native  of  the  farthest  west  ; 

And  ^Ethiopia  spreads  abroad  the  hand. 

And  worships.     Her  report  has  travelled  forth 

Into  all  lands.     From  every  clime  they  come 

To  see  thy  beauty  and  to  share  thy  joy, 

0  Sion  !  an  assembly  such  as  earth 

Saw  never,  such  as  Heaven  stoops  down  to  see. 


THE  KESTOBATION  I 


TEEIR    PRISTISE    PER- 


Thus  heavenward  all  things  tend.     For  all  were 
Perfect,  and  all  must  be  at  Icugth  restored.      [once 
So  God  has  greatly  purposed  ;   Who  would  else 
In  his  dishonored  works  Himself  endure 
Dishonor,  and  be  wronged  without  redress. 
Haste,  then,  and  wheel  away  a  shattered  world. 
Ye  slow-revolving  seasons  !  we  would  see 
(A  sight  to  which  our  eyes  arc  strangers  yet) 
A  world  that  does  not  dread  and  hate  His  laws, 
And  suffer  for  its  crime  ;  would  learn  how  fair 
The  creature  is  that  God  pronounces  good, 
How  pleasant  in  itself  what  pleases  Him. 


i    FAL 


0,  AS  ] 


Here  every  drop  of  honey  hides  a  sting  ; 
Worms  wind  themsolvcs«into  our  sweetest  flowers  ; 
And  even  the  joy,  that  haply  some  poor  heart 


1  Nebaioth  and  Kedar,  the  sons 
tors  of  the  Arabs,  in  the  prophet 
to,  may  be  reasonably  considered 
Gentiles  at  large. 

-  Orraus,  the  famous  emporium  of  Asiatic 
der  the  Portuguese  ;  it  was  on  an  island  at  t 
of  the  Persian  Gulf. 
I        3  In  South  Arabia. 


Derives  from  heaven,  pure  as  the  fountain  is, 
Is  sullied  in  the  stream,  taking  a  taint 
From  touch  of  human  lips,  at  best  impure. 
0  for  a  world  in  principle  as  chaste 
As  this  is  gross  and  selfish  !  over  which 
Custom  and  prejudice  shall  bear  no  sway, 
j  That  govern  all  things  here,  shouldering  aside 
I  The  meek  and  modest  truth,  and  forcing  her 
I  To  seek  a  refuge  from  the  tongue  of  strife 
j  In  nooks  obscure,  far  from  the  ways  of  men  ; 
I  Where  violence  shall  never  lift  the  sword, 
I  Nor  cunning  justify  the  proud  man's  wrong. 
Leaving  the  poor  no  remedy  but  tears  : 
Where  he,  that  fills  an  office,  shall  esteem 
The  occasion  it  presents  of  doing  good 
More  than  the  perquisite  :  where  law  shall  speak 
Seldom,  and  never  but  as  wisdom  prompts 
And  equity  ;  not  jealous  more  to  guard 
A  worthless  form,  than  to  decide  aright : 
Where  fashion  shall  not  sanctify  abuse. 
Nor  smooth  good  breeding  (supplemental  grace) 
With  lean  performance  ape  the  work  of  love  ! 


Come,  then,  and,  added  to  thy  many  crowns, 
Receive  yet  one,  the  crown  of  all  the  earth. 
Thou  wlio  alone  ait  worthy  !     It  was  thine 
By  ancient  covenant,  ere  nature's  birth  ; 
And  Thou  hast  made  it  thine  by  purchase  since, 
And  overpaid  its  value  with  thy  blood. 
Thy  saints  proclaim  Thee  King  ;  and  in  their  hearts 
Thy  title  is  engraven  with  a  pen 
Dipped  in  the  founfiiin  -f  ■  ii  lunl  lu\o. 
Thy  saints  proclaim   I         I.  mlI  thy  delay 

Gives  courage  to  tl.'  :i  iiM  they  see 

The  dawn  of  thy  l;i-(  ;iil',.iil  l-i,_  .Ir.ired, 
Would  creep  into  the  tnuvels  td'  the  hills, 
And  flee  for  safety  to  the  falling  rooks. 


The  very  spirit  of  the  world  is  tired 
Of  its  own  taunting  question,  asked  so  long, 
'  Where  is  tlic  jininiisr  >it"  your  Lord's  approach?' 
The  infidri  Ili-  -Imi  In-  l«,lt^  away, 
Till,  his.>.h;,ii-ir,l  ,|,m,r  yielding  none. 
He  gleans  the  Ijlanted  shafts  that  have^recoiled, 
And  aims  them  at  the  shield  of  Truth  again. 
The  veil  is  rent,  rent  too  by  priestly  hands, 
That  hides  divinity  from  mortal  eyes  ; 
And  all  the  mysteries  to  fiiith  proposed. 
Insulted  and  traduced,  are  cast  aside. 
As  useless,  to  the  moles  and  to  the  bats. 
They  nnw  arc  deemed  the  faithful,  and  are  praised, 
Alli.i,  r,.n,t;iiit  Hilly  in  rejecting  Thee, 
I'criy  thy  'hmIImuiI  with  a  martyr's  zeal, 
.\nij  quit  thvir  nlliee  for  their  error's  sake. 
Blind,  and  in  love  with  darkness  !  yet  even  these 
Worthy,  compared  with  sycophants,  who  kneel. 
Thy  name  adoring,  and  then  preach  Thee  man  ! 


•WINTER  —  FEBRUAKY. 


So  fares  thy  ohnich.  But  how  thy  ohuroh  may  faro 
The  world  takes  little  thought.  Who  will  may 
And  what  they  will.  All  pastors  arc  alike  [preach, 
To  wandering  sheep  resolved  to  follow  none. 

PLEASCRB  AND  GAIN' TnE  WORLD*S  COPS.  —  TUB  KNO  AT 

Two  gods  divide  them  all  —  Pleasure  and  Gain  : 
For  these  they  live,  they  sacrifice  to  these. 
And  in  their  service  wage  perpetual  war       [hearts, 
With   conscience  ond  with   Thee.     Lust   in   their 
And  mischief  in  their  hands,  they  roam  the  earth, 
To  prey  upon  each  other  ;  stubborn,  fierce. 
High-minded,  foaming  out  their  own  disgrace. 
Thy  prophets  speak  of  such  ;  and,  noting  down 
The  features  of  the  last  degenerate  times, 
Exhibit  every  lineament  of  those. 
Come,  then,  and,  added  to  thy  many  crowns, 
Receive  yet  one,  as  radiant  as  the  rest. 
Due  to  thy  last  and  most  effectual  work, 
Thy  word  fulfilled,  the  conquest  of  a  world  ! 


485 


BIDS    XOT    THB    monKST    USBFCLSESS 

Perhaps  the  self-approving,  haughty  AVorld, 
That  OS  she  sweeps  him  with  her  whistling  silks 
Scarce  deigns  to  notice  him,  or,  if  she  see, 
Deems  him  a  cipher  in  the  works  of  God, 
Receives  advantage  from  his  noiseless  hours. 
Of  which  she  little  dreams.     Perhaps  she  owes 
Her  sunshine  and  her  rain,  her  blooming  .Spring 
And  plenteous  harvest,  to  the  prayer  ho  makes 
When,  Isaac-like,  the  solitary  saint 
Walks  forth  to  meditate  at  eventide. 
And  think  on  her,  who  thinks  not  for  herself. 
Forgive  him,  then,  thou  bustler  in  concerns 
i  Of  little  worth,  an  idler  in  the  best, 
If,  author  of  u -  mU  1.;.  r,  .11,. I  -,'mv  goud, 
He  seek  his  pr^                          '      ru.  ans 
That  may  ail\: ,  !■  1:  .  imi.i  i I.t.  tliinc. 

Nor,  though  hr   Ir.    li   111 I'l    |.lllll  uf   life, 

Engage  no 
Account  hii 


He  is  the  happy  man,  whose  life  even  now 
Shows  somewhat  of  that  happier  life  to  come  ; 
Who,  doomed  to  an  obscure  but  tranquil  state. 
Is  pleased  with  it,  and,  were  he  free  to  choose. 
Would  make  his  fate  his  choice  ;   whom  peace,  the 
Of  virtue,  and  whom  virtue,  fruit  of  faith,      [fruit 
Prepare  for  happiness —  bespeak  him  one 
Content  indeed  to  sojourn  while  he  must 
Below  the  skies,  but  having  there  his  home. 
The  world  o'erlooks  him  in  her  busy  .search 
Of  objects,  more  illustrious  in  her  view  ; 
And,  occupied  as  earnestly  as  slio, 
Though  more  sublimely,  he  o'erlooks  the  world. 
She  scorns  his  pleasures,  for  she  knows  them  not  ; 
He  seeks  not  hers,  for  he  has  proved  them  vain. 
He  cannot  skim  the  ground  like  summer  birds 
Pursuing  gilded  Hies  ;  and  such  he  deems 
Her  honors,  her  emoluments,  her  joys. 


.ud  eujuy  much  ease, 
umbrance  on  the  state, 

Receiving  benefits,  and  rendering  none. 

His  sphere,  though  humble,  if  that  humble  sphere 
j  Shine  with  his  fair  e.\ample,  —  and  though  small 

His  influence,  if  that  influence  all  be  spent 
!  In  soothing  sorrow  and  in  quenching  strife, 
:  In  aiding  helpless  indigence,  in  works 

From  which  at  least  a  grateful  few  derive 

Some  tasto  of  c.,nir..rt  in  a  world  of  woo — 

Then   Nt   til.'   -M,,.  ,.:!:. .,,-    -n,,! feSS 


n-ell 


Holds  no  ignoble,  though  a  slighted,  place. 


VIRTUES    MOBB    FELT   TBAS    SEE.V.  —  TRCB  1 


Therefore  in  contemplation  is  his  bliss,        [earth 
Whose   power  is  such,  that  whom  she  lifts   from 
She  makes  familiar  with  a  heaven  unseen. 
And  shows  him  glories  yet  to  be  revealed. 
Not  slothful  he,  though  seeming  unemployed, 
And  censured  oft  as  useless.     Stillest  streams 
Oft  water  fairest  meadows,  and  the  bird 
That  flutters  least  is  longest  on  the  wing. 
AsK  him,  indeed,  what  trophies  he  has  raised, 
Or  what  achievements  of  immortal  fame 
He  purposes,  and  he  shall  answer — None. 
His  warfare  is  within.     There  unfatigued 
His  fervent  spirit  labors.     There  he  fights. 
And  there  obta,ins  fresh  triumphs  o'er  himself, 
And  never-withering  wreaths  ;  compared  with  which 
The  laurels  that  a  Cwsar  reaps  are  weeds. 


The  man  whose  virtues  are  more  felt  than  seen 
Must  drop  indeed  the  hope  of  public  praise  ; 
But  he  may  boast,  what  few  that  win  it  can. 
That,  if  his  country  stand  not  by  its  skill, 

!  At  least  his  follies  have  not  wrought  her  fall. 
Polite  refinement  offers  him  in  vain 
Her  golden  tube,  through  which  a  sensual  world 

!  Draws  gross  impurity,  and  likes  it  well, 

j  The  neat  conveyance  hiding  all  th'  oSbnce. 
Not  that  he  peevishly  rejects  a  mode 

!  Because  that  world  adopts  it.     If  it  bear 
The  stamp  and  clear  impression  of  good  sense, 

I  And  be  not  costly  more  than  of  true  worth, 

[  He  puts  it  on,  and  for  decorum  sake 
Can  wear  it  even  as  gracefully  as  she. 

I  She  judges  of  refinement  by  the  eye, 
He  by  the  test  of  conscience,  and  a  heart 

I  Not  soon  deceived  ;  aware  that  what  is  base 
No  polish  can  make  sterling  ;  and  that  vice, 
Though  well  perfumed  and  elegantly  dressed. 
Like  an  unburied  carcass  triokcd-with  floworSf 

I  Is  but  a  garnished  nuisance,  fitter  far 

I  For  cleanly  riddance  than  for  fair  attire. 


KURAL    POETRY. COWPER TUSSER. 


So  life  glides  smoothly  and  by  stealth  away, 
More  golden  than  that  ago  of  fablt-d  gold 
Renowned  in  ancient  song  ;  not  vexed  with  ca 
Or  stained  with  guilt,  beneficent,  apiiroved 
Of  God  and  man,  and  peaceful  in  its  end. 
So  glide  my  life  away  !  and  so  at  last, 
My  share  of  duties  decently  fulfilled. 
May  some  disease,  not  tardy  to  perform 
Its  destined  office,  yet,  with  gentle  stroke. 
Dismiss  me  weary  to  a  safe  retreat. 
Beneath  the  turf  that  I  have  often  trod. 


THE  POET  REVIEWS  HIS  'TASK,' 

It  shall  not  grieve  me  then,  that  once,  when 
To  dress  a  Sofa  with  the  flowers  of  verse,  [called 
I  played  a  while,  obedient  to  the  fair, 


With  that  light  task  ;  but  soon,  to  please  her  more, 
Whom  flowers  alone  I  knew  would  little  please, 
Let  fall  th'  unfinished  wreath,  and  roved  for  fruit  ; 
Roved  far,  and, gathered  much  ;  some  harsh, 't  is 

Picked  from  the  thorns  and  briers  of  reproof. 
But  wholesome,  well-digested  ;  grateful  some 
To  palates  that  can  taste  immortal  truth  ; 
Insipid  else,  and  sure  to  be  despised. 
But  all  is  in  His  hand,  whose  praise  I  seek. 
In  vain  the  poet  sings,  and  the  world  hears, 
If  He  regard  not,  though  divine  the  theme. 
'T  is  not  in  artful  measures,  in  the  chime 
And  idle  tinkling  of  a  minstrel's  lyre. 
To  charm  His  ear,  whose  eye  is  on  the  heart ; 
Whose  frown  can  disappoint  the  proudest  strain, 
;  Whose  approbation  —  prosper  even  mine. 


fusscr's 


Jehniari's  iitsbanhi/' 


Forgotten  t 


Who  layeth  on  dung  ere  he  layeth  on  plow. 
Such  husbandry  useth  as  thrift  doth  allow  : 
One  month  ere  ye  spread  it,  so  still  let  it  stand. 
Ere  over  to  plough  it  ye  take  it  in  hand.'     *     * 

Sow  peason  and  beans  in  the  wane  of  the  moon," 
Who  sowoth  them  sooner,  he  soweth  too  soon, 
That  they  with  the  planet  may  rest  and  arise. 
And  flourish  with  bearing  most  plentifulwise. 
Friend,  harrow  in  time,  by  some  manner  of  means. 
Not  only  thy  peason,  but  also  thy  beans  ;     *     * 
Both  peason  and  beans  sow  afore  ye  do  plow  ; 
The  sooner  ye  harrow,  the  better  for  you.     *     * 

Good  provender  laboring  horses  would  have, 
Good  hay  and  good  plenty  plough-oxen  do  crave  ; 
To  hale  out  thy  muck  and  to  plow  up  thy  ground, 
Or  else  it  may  hinder  thee  many  a  pound. 
Who  slacketh  his  tillage  a  carter  to  be, 
For  groat  got  abroad,  at  homo  lose  shall  three  ; 
And  so,  by  his  doing,  he  brings  out  of  heart 
Both  land  for  the  corn  and  horse  for  the  cart. 
Who  abuseth  his  cattle,  and  starves  them  for  meat. 
By  carting  or  plowing,  his  gain  is  not  great ; 
Where  he  that  with  labor  can  use  them  aright, 
Hath  grain  to  his  comfort,  and  cattle  in  plight. 

Buy  quickset  at  market,  new  gathered  and  small. 
Buy  bushes  or  willow  to  fence  it  withal  ; 

ie  unapread,  and  without  ploughing 
;  practice  and  to  reason.  —  Mavor. 
•nt  belief  in  planetary  influences ; 
yhich  finds  few  advocates  now. 


Set  willows  to  grow  in  the  stead  of  a  stake, 
For  cattle  in  summer  a  shadow  to  make. 
Stick  plenty  of  boughs  among  runcival  pease. 
To  climber  thereon,  and  to  branch  at  their  ease  ; 
So  doing,  more  tender  and  greater  they  wex. 
If  peacock  and  turkey  leave  jobbing  their  hex. 
Now  sow,  and  go  harrow,  where  redge  ye  did  dr; 
The  seed  of  the  bramble,  with  kernel  and  haw  ; 
Which  covered,  overly,  sun  to  shut  out. 
Go  see  it  be  ditched  and  fenced  about.i 

Where  banks  be  amended  and  newly  up-cast, 
Sow  mustard-seed  after  a  shower  be  past ; 
Where  plots  full  of  nettles  be  noisome  to  eye, 
Sow  thereupon  hemp-seed,  and  nettle  will  die. 

Land-meadow  that  yearly  is  spared  for  hay. 
Now  fence  it,  and  spare  it,  and  dung  it  ye  may. 
Get  mole-catcher  cunningly  mole  for  to  kill, 
And  harrow  and  cast  abroad  every  hill.     *     * 

Friend,  alway  let  this  be  a  part  of  thy  care, 
For  shift  of  good  pasture  lay  pasture  to  spare. 
,So  have  you  good  feeding  in  bushets  and  leaze,^ 
And  quickly  safe  finding  of  cattle  at  ease. 

When  cattle  may  run  about  roving  at  will. 
From  pasture  to  pasture,  poor  belly  to  fill  ; 
Then  pasture  and  cattle,  both  hungry  and  bare, 
For  want  of  good  husbandry  worser  do  fare.     *     * 

1  Formerly  common  fields  were  fenced  off  from  the  pas- 
tures by  making  a  ridge  of  perhaps  twenty  or  thirty  feet, 
which  was  sown  with  hips,  haws,  hazel-nuts,  and  such  like, 
:  ditching  it  round,  and  weeding  it  at  intervals.  In  due  time 
this  became  a  productive  coppice,  and  is  what  we  now  term 
i  a  Shaw,  or  spring. — Mavor.  This  might  be  very  useful  on 
1  our  western  prairies. —J.  2  Small  closes  near  home. 


pastorals  for  fcbniarii. 


BROWNE'S  "  RKSPECT  TO  AGE." 
(A.  D.  1614.) 


Where  is  every  piping  lad, 
That  the  fields  are  not  yclad 

With  their  milk-white  sheep? 
Tell  mc  :  is  it  holiday, 
Or  if,  in  the  month  of  May, 

Use  they  long  to  sleep  ? 

PIERS. 

Thomalin,  't  is  not  too  late, 
For  the  turtle  and  her  mate 

Sitten  yet  in  nest ; 
And  the  thrustle  hath  not  been 
Gathering  worms  yet  on  the  green, 

But  attends  her  rest. 
Not  a  bird  hath  taught  her  young, 
Nor  her  morning's  lesson  sung, 

In  the  shady  grove  : 
But  the  nightingale,  in  darlc, 
Singing,  wolse  the  mounting  lark  ; 

She  records  her  love. 
Not  the  sun  hath  with  his  beams 
Gilded  yet  our  crystal  streams 

Rising  from  the  sea. 
Mists  do  crown  the  mountain's  tops 
And  each  pretty  myrtle  drops, 

'T  is  but  newly  day. 
Yet  sec  yonder  (though  unwist) 
Some  man  comcth  in  the  mist ; 

Hast  thou  hira  beheld? 
With  a  dog,  and  staff  in  hand. 
Limping  for  his  eld. 


Yes,  I  see  him,  and  do  know  him. 
And  we  all  do  rev'renco  owe  him  ; 

'T  is  the  aged  sire, 
Neddy,  that  was  wont  to  make 
Such  great  feasting  at  the  wake. 

And  the  blessing-fire.' 
Good  old  man  !  see  how  he  walks. 
Painful  and  among  the  balks 

Picking  locks  of  wool  ; 
I  have  known  the  day  when  he 


Had  as  much  as  any  three. 

When  their  lofts  were  full. 
Underneath  yond  hanging  rooks. 
All  the  valley  with  his  flocks 

Was  whilome  overspread  : 
Ho  had  milch  goats  without  poors. 
Well-hung  kine,  and  fattened  steers 

Many  liundred  head. 
Wilkins'  cote  his  dairy  was. 
For  a  dwelling  it  may  pass 

With  the  best  in  town. 
Curds  and  creams,  with  other  cheer, 
Have  I  had  there  in  the  year 

For  a  greeny  gown. 
Lasses  kept  it,  as  again 
Were  not  fitted  on  the  plain 

For  a  lusty  dance  : 
And  at  parting  home  would  take  us 
Flawns  or  syllabubs  to  mako  us 

For  our  jouissancc. 
And  though  some,  in  spite,  would  tell, 
Yet  old  Neddy  took  it  well  ; 

Bidding  us  again 
Never  at  his  cote  be  strange  :  — . 
Unto  him  that  wrought  this  change 

Micklc  be  the  pain  ! 


What  disaster,  Thomalin, 

This  mischance  hath  clothed  him  in, 

Quickly  tellon  mo  : 
Rue  I  do  his  state  the  more. 
That  he  clipped  heretofore 

Some  felicity. 
Have  by  night  acoursed  thieves 
Slain  his  lambs  or  stolon  bis  beeves? 

Or  consuming  fire 
Brent  his  shearing-house,  or  stall. 
Or  a  deluge  drowned  all  ? 

Tell  mo  it  entire. 
Have  the  winters  been  so  set 
To  rain  and  snow,  that  they  have  wet 

All  his  driest  laire  ; 
By  which  means  his  sheep  have  got 
Such  a  deadly,  cureless  rot. 

That  none  living  are  ? 

TBOMALIS. 

Neither  waves,  nor  thieves,  nor  fire, 
Nor  have  rots  impoorcd  this  sire, 

Suretyship,  nor  yet 
Was  the  usurer  helping  on 
With  bis  damned  extortion, 

Nor  the  chains  of  debt. 


488                              •       RURAL    POETRY. BROWNE FLETCHER. 

But  deceit,  that  ever  lies, 

THOttiLffl. 

Strongest  armed  for  treacheries 

All's  bereft  him, 

In  a  bosomed  friend  — 

Save  he  hath  a  little  croud 

That  (and  only  that)  hath  brought  it, 

(He  in  youth  was  of  it  proud), 

Cursed  be  the  head  that  wrought  it  ! 

And  a'dog  to  dance  ; 

And  the  basest  end. 

With  them  he,  on  holidays, 

Grooms  he  had,  and  he  did  send  them, 

In  the  farmers'  houses  plays 

With  his  herds  aaeld  to  tend  them. 

Had  they  further  been  : 

Sluggish,  lazy,  thriftless  elves. 

See  :  he  's  near,  let 's  rise  and  meet  him. 

Sheep  had  better  kept  themselves 

From  the  foxes  teen. 
Some  would  kill  their  sheep,  and  then 

And  with  dues  to  old  age  greet  him. 
It  is  fitting  80. 

Bring  their  master  home  again 

THO.MALIN. 

Nothing  but  the  skin  ; 

'T  is  a  motion  good  and  sage. 

Telling  bun,  how  in  the  mom 

Honor  still  is  due  to  age  ; 

In  the  fold  they  found  them  torn. 

Up  and  let  us  go. 

And  near  lying  lin. 

If  they  went  unto  the  fair 

With  a  score  of  fattened  ware, 

And  did  chance  to  sell. 

FLETCHER'S  "SHEPHERD  LIFE." 

If  old  Neddy  had  again 

Thrice,  0  thrice  happy,  shepherd's  life  and  state, 

Half  his  own;  I  dare  well  sain. 

When  courts  are  happiness'  unhappy  pawns  ! 

That  but  seldom  fell. 

His  cottage  low,  and  safely  humble  gate,       [fawns. 

They  at  their  return  would  say. 

Shuts  out   proud  Fortune,  with  her  scorns  and 

Such  a  man,  or  such,  would  pay. 

No  feared  treason  breaks  his  quiet  sleep  : 

Well  known  of  your  hyne. 

Singing  all  day,  his  flocks  he  learns  to  keep  ; 

Alas,  poor  man  !  that  subtle  knave 

Himself  as  innocent  as  are  his  simple  sheep. 

Undid  him  and  vaunts  it  brave, 

Though  his  master  pine. 

No  Serian  worms  he  knows,  that  with  their  thread 

Of  his  master  he  would  beg 

Draw  out  their  silken  lives  ;  nor  silken  pride  : 

Such  a  lamb  that  broke  his  leg  : 

His  lambs'  warm  fleece  well  fits  his  little  need. 

And  if  there  were  none. 

Not  in  that  proud  Sidonian  tincture  dyed  : 

To  the  fold  by  night  he  'd  hie, 

No  empty  hopes,  no  courtly  fears,  him  fright ; 

And  them  hurt  full  ruefully, 

Nor  begging  wants  his  middle  fortune  bite  : 

Or  with  staer  or  stone. 

But  sweet  content  exiles  both  misery  and  spite. 

He  would  have  petitions  new, 
And  for  desperate  debts  would  sue 

Instead  of  music  and  base  flattering  tongues. 
Which  wait  to  first  salute  my  lord's  uprise  ; 

Neddy  had  forgot  : 
He  would  grant :  the  other  then 

The  cheerful  lark  wakes  him  with  early  songs. 

And  birds'  sweet  whistling  notes  unlock  his  eyes; 

Tares  from  poor  and  aged  men  ; 

In  country  plays  is  all  the  strife  he  uses, 

Or  in  jails  they  rot. 

Or  song,  or  dance  unto  the  rural  Muses  ; 

Neddy  lately  rich  in  store, 

And,  but  in  music's  sports,  all  difference  refuses. 

Giving  much,  deceived  more, 

On  a  sudden  fell. 

His  certain  life,  that  never  can  deceive  him, 

Then  the  steward  lent  him  gold. 

Is  full  of  thousand  sweets  and  rich  content  : 

Yet  no  more  than  might  be  told 

The  smooth-leaved  beeches  in  the  field  receive  him 

Worth  his  master's  cell. 

With  coolest  shades  till  noontide's  rage  is  spent : 

That  is  gone,  and  all  beside 

His  life  is  neither  tost  in  boisterous  seas 

(Well-a-day,  alack  the  tide); 

Or  troublous  world,  nor  lost  in  slothful  ease  ; 

In  a  hollow  den. 

Pleased  and  full  blessed  he  lives,  when  he  his  God 

Underneath  yond  gloomy  wood 

can  please. 

Wons  he  now,  and  wails  the  brood 
Of  ungrateful  men. 

His  bod  of  wool  yields  safe  and  quiet  sleeps, 

While  by  his  side  his  faithful  spouse  hath  place  ; 

PIEES. 

His  little  son  into  his  bosom  creeps, 

But,  alas  !  now  he  is  old. 

The  lively  picture  of  his  father's  face  : 

Bit  with  hunger,  nipt  with  cold. 

Never  his  humble  house  or  state  torment  him  ; 

What  is  left  him? 

Less  he  could  like,  if  loss  his  God  had  sent  him  ; 

Or  to  succor,  or  relieve  him. 

And  when  he  dies,  green  turfs  with  grassy  tomb 

Or  from  wants  off  to  reprieve  him. 

content  him. 

ilijcr's    "^ncccc.' 


Tho  subject  proposwl.    Dedicatory  mMrcss.    Of  pi 
general  fit  for  sheep  ;  for  tine-wooUetl  slicep  } 
wooHeil  sheep.    Defects  of  piisturcSf  an ' 
Of  climates.    The  moisture  of  the  Enj;! 

cattHi.    Particular  beaut 

of  Enf;lish  sheep  -,  ttic 

scribeil.     Different  liimls  of  foreign  sllecp.    The  several 

th'ir  r--iii.,ii,.^.  ^!|. .  p  !  ,1  liy  in-iincl  to  tlieir  projwr 
ru>..l  aiui  |.li>>M-.  oi  ih.; -iir].)irra\  ^LTip*  and  its  funii- 
tur-'.  (';in-  Mf  sh''.'!.  in  ui|.]>iiiL'-tiiiH-.  Of  the  castration 
of  l.iiiil's,  ami  tlif  ri'I.iiiii;  of  slu.p.  Various  precepts 
n-lative  to  ctians.'os  of  weather  and  seasons.  Particular 
car-;  of  new-l'alU-n  lambs.  The  advantages  and  security 
of  tiK'  Kii^-li^ti  tihepherd,  above  those  in  hotter  or  colder 
cliiiiat'-s,  extiiiplifled  with  resi)ect    to  Lapland,  Italy, 


banks  of  the  Severn. 


SUBJECT— SBBBP;  WBiVISO,  TRAPS  ;   ADDnESS  TO  JiyMPBS, 
SWilSS,   AND   SlKRClIASrS,    lEUlSLATOBS,   AND  TUB  K1.\0. 

The  ciiro  of  sheep,  the  labors  of  tho  loom, 
And  arts  of  trade,'  I  sing.     Ye  rural  nymphs  ! 
Ye  swains,  and  princely  merchants  !  aid  the  verse. 
And  ye,  high-trusted  guardians  of  our  isle. 
Whom  public  voice  approves,  or  lot  of  birth 
To  the  great  charge  assigns  !  ye  good  of  all 
Degrees,  all  sects  !  bo  present  to  my  song. 
So  may  distress,  and  wretchedness,  and  want, 
Tho  wide  felicities  of  labor  learn  : 
So  may  the  proud  attempts  of  restless  Oaul 
From  our  strong  borders,  like  a  broken  wave. 
In  empty  foam  retire.     But  chiefly  thou. 
The  people's  shepherd,  eminently  placed 
Over  tho  numerous  swains  of  every  vale, 
"Witli  well-permitted  power  and  watchful  eye 
On  each  gay  field  to  shed  beneficence. 
Celestial  olHce  !  thou  protect  tho  song. 

TDB  BEST  PASTCBES  DESCRIBED  ;     AIRT  DOWNS  AND  GBNTLB 
HILLS  *,   ARID,  SANDV,   CUALKV,   FLINTY,    ETC. 

On  spacious  airy  downs  and  gentle  hills, 
With  grass  and  thyme  o'crspread,  and  clover  wild, 
Where  ."irailing  Phcobus  tempers  every  breeze. 
The  fairest  flocks  rejoice  :  they,  nor  of  halt. 
Hydropic  tumors,  nor  of  rot,  complain. 
Evils  deformed  and  foul  ;  nor  with  hoarso  cough 
Disturb  tho  music  of  tho  pastoral  pipe  ; 
But,  crowding  to  the  note,  with  silence  soft 
The  close-woven  carpet  graze,  where  Nature  blends 
Flowerets  and  herbage  of  minutest  size, 
Iiinii.vious  luxury.     Wide  airy  downs 
Are  Health's  gay  walks  to  shepherd  and  to  sheep. 

All  arid  soils,  with  sand  or  chalky  flint. 
Or  shells  diluvian  mingled,  and  the  turf 

1  See  note  at  the  end  of  Book  in.,  p.  S09. 


That  mantles  over  rocks  of  brittle  stono. 

Be  thy  regard  ;  and  where  low-tufted  broom. 

Or  box,  or  berried  juniper  arise  ; 

Or  the  tall  growth  of  glossy-rinded  beech  ; 

And  where  the  burrowing  rabbit  turns  the  dust ; 

And  whore  the  dappled  deer  delights  to  bound. 


Such  are  the  downs  of  Banstead,  edged  with  woods 
And  towory  Tillas  ;  such  Dorcestrian  fields. 
Whose  flocks  innumerous  whiten  all  tlie  land  : 
Such  those  slow-climbing  wilds  that  lead  the  step 
Insensibly  to  Dover's  windy  ells', 
Tremendous  height  !  and  such  the  clovercd  lawns 
And  sunny  mounts  of  beauteous  Normnnton,' 
Health's  cheerful  haunt,  and  tho  selected  walk 
Of  Heathcote's  leisure  :  such  the  spacious  plain 
Of  Sarum,'  spread  like  Ocean's  boundless  round. 
Where  solitary  Stonehenge,  gray  with  mnss. 
Ruin  of  ages  !  nods  :  such,  too,  tho  leas 
And  ruddy  tilth  which  spiry  Ross  beholds. 
From  a  green  hillock,  o'er  her  lofty  elms  ; 
And  Lemster's'  brooky  tract,  and  airy  Croft  ;* 
And  such  Hnrleian  Eywood's'  swelling  turf. 
Waved  as  the  billows  of  a  rolling  sea  ; 
And  Shobden,^  for  its  lofty  terrace  famed. 
Which  from  a  mountain's  ridge,  elate  o'er  woods. 
And  girt  with  all  .-^iluria,'  sees  around 
Regions  on  rv^fn-  lil  irlr.l  ,i,  tlie  clouds. 


>(nF. 


Pic 


Hills,  rivers,  woods,  and  lawns,  and  purple  groves 

Pomaccous,  mingled  with  the  curling  growth 

Of  tendril  hops,  that  flaunt  upon  their  jH)le3,  | 

More  airy  wild  than  vines  along  the  sides 

Of  treacherous  Falernum,"  or  that  hill 

Vesuvius,  where  tho  bowers  of  Bacchus  rose. 

And  Herculancan  and  Pompcian  domes. 

B^T  LANDS  FOR  LONG-WOOL  SHEEP   DESCRIBFJ). 

But  if  thy  prudent  care  would  cultivate 
Leicestrian  fleeces,  what  the  sinewy  arm 
Combs  through  the  spiky  steel  in  lengthened  flakes; 


■  Croft,  a  seat  of  Sir-Archer  Croft. 

a  Ey  wood,  a  seat  of  the  Earl  of  Oxford. 

4  Shobden,  a  seat  of  Lonl  Bateman. 

>  Siluria,  the  part  of  l^ngland  which  lies  west  of  the 
Severn,  namely,  Herefordshire,  Monmouthshire,  etc. 

<<  Treacherous  Falernum  -,  because  part  of  the  hills  of 
Faleriium  wjis  many  yeiirs  ago  overturned  by  an  eruption 
of  Are,  and  is  now  a  high        '  '  -      -    .    . 


1 


KTJRAL   POETRY. 


Rich  saponaceous  loam,  that  slowly  drinks 

The  blackening  shower,  and  fattens  with  the  draught, 

Or  marl  with  clay  deep-mixed,  be  then  thy  choice, 

Of  one  consistence,  one  complexion,  spread   • 

Through  all  thy  glebe  ;  where  no  deceitful  veins 

Of  envious  gravel  lurk  beneath  the  turf. 

To  loose  the  creeping  waters  from  their  springs, 

Tainting  the  pasturage  :  and  let  thy  fields 

In  slopes  descend  and  mount,  that  chilling  rains 

May  trickle  off,  and  hasten  to  the  brooks. 


Yet  some  defect  in  all  on  earth  appears  ; 
All  seek  for  help,  all  press  for  social  aid. 
Too  cold  the  grassy  mantle  of  the  marl. 
In  stormy  winter's  long  and  dreary  nights, 
For  cumbent  sheep  ;  from  broken  slumber  oft 
They' rise  benumbed,  and  vainly  shift  the  couch  ; 
Their  wasted  sides  their  evil  plight  declare  : 
Hence,  tender  in  his  care,  the  shepherd  swain 
Seeks  each  contrivance.     Here  it  would  avail 
At  a  meet  distance  from  the  upland  ridge 
To  sink  a  trench,  and  on  the  hedge-long  bank 
Sow  frequent  sand,  with  lime,  and  dark  manure, 
Which  to  the  liquid  element  will  yield 
A  porous  way,  a  passage  to  the  foe. 
Plough  not  such  pastures  ;  deep  in  spongy  grass 
The  oldest  carpet  is  the  warmest  lair. 
And  soundest  :  in  new  herbage  coughs  are  heard. 


Nor  love  too  frequent  shelter  ;  such  as  decks 
The  vale  of.Severn,  Nature's  garden  wide. 
By  the  blue  steeps  of  distant  Malvern  '  walled. 
Solemnly  vast.     The  trees  of  various  shade. 
Scene  behind  scene,  with  fair  delusive  pomp 
Enrich  the  prospect,  but  they  rob  the  lawns. 
Nor  prickly  brambles,  white  with  woolly  theft. 
Should  tuft  thy  fields.     Applaud  not  the  remiss 
Dimetians,^  who  along  their  mossy  dales 
Consume,  like  grasshoppers,  the  summer  hour, 
■\Vhile  round  them  stubborn  thorns  and  furze  increase. 
And  creeping  briers. 


I  knew  a  careful  swain 
Who  gave  them  to  the  crackling  flames,  and  spread 
Their  dust  saline  upon  the  deepening  grass  ; 
And  oft  with  labor-strengthened  arm  he  delved 
The  draining  trench  across  his  verdant  slopes. 
To  intercept  the  small,  meandering  rills 
Of  upper  hamlets.     Haughty  trees,  that  sour 
The  shaded  grass,  that  weaken  thorn-set  mounds, 
And  harbor  villain  crows,  he  rare  allowed  j 
Only  a  slender  tuft  of  useful  ash. 
And  mingled  beech  and  elm,  securely  tall. 
The  little,  smiling  cottage  warm  embowered  ; 


The  little,  smiling  cottage  !  where  at  eve 
He  meets  his  .rosy  children  at  the  door. 
Prattling  their  welcomes,  and  his  honest  wife. 
With  good  brown  cake  and  bacon  slice,  intent 
To  cheer  his  hungfer  after  labor  hard. 

NORTHERS     SLOPES.  —  NORWAY. 


Nor  only  soil ;  there  also  must  he  found 
Felicity  of  clime  and  aspect  bland. 
Where  gentle  sheep  may  nourish  locks  of  price. 
In  vain  the  silken  fleece  on  windy  brows. 
And  northern  slopes  ..f  .l.iua-.lix  iain^'  hills. 
Is  sought,  though  suit  llnjiin  -imal-  iiin-  lap 
Beneath  their  rugged  Urt.  ;mi.|  unTiH  -  their  heights 

And  dark  Norwegian,  with  their  choicest  fields, 

Dingles  and  dells  by  lofty  fir  embowered, 

In  vain  the  bleaters  court.     Alike  they  shun 

Libya's  hot  plains.    What  taste  have  they  for  groves 

Of  palm,  or  yellow  dust  of  gold  !  no  more 

Food  to  the  flock  than  to  the  miser  wealth. 

Who  kneels  upon  the  glittering  heap  and  starves. 

Even  Gallic  Abbeville  the  shining  fleece. 

That  richly  decorates  her  loom,  acquires 

Basely  from  Albion,  by  the  ensnaring  bribe. 

The  bait  of  avarice,  which  with  felon  fraud, 

For  its  own  wanton  mouth,  from  thousands  steals. 


How  erring  oft  the  judgment  in  its  hate 
Or  fond  desire  !     Those  slow-descending  showers. 
Those  hovering  fogs,  that  bathe  our  growing  vales 
In  deep  November  (loathed  by  trifling  Gaul, 
Effeminate),  are  gifts  the  Pleiads  shed, 
Britannia's  handmaids  :  as  the  beverage  falls 
Her  hills  rejoice,  her  valleys  laugh  and  sing. 

Hail,  noble  Albion  !  where  no  golden  mines, 
No  soft  perfumes,  nor  oils,  nor  myrtle  bowers, 
The  vigorous  frame  and  lofty  heart  of  man 
Enervate  :  round  whose  stern,  cerulean  brows 
White-winged  snow,  and  cloud,  and  pearly  rain, 
Frequent  attend,  with  solemn  majesty  : 
Rich  queen  of  mists  and  vapors  !  these  thy  sons 
With  their  cool  arms  compress,  and  twist  their  nerves 
For  deeds  of  excellenco  and  high  renown.    [Blakes, 
Thus    formed    our    Edwards,    Henrys,    Churchills, 
Our  Lockes,  our  Newtons,  and  our  Miltons,  rose. 


ENGLISH 


SCENERY  i  HORSES,  CiTTLE,  SHEEP. 


See,  the  sun  gleams  ;  the  living  pastures  rise, 
After  the  nurture  of  the  fallen  shower, 
How  beautiful  !  how  blue  the  ethereal  vault ! 
How  verdurous  the  lawns  !  how  clear  the  brooks  ! 
Such  noble  warlike  steeds,  such  herds  of  kine, 
So  sleek,  so  vast,  such  spacious  flocks  of  sheep. 
Like  flakes  of  gold  illumining  the  green. 
What  other  paradise  adorn  but  thine, 
Britannia  !  happy,  if  thy  sons  would  know 
Their  happiness. 


WINTER —  FEBRUARY. 


491 


KSi;i.isn  siiirriNO ;  goods  ;  wkaltut  poim*  -,  Loauun. 
To  thoso  thy  naval  streams, 
Thy  frequent  towns  superb  of  busy  trade, 
And  ports  magnifio,  odd,  and  stately  ships 
Innumerous.     But  whither  strays  my  Moso  ? 
Pleaded,  liko  a  traveller  upon  the  strand 
Arrived  of  bright  Augusta,  wild  he  roves,    [masts  ; 
From   declc   to   decl<,  through  groves   iminenso  of 
'Mong  crowds,  bales,  oars,  the  wealth  of  either  Ind; 
Through   wharfs,   and    squares,   and   palaces,    and 
In  sweet  surprise  j  unable  yet  to  fix  [domes, 

His  raptured  mind,  or  scan  in  ordered  course 
Each  object  singly  :  with  discoveries  new 
His  native  country  studious  to  enrich. 

LOCiLlTIKS  PKCl'LUB  TO  VAIUOCS  BBEED3  OF  SBBBP  ;  TOE 
r.OAT-nOBSKD  OF  DKRUVSUIBR  ASD  WELSH  MOUNTll.SS, 
DESCHIBKD.  —  SIH'BIAN    SllKEP. 

Ye  shepherds  !  if  your  labors  hope  success. 
Be  first  your  purpose  to  procure  a  breed 
To  soil  and  clime  adapted.     Every  soil 
And  clime,  oven  every  tree  and  herb,  receives 
Its  habitant  peculiar  :  each  to  each 
The  great  Invisible,  and  each  to  all, 
Through  earth,  and  sea,  and  air,  harmonious  suits. 
Tempestuous  regions,  Darwent's  nalted  peaks,' 
Snowden  and  blue  Plynlimraon,  and  the  wide 
Aerial  sides  of  Cader-yddris  huge  ;  « 
These  are  bestowed  on  goat-horned  sheep,  of  fleece 
Hairy  and  coarse,  of  long  and  nimble  shank. 
Who  rove  o'er  bog  or  heath,  and  graze  or  browse 
Alternate,  to  collect  with  due  despatch. 
O'er  the  bleak  wild,  the  thinly-scattered  meal ; 
But  hills  of  milder  air,  that  gently  rise 
O'er  dewy  dales,  a  fairer  species  boast. 
Of  shorter  limb,  and  frontlet  more  ornate  : 
Such  the  Silurian. 


SI  LURE  AN  SB 

If  thy  farm  extends 
Near  Cotswold  Downs,  or  the  delicious  groves 
Of  Symmonds,  honored  through  the  sandy  soil 
Of  elmy  Ross,^  or  Devon's  myrtle  vales, 
That  drink  clear  rivers  near  the  glassy  seo, 
Regard  this  sort,  and  hence  thy  sire  of  lambs 
Select ;  his  tawny  fleece  in  ringlets  curls  : 
Long  swings  his  slender  tail ;  his  front  is  fenced 
With  horns  Ammonian,  circulating  twice 
Around  each  open  ear,  like  those  fair  scrolls 
That  grace  the  columns  of  the  lonio  dome. 


Yet  should  thy  fertile  glebe  bo  marly  clay, 
Like  Melton  pastures,  or  Tripontian  fields,  •• 
Where  ever-gliding  Avon's  limpid  wave 
Thwarts  tlic  long  course  of  dusty  Watling-strcct ; 
That  larger  sort,  of  head  defenceless,  seek, 
Wliose  fleece  is  deep  and  clammy,  close  nnd  plnin  : 

1  Darwent's  nakwl  peaks  i  the  peaks  of  Dcrbysliin-. 

■  Snowilen,  I'lynlimmon,  and  Cader-yddris  ;  liitjh  hills  in 
North  Waits. 

a  Uoss,  a  town  of  Ucrcfordshire. 

«  Tripontian  fields  ;  the  country  between  Rugby,  la  War- 
wickshire, and  Lutterworth,  ' 


The  ram,  short-limbed,  whose  form  compact  describes 
One  level  lino  along  his  spacious  back  ; 
Of  full  and  ruddy  eye,  large  ears,  stretched  head, 
Nostrils  dilated,  breast  and  shoulders  broad. 
And  spacious  haunches,  and  a  lofty  dock. 


Thus  to  their  kindred  soil  and  air  induced, 
Thy  thriving  herd  will  bless  thy  skilful  care, 
That  copies  nature,  who,  in  every  change, 
In  each  variety,  with  wisdom  works 
And  powers  diversified  of  air  and  soil, 
Her  rich  matoriols.     Hence  Sabaja's  rocks, 
Chaldiea's  nmrl,  Egyptus'  watered  loam. 
And  dry  Tyrcno's  ?nnd,  in  climes  alike, 
■\v;i-    ,ii  1'.  I,  1,1    t  ,:.      Ill  ilv  the  marts  of  trade  : 

-,,,,;!    ,  ,       ,    i:,       ,:,:,,     I  ,  :iiid  harsh  their  fleece; 

From  Suit  sou-l>rfi'«'s,  "pi'"  winters  mild. 
And  summers  bathed  in  dew  :  on  Syrian  sheep 
The  costly  burden  only  loads  their  tails  : 
Xo  locks  Cormandol's,  none  Malacca's  tribo 
Adorn  ;  but  sleek  of  flix,  and  brown  like  deer. 
Fearful  and  shcpherdlcss,  they  bound  along 
The  sands.     No  fleeces  wave  in  torrid  climes. 
Which  verdure  boast  of  trees  and  shrubs  alone. 
Shrubs  aromatic,  caufco  wild,  or  thea, 
Nutmeg,  or  cinnamon,  or  fiery  clove, 
Unapt  to  feed  the  fleece.     Tho  food  of  wool 
Is  grass  or  herbage  soft,  that  ever  blooms 
In  temperate  air,  in  the  delicious  downs 
Of  Albion,  on  the  banks  of  all  her  streams. 

GRASSES  i     KfFECTS  Of  TOO  SOCCOLEST  FOOD  ;  ROT  AND  ITS 
REMEDIES  ;  IMPORTANCE  OF  SALT  TO  stlKEP. 

Of  grasses  are  unnumbered  kinds,  and  all 
(Save  where  foul  waters  linger  on  tho  turf) 
Salubrious.     Early  mark  when  tepid  gleams 
Oft  mingle  with  the  pearls  <if  summer  showers, 
And  swell  too  hastily  the  tender  plains  ; 
Then  snatch  away  thy  sheep  :  beware  tho  rot, 
And  with  detersive  bay-salt  rub  their  mouths, 
Or  urge  them  on  a  barren  bank  to  feed, 
In  hunger's  kind  distress,  on  tedded  hay  ; 
Or  to  tho  marish  guide  their  easy  steps. 
If  near  thy  tufted  crofts  tho  broad  sea  spreads. 
Sagacious  care  foreacts.     When  strong  disease 
Breaks  in,  and  stains  the  purple  streams  of  health, 
Hard  is  tho  strife  of  art. 

SUEEP-COIOU  i  ITS  STMPTOMS  AXD  HEMF.DT. 

The  coughing  pest 
From  their  green  pasture  sweeps  whole  flocks  away. 
That  dire  distemper  sometimes  may  the  swain, 
Though  late,  di.scern  ;  when  on  the  lifted  lid, 
Or  visual  orb,  the  turgid  veins  are  pale. 
The  swelling  liver  then  her  putrid  store 
Begins  to  drink  :  ov'n  yet  thy  skill  exert, 
Nor  suffer  weak  despair  to  fold  thy  arms  : 
Again  detersive  solt  apply,  or  shed 
The  hoary  med'oino  o'er  their  arid  food. 


KURAL    POETRY. DYER. 


In  cold  stiff  soils  the  bleaters  oft  complain 
Of  gouty  ails,  by  shepherds  termed  the  halt : 
Those  let  the  neighboring  fold  or  ready  crook 
Detain,  and  pour  into  their  cloven  feet 
Corrosive  drugs,  deep-searching  arsenic, 
Dry  alum,  verdigris,  or  vitriol  keen  ; 
But  if  the  doubtful  mischief  scarce  appears, 
'T  will  serve  to  shift  them  to  a  dryer  turf, 
And  salt  again.     The  utility  of  salt 
Teach  thy  slow  swains     redundant  humors  cold 
Are  the  diseases  of  the  bleating  kind 


J,  fro: 


i-tremes 


DispLi  i\(_     t  N    iwt^iin  tar,  renowned 
By  Mituous  Beikcley,  whose  beneiolence 
Explored  its  poweis,  and  easy  mcd  cine  thence 
Sought  for  the  poor,     'ie  p  r  i  '  mth  grateful  voice 
Invoke  eternal  blessings  on  his  head. 


Sheep,  also,  pleurisies  and  dropsies  know, 
Driven  oft  from  Nature's  path  by  artful  man, 
Who  blindly  turns  aside,  with  haughty  hand, 
Whom  sacrea  instinct  would  securely  lead. 
But  thou,  more  humble  swain  !  thy  rural  gates 
Frequent  unbar,  and  let  thy  flocks  abroad 
From  lea  to  croft,  from  mead  to  arid  field, 
Noting  the  fickle  seasons  of  the  sky. 
Rain-sated  pastures  let  them  shun,  and  seek 
Changes  of  herbage  and  salubrious  flowers. 
By  their  all-perfect  Master  inly  taught, 
They  best  their  food  and  physic  can  discern  ; 
For  He,  Supreme  Existence  !  ever  near, 
Informs  them.     O'er  the  vivid  green  observe 
With  what  a  regular  consent  they  crop. 
At  every  fourth  collection  to  the  mouth, 
Unsavory  crow-flower  :  whether  to  awake 
Languor  of  appetite  willi  \\vv\v  rluinge. 
Or  timely  to  rei>en,|-|M„arlH„L;  .lis, 
Hard  to  determine.     Thnu,  \\[,uui  Xature  loves. 
And  with  her  salutary  rules  intrusts. 
Benevolent  Mackenzie  !  ^  say  the  cause. 
This  truth,  howe'er,  shines  bright  to  human  sense  ; 
Each  strong  affection  of  the  unconscious  brute. 
Each  bent,  each  passion  of  the  smallest  mite. 
Is  wisely  given  :  harmonious  they  perform 
The  work  of  perfect  reason  (blush,  vain  man  !) 
And  turn  the  wheels  of  Nature's  vast  machine. 


See  that  thy  scrip  have  store  of  healing  tar, 
And  marking  pitch  and'ruddle  ;  nor  forget 
Thy  shears  true  pointed,  nor  the  oflScious  dog. 
Faithful  to  teach  thy  stragglers  to  return  ; 
So  may'st  thou  aid  who  lag  along,  or  steal 
Aside  into  the  furrows  or  the  shades, 

^  Dr.  Mackenzie,  of  Druniseugh,  near  Edinburgh. 


Silent  to  droop  ;  or  who,  at  every  gate 

Or  hillock,  rub  their  sores  and  loosened  wool. 

But  rather  these,  the  feeble  of  thy  flock. 

Banish  before  the  autumnal  months.     Ev'n  age 

Forbear  too  much  to  favor  :  oft  renew. 

And  through  thy  fold  let  joyous  youth  appear. 

FIGHTS   OF  THE  MALE  SHEEP  J   THE  BATTEBJ.VG-EiM 

Beware  the  season  of  imperial  love, 
Who  through  the  world  his  ardent  spirit  pours  ; 
Ev'n  sheep  arc  then  intrepid  !  the  proud  ram 
With  jealous  eye  surveys  the  spacious  field  : 
All  rivals  keep  aloof,  or  desperate  war 
Suddenly  rages  ;  with  impetuous  force. 
And  fury  irresistible,  they  dash 
Their  hardy  frontlets  :  the  wide  vale  resounds  : 
The  flock,  amazed,  stands  safe  afar  :  and  oft 
Each  to  the  other's  might  a  victim  falls  ; 
As  fell  of  old,  before  that  engine's  sway. 
Which  hence  ambition  imitative  wrought, 
The  beauteous  towers  of  Salem  to  the  dust. 

TREATMENT  OF  MALE    LAMBKINS  ;     MAY-FEEDING  ;     TIME    OF 

Wise  custom  at  the  fifth  or  sixth  return. 
Or  ere  they  've  past  the  twelfth  of  orient  morn. 
Castrates  the  lambkins  :  necessary  rite. 
Ere  they  be  numbered  uf  the  piiierliil  lieid. 
But  kindly  watch  wIihju  ihy  -Ikm  p  hmel  has  grieved, 
In  those  rough  months  that  lilt  the  tm  ning  year  : 
Not  tedious  is  the  office  ;    tu  thy  iiij 
Favonius  hastens  ;  soon  their  wounds  he  heals, 
And  leads  them  skipping  to  the  flowers  of  May  ; 
May  !  who  allows  to  fold,  if  poor  the  tilth. 
Like  that  of  dreary  houseless  common  fields. 
Worn  by  the  plough  ;  but  fold  on  fallows'dry. 
Enfeeble  not  thy  fiock  to  feed  thy  land, 
Nor  in  too  narrow  bounds  the  prisoners  crowd  ! 
Nor  ope  the  wattled  fence  while  balmy  morn 
Lies  on  the  reeking  pasture  ;  wait  till  all 
The  crystal  dews,  impearled  upon  the  grass, 
Arc  touched  by  Pha-bus'  beams,  and  mount  aloft. 
With  various  clouds  to  paint  the  azure  sky. 

CARE  OF   SHEEP   IN   FLT-TIME. 

In  teasing  fly-time,  dank,  or  frosty  days. 
With  unctuous  liquids,  or  the  lees  of  oil. 
Rub  their  soft  skins  between  the  parted  locks  : 
Thus  the  Brigantes  ;  '  't  is  not  idle  pains  : 
Nor  is  that  skill  despised  which  trims  their  tails, 
Ere  summer-heats,  of  filth  and  tagged  wool. 
Coolness  and  cleanliness  to  health  conduce. 

WORK    FOR  LEISURE  HOURS. 

To  mend  thy  mounds,  to  trench,  to  clear,  to  soil 
Thy  grateful  fields,  to  medicate  thy  sheep. 
Hurdles  to  weave,  and  cheerly  shelters  raise, 
Thy  vacant  hours  require  ;  and  ever  learn 
Quick  ether's  motions  :  oft  the  scene  is  turned  ; 
Now  the  blue  vault,  and  now  the  murky  cloud, 
Hail,  rain,  or  radiance  :  these  the  moon  will  tell, 
Each  bird  and  beast,  and  these  thy  fleecy  tribe. 
1  The  Briganles,  inhabitants  of  Yorkshire. 


WINTER  —  FEBRUARY. 


493 


WKATHER  810X3  i  HOW  TO    SHIFT  TRB  8IIILTIR  Of  SdKP. 

When  high  tho  sapphire  oopo,  supino  thoy  couoh, 
And  chew  the  cud  delighted  ;  but,  ere  min, 
Eager,  and  at  unwonted  hour,  they  feed. 
Slight  nut  the  warning  ;  soon  tho  tempest  rolls. 
Scattering  them  wide,  close  rushing  at  the  heels 
Of  the  hurrying,  overtuken  swains  :  forbear 
Such  nights  to  fold  ;  such  nights  bo  theirs  to  shift 
On  ridge  or  hillock  ;  or  in  homesteads  soft, 
Or  softer  cots,  detain  them.     Is  thy  lot 
A  chill  penurious  turf,  to  all  thy  toils 
Untraotablc?     Before  harsh  Winter  drowns 
Tho  noisy  dykes,  and  starves  the  rushy  glebe, 
Shift  the  frail  breed  to  sandy  hamlets  warm  ; 
Thoro  let  them  sojourn,  till  gay  Progno  '  skims 
The  thickening  verdure  and  the  rising  flowers. 

WnE.y  SOBEP  ARK  TO   BK  BOCSED  ;     SSOW  ;     SHEEP  LOST    IN 


And  while  departing  Autumn  all  embrowns 
The  frequent-bitten  fields,  while  thy  free  hand 
Divides  the  tedded  hay,  then  be  their  feet 
Accustomed  to  the  barriers  of  tho  rick, 
Or  some  warm  umbrage  ;  lest,  in  erring  fright, 
When  the  broad  dazzling  snows  descend,  thoy  run 
Dispersed  to  ditches,  where  the  swelling  drift 
Wide  overwhelms  :  anxious,  the  sheplierd  swains 
Issue  with  axe  and  spado,  and,  all  abroad. 
In  doubtful  aim  explore  the  glaring  waste. 
And  some,  perchance,  in  the  deep  delve  upraise, 
Drooping,  even  at  the  twelfth  cold,  dreary  day, 
With  still  continued  feeble  pulse  of  life, — 
The  glebe  their  fleece,  their  flesh  by  hunger  gnawed. 

Ah,  gentle  shepherd  !  thine  the  lot  to  tend. 
Of  all  that  feel  distress,  tho  most  assailed. 
Feeble,  defenceless  ;  lenient  be  thy  care  ; 
But  spread  around  thy  tenderest  diligence 
In  flowery  spring-time,  when  the  now-dropped  lamb, 
Tottering  with  weakness  by  his  mother's  side. 
Feels  the  fresh  world  about  him,  and  each  thorn. 
Hillock,  or  furrow,  trips  his  feeble  feet : 
0  !  guard  his  meek,  sweet  innocence  from  all 
The  innumerous  ills  that  rush  around  his  life  ; 
Jlark  the  quick  kite,  with  beak  and  talons  prone, 
Circling  tlie  skies  to  snatch  him  from  the  plain  ; 
Observv  tho  lurking  crows  ;  beware  the  brake. 
There  the  sly  fox  tho  careless  minute  waits  ; 
Nor  trust  thy  neighbor's  dog,  nor  earth,  nor  sky  : 
Thy  bosom  to  a  thousand  cares  divide. 
Burns  oft  slings  his  hail  ;  tho  tardy  fields 
Pay  not  their  promised  food  ;  and  oft  tho  dam 
O'er  her  weak  twins  with  empty  udder  mourns. 
Or  fails  to  guard  when  the  bold  bird  of  prey 
Alights,  and  hops  in  many  turns  around, 
And  tires  her,  also  turning. 

TUB    COSSET  }     RADITUATB  CnlLDREN  TO  KIND  OFFICBS.  — 
P8R3BV8KIX0  CARE.  —  .NICBIS. 

To  her  aid 
Be  nimble,  and  the  weakest  in  thine  arms 


Gently  convoy  to  tho  warm  cot,  and  oft, 
Between  tho  lark's  note  and  tho  nightingale's, 
Ilis  hungry  bleating  still  with  tepid  milk  : 
In  this  soft  office  ma_y  thy  children  join, 
And  ehnriluble  habits  loam  in  sport  : 
Nor  yield  him  to  himself  ere  vernal  airs 
Sprinkle  thy  little  croft  with  daisy  flowers,: 
Nor  yet  forget  him  ;  life  has  rising  ilia  : 
Various  as  ether  is  the  pastoral  care  : 
Through  slow  experience,  by  a  patient  breast, 
The  whole  long  lesson  gradual  is  attained, 
By  precept  after  precept,  oft  received 
With  deep  attention  ;  such  as  Xuccus  sings 
To  tho  full  vale  near  Soar's'  enamored  brook, 
While  all  is  silence  :  sweet  Uinclean  swain  ! 
Whom  rudo  obscurity  severely  clasps  : 
Tho  Muse,  howo'or,  will  deck  thy  simple  cell 
With  purple  violets  and  primrose  flowers. 
Well-pleased  thy  faithful  lessons  to  repay. 

ALL  EXTREMES  ASD  EXCESS  HTBTrCL  TO  SDHEP.  —  CJ 


Sheep  no  extremes  can  bear  :  both  heat  and  cold 
Spread  sores  cutaneous  ;  but  more  frequent  heat. 
The  fly-blown  vermin  from  their  woolly  nest 
Press  to  the  tortured  skin,  and  flesh,  and  bone. 
In  littleness  iui.l  iiuinl'.r  .Ir.'^i.lful  foes  ! 
Long  rain-  !ti  :  hil- the  halt ; 

Rainy  luxm  \    ur  flock  ; 

And  all  c\..  us  food. 


Ass 


!  dc.l 


Olf. 


Inferior  theirs  to  man's  world-roving  frame, 
W'hich  all  extremes  in  every  zone  endures. 


I ;  laplaxder's  karb. 
With  grateful  heart,  ye  British  swains  !  enjoy 
Your  gLiitle  seasons  and  indulgent  clime. 
Lii  !  in  the  sprinkling  clouds  your  bleating  hills 
Rejoice  with  herbage,  while  the  horrid  rago 
Of  Winter  irresistible  o'erwhelras 
The  Ilyperborean  tracts  :  his  arrowy  frosts. 
That  pierce  through  flinty  rocks,  the  Lappian  flics. 
And  burrows  deep  beneath  tho  snowy  world  ; 
A  drear  abode  !  from  rose-diffusing  hours, 
That  dance  before  the  wheels  of  radiant  day. 
Far,  far  remote  ;  where,  by  tho  squalid  light 
Of  fetid  oil  inflamed,  sea-monsters'  spume. 
Or  fir-wood,  glaring  in  tho  weeping  vault^ 
Twice  three  slow,  gloomy  months  with  various  ills 
Sullen  he  struggles  ;  such  the  love  of  life  ! 
Ills  lank  and  scanty  herds  around  him  press. 
As,  hunger-stung,  to  gritty  meal  ho  grinds 
The  bones  of  fish,  or  inward  bark  of  trees, 
Their  ( 


While  ye,  0  s>Tain3  ! 
Ye,  happy  at  your  ease,  behold  your  sheep 
Feed  on  tho  open  turf,  or  crowd  the  tilth. 
Where,  thick  among  tho  greens,  with  busy  mouths 
They  scoop  white  turnips  :  little  care  is  yours  ; 

I  Soar,  a  rivi 


494 


EUEAL    POETRY. 


Only  at  morning  hour  to  interpose 
Dry  food  of  oats,  or  hay,  or  brittle  straw. 
The  watery  juices  of  the  bossy  root 
Absorbing  ;  or  from  noxious  air  to  screen 
Your  heavy,  teeming  ewes,  with  wattled  fence 
Of  furze  or  copse-wood,  in  the  lofty  field. 
Which  bleak  ascends  among  the  whistling  winds  : 
Or,  if  your  sheep  are  of  Silurian  breed. 
Nightly  to  house  them  dry  on  fern  or  straw, 
Silkening  their  fleeces. 

mLD   BEASTS,  EARTHQUAKES, 


Te  nor  rolling  hut 
Nor  watchful  dog  require,  where  never  roar 
Of  savage  tears  the  air,  where  careless  night 
In  balmy  sleep  lies  lulled,  and  only  wakes 
To  plenteous  peace.     Alas  !  o'er  warmer  zones 
Wild  terror  strides,  their  stubborn  rocks  are  rent. 
Their  mountains  sink,  their  yawning  caverns  flame. 
And  fiery  torrents  roll  impetuous  down. 
Proud  cities  deluging  ;   Pompeian  towers. 
And  Hcrculanean,  and  what  riotous  stood 
In  Syrian  valley,  where  now  the  Dead  Sea 
'Mong  solitary  hills,  infectious,  lies. 

FAMINE,   PLAGUE,  WAR, 


See  the  swift  Furies,  famine,  plague,  and  war, 
In  frequent  thunders  rage  o'er  neighboring  realms. 
And  spread  their  plains  with  desolation  wide  ! 
Yet  your  mild  homesteads  ever-blooming  smile 
Among  embracing  woods,  and  waft  on  high 
The  breath  of  plenty,  from  the  ruddy  tops 
Of  chimneys  curling  o'er  the  gloomy  trees 
In  airy,  azxure  ringlets  to  the  sky. 


Nor  ye  by  need  are  urged,  as  Attic  swains, 
And  Tarentine,  with  skins  to  clothe  your  sheep. 
Expensive  toil,  howe'er  expedient  found 
In  fervid  climates,  while  from  Phoebus'  beams 
They  fled  to  rugged  woods  and  tangling  brakes. 
But  those  expensive  toils  are  now  no  more. 
Proud  Tyranny  devours  their  flocks  and  herds  : 
Nor  bleat  of  sheep  may  now,  nor  sound  of  pipe. 
Soothe  the  sad  plains  of  once  sweet  Arcady, 
The  shepherds'  kingdom  :  dreary  solitude 
Spreads  o'er  Hymettus,  and  the  shaggy  vale 
Of  Athens,  which  in  solemn  silence  sheds 
Her  venerable  ruins  to  the  dust. 


The  weary  Arabs  roam  from  plain  to  plain. 
Guiding  the  languid  herd  in  quest  of  food. 
And  shift  their  little  home's  uncertain  scene 
With  frequent  farewell  ;  strangers,  pilgrims  all. 
As  were  their  fathers.     No  sweet  fall  of  rain 
May  there  be  heard  ;  nor  sweeter  liquid  lapse 
Of  river,  o'er  the  pebbles  gliding  by 
In  murmurs  :  goaded  by  the  rage  of  thirst. 


Daily  they  journey  to  the  distant  clefts 
Of  craggy  rocks,  where  gloomy  palms  o'erhang 
The  ancient  wells,  deep  sunk  by  toil  immense. 
Toil  of  the  patriarchs,  with  sublime  intent 
Themselves  and  long  posterity  to  serve. 


WATERING    THE 


WELLS  i     JACOB  . 


There,  at  the  public  hour  of  sultry  noon, 
They  share  the  beverage,  when  to  watering  come. 
And  grateful  umbrage,  all  the  tribes  around. 
And  their  lean  flocks,  whose  various  bleatings  fill 
The  echoing  caverns  :  then  is  absent  none, 
Fair  nymph  or  shepherd,  each  inspiring  each 
To  wit,  and  song,  and  dance,  and  active  feats  ; 
In  the  same  rustic  scene,  where  Jacob  won 
Fair  Rachel's  bosom,  when  a  rock's  vast  weight 
From  the   deep,  dark-mouthed  -well  his   strength 

removed. 
And  to  her  circling  sheep  refreshment  gave. 

Such  are  the  perils,  such  the  toils  of  life, 
In  foreign  climes.     But  speed  thy  flight,  my  Muse! 
Swift  turns  the  year,  and  our  unnumbered  flocks 
On  fleeces  overgrown  uneasy  lie. 


Now,  jolly  swains  !  the  harvest  of  your  cares 
Prepare  to  reap,  and  seek  the  sounding  caves 
Of  high  Brigantium,'  where,  by  ruddy  flames, 
Vulcan's  strong  sons,  with  nervous  arm,  around 
The  steady  anvil  and  the  glaring  mass 
Clatter  their  heavy  hammers  down  by  turns. 
Flattening    the    steel  :    from   their    rough    hands 

receive 
The  sharpened  instrument  that  from  the  flock 
Severs  the  fleece.     If  verdant  elder  spreads 
Her  silver  flowers  ;  if  humble  daisies  yield 
To  yellow  crow-foot,  and  luxuriant  grass. 
Gay  shearing-time  approaches. 


First,  howe'er, 
ve  to  the  double  fold,  upon  the  brim 
I  Of  a  clear  river,  gently  drive  the  flock. 
And  plunge  them  one  by  one  into  the  flood  : 
Plunged  in  the  flood,  not  long  the  struggler  sinks. 
With  his  white  flakes  that  glisten  through  the  tide; 
The  sturdy  rustic,  in  the  middle  wave. 
Awaits  to  seize  him  rising  ;   one  arm  bears 
His  lifted  head  above  the  limpid  stream, 
While  the  full,  clammy  fleece  the  other  laves 
Around,  laborious,  with  repeated  toil  ; 
And  then  resigns  him  to  the  sunny  bank. 
Where,  bleating  loud,  he  shakes  his  dripping  locks. 

HOW  TO  SHEAR. —WOOSDS,  TAR,  SHOWERS;   FRESHETS  IS 

Shear  them  the  fourth  or  fifth  return  of  morn. 
Lest  touch  of  busy  fly-blows  wound  their  skin. 

1  Caves  of  Brigantium  •,  the  forges  of  Sheffield,  in  York- 
shire, where  the  shepherds'  shears,  and  all  edge-tools,  are 


WINTER  —  FEBRUAKT. 


Thy  poacoful  subjects  without  murmur  yield 
Thoir  yearly  tribute  :  't  is  Uio  prudent  part 
To  cherish  and  bo  gentle,  while  ye  strip 
The  downy  vesture  from  thoir  tender  sides. 
Press  not  too  close  ;  with  caution  turn  the  points, 
And  from  the  head  in  regular  rounds  proceed  ; 
But  speedy,  when  yo  chance  to  wound,  with'  tar 
Prevent  the  wingy  swarm  and  scorching  heat ; 
And  careful  house  them,  if  the  lowering  clouds 
Jlingle    their    stores    tumultuous  :     through    the 

gloom 
Then  thunder  ofl  with  ponderous  wheels  rolls  loud, 
And  breaks  the  crystal  urns  of  heaven,  adown 
Falls  streaming  rain.     Sometimes  among  the  steeps 
Of  Cambrian  glades  (pity  the  Cambrian  glades  !) 
Fast  tumbling  brooks  on  brooks  enormous  swell, 
And  sudden  overwhelm  their  vanished  fields  : 
Down  with  the  flood  away  the  naked  sheep. 
Bleating  in  vain,  are  borne,  and  straw-built  huts. 
And  rifted  trees,  and  heavy,  enormous  rocks, 
Down  with  the  rapid  torrent  to  the  deep. 


FESTIVmEl  iT 


vales 


At  shearing-tiiii.  .il   lu  i 

Rural  festivities  .n        i    ' i  : 

Beneath  each  l>l"i  -  i  i    .i"y 

And  lusty  merrimLi.;.     \*  LU-.     i.  Uio  grass 
The  mingled  youth  iu  gaudy  circles  sport, 
We  thinji  the  Golden  Age  again  returned. 
And  all  the  fabled  dryades  in  dance  : 
Leering  they  bound  along,  with  laughing  air. 
To  the  shrill  pipe,  and  deep-remurmuring  chords 
Of  the  ancient  harp,  or  tabor's  hollow  sound. 


PASTOIUL  SCENES  j 

PilUSON. 

While  the  old  apart,  upon  a  bank  reclined. 
Attend  the  tuneful  carol,  softly  mixed 
With  every  murmur  of  the  sliding  wave, 
And  every  warble  of  the  feathered  choir, 
iMusic  of  Paradise  ;  which  still  is  heard 
When  the  heart  listens,  still  the  views  appear 
Of  the  first  happy  garden,  when  content 
To  Nature's  flowery  scenes  directs  the  sight. 
Yet  we  abandon  those  Elysian  walks, 
Then  idly  for  the  lost  delight  repine  ; 
As  greedy  mariners,  whoso  desperate  sails 
Skim  o'er  the  billows  of  the  foamy  flood, 
Fancy  they  see  the  lessening  shores  retire. 
And  sigh  a  farewell  to  the  sinking  hills. 

A   PiSTOnil,  ECLOGUE.  —  DAMON  ASD  COLIS. 

Could  I  recall  those  notes  which  once  tho  Muso 
Heard  at  a  shearing,  near  the  woody  sides 
Of  blue-topped  Wreakin  ! '    Yet  the  carols  sweet 
Through  the  deep  maze  of  the  memorial  cell 
Faintly  remunnur.     First  arose  in  song 
Hoar-headed  Damon,  venerable  swain  ! 
The  aoolhest  shepherd  of  the  flowery  vale. 

1  Wreakin,  a  high  1 


'This  is  no  vulgar  soono  ;  no  palace-roof 
Was  o'er  so  lofty,  or  so  nobly  rise 
Their  polished  pillars  as  these  aged  oaks. 
Which,  o'er  our  fleecy  wealth  and  harmless  sport--". 
Thus  have  expanded  wide  thoir  sheltering  arms 
Thrice  told  an  hundred  summers.     Sweet  content, 
Yo  gentle  shepherds  !  pillow  us  at  night' 


'  Yes,  tuneful  Damon,  for  our  cares  are  short. 
Rising  and  falling  with  the  cheerful  day,' 
Colin  replied  ;  '  and  pleasing  weariness 
Soon  our  unaching  heads  to  sleep  inelincg. 
Is  it  in  cities  so  ?  where,  poets  tell, 
Tho  cries  of  sorrow  sadden  all  tho  streets. 
And  the  diseases  of  intemperate  wealth. 
Alas  !  that  any  ills  from  wealth  should  rise  !' 

DAMON. —  RCRAL  PEACE. 

■  May  the  sweet  nightingale  on  yonder  spray, 
May  this  clear  stream,  these  lawns,   those  snow- 
white  lambs, 
A\Tiioh  with  a  pretty  innocence  of  look 
Skip  on  the  green,  and  race  in  little  troops  ; 
May  that  great  lamp  which  sinks  behind  the  hills. 
And  streams  around  variety  of  lights. 
Recall  them  erring  !  this  is  Damon's  wish.' 

COLIN.  —  COCSTRY  ASD  CrTT  LIFE   CONTRASTED  ;    IBE  VIEW 

'  Huge  Breaden's  *  stony  summit  once  I  climbed 
After  a  kidling  :  Damon,  what  a  scene  ! 
What  various  views  unnumbered  spread  beneath  ! 
Woods,  towers,  vales,  caves,  dells,  clifis,  and  torrent 

floods  ; 
And  here  iiii'I  t'l' n  .  liiMm  tlie  spiry  rocks, 
Tho  broad  II  ii       i       I  I   i  prospects  these. 

Than  gard  n      :  .  if  in  dusty  towns. 

Where  stoii.li\  i.iih,,  -    .tr.  :,  M,,t  the  sun  : 
Y'el,  flying  from  his  4uii;t,  thither  crowds 
Each  greedy  wretch  for  tivrdy-rising  wealth. 
Which   comes   too   late,   that  courts   the  tasto   in 

Or  nauseates  with  distempers.     Y'es,  yo  rich  ! 
Still,  still  be  rich,  if  thus  ye  fashion  life  ; 
And  piping,  careless,  silly  shepherds  wo, 
AVc  silly  shepherds,  all  intent  to  feed 
Our  snowy  flocks,  and  wind  the  sleeky  fleece.' 

DAMON.  —  HONORS  OP  TDE 

•  Deem  not,  howe'er,  our  occupatii 
Damon  replied,  'while  tho  Supreme 
Well  of  tho  faithful  shepherd,  ranked  alike 
With  king  and  priest ;  they  also  shepherds 
For  so  the  All-seeing  styles  them,  to 
Elated  man,  forgetful  of  his  charge.' 


ind 


1  the  borders  of  MontgomerTshire. 


RURAL    POETRY. DYER. 


OOUN.  —  THE  FLOWER-FESTIVAL  OF  TALES  AT  SHEARISG- 
TIME.  —  SABRINA,  OR  THE  SEVERN  PERSONIFIED  J  THE  FIVE 
STREAMS   OF   PLYNLYMMON. 

'  But  haste,  begin  the  rites  :  see  purple  eve 
Stretches  her  shadows  :  all  yo  nymphs  and  swains  ! 
Hither  assemble.     Pleased  with  honors  due, 
Sabrina,  guardian  of  the  crystal  flood. 
Shall  bless  our  cares,  when  she  by  moonlight  clear 
Skims  o'er  the  dales,  and  eyes  our  sleeping  folds  ! 
Or  in  hoar  caves,  around  Plynlymraon's  brow, 
Where  precious  minerals  dart  their  purple  gleams. 
Among  her  sisters  she  reclines  ;   the  loved 
Vaga,  profuse  of  graces,  Ryddol  rough, 
Blithe  Ystwith,  and  Clevedoo,'  swift  of  foot ; 
And  mingles  various  seeds  of  flowers  and  herbs. 
In  the  divided  torrents,  ere  they  burst  [roll. 

Through  the  dark  clouds,  and  down  the  mountain 
Nor  taint-worm  shall  infect  the  yeaning  herds. 
Nor  penny-grass,  nor  spearwort's  poisonous  leaf.' 

He  said  :  with  light  fantastic  toe  the  nymphs 
Thither  assembled,  thither  every  swain  ; 
And  o'er  the  dimpled  stream  a  thousand  flowers, 
Pale  lilies,  roses,  violets,  and  pinks, 
Mixed  with  the  greens  of  burnet,  mint,  and  thyme. 
And  trefoil,  sprinkled  with  their  sportive  arms. 

Such  custom  holds  along  the  irriguous  vales 
From  Wreakin's  brow  to  rocky  Dolvoryn,^ 
Sabrina's  early  haunt,  ere  yet  she  fled 
The  search  of  Guendolen,^  her  stepdame  proud, 
With  envious  hate  enraged. 

FEAST  OF  SHEEP-SHEARING  \  Vm  AND  JOLLITY  5  THE  REPAST 
DESCRIBED.  —  THE     SEVERS  AND   ITS  TBiDlSG   CRAFT. 

The  jolly  cheer. 
Spread  on  a  mossy  bank,  untouched  abides, 
Till  cease  the  rites  :  and  now  the  mossy  bank 
Is  gayly  circled,  and  the  jolly  cheer 
Dispersed  in  copious  measure  :  early  fruits, 
And  those  of  frugal  store,  in  husk  or  rind  ; 
Steeped  grain,  and  curdled  milk  with  dulcet  cream 
Soft  tempered,  in  full  merriment  they  quaff. 
And  cast  about  their  gibes  :  and  some  apace 
Whistle  to  roundelays  :  their  little  ones 
Look  on  delighted  ;  while  the  mountain  woods 
And  winding  valleys  with  the  various  notes 
Of  pipe,  sheep,  kiue,  and  birds,  and  liquid  brooks, 
Unite  their  echoes  :  near  at  hand  the  wide 
Majestic  wave  of  Severn  slowly  rolls 
Along  the  deep-divided  glebe  :  the  flood 
And  trading  bark,  with  low-contracted  sail, 
Lipger  among  the  reeds  and  copsy  banks 
To  listen,  and  to  view  the  joyous  scene. 
I  Va-:!-  i:\.i.i  I,  \  "Mil     Li,.i  M'  >    i-r  rivers',  the  springs 

ofwln^l,  •  ''     ■  „,. 

-llul\  I     ^1     i-nmeryshire,  onthe 

BTIir  h  '       ;,■        '     I   h  I        ,,•    fsnil  of  Brute,  and 


e: 


and  directions 


Now  of  the  severed  lock  begin  the  song 
With  various  numbers,  through  the  simple  theme 


This  is  a  lull. .r. 

\rt.  (1  Wniy  !■   if  thou 

Cease  not  with  - 

,iliul  lian.l  to  point  her  way. 

The  lark-winye. 

MuiL-  abuvu  the  grassy  vale, 

And  hills,  and  w 

oods,  shall,  singing,  soar  aloft 

And  he  whom  le 

arning,  wisdom,  candor,  grace, 

Who  glows  with  all  the  virtue 
Royston  !  ^  approve,  and  patn 


Through  all  the  brute  creation  none  as  sheep 
To  lordly  man  such  ample  tribute  pay. 
For  him  their  udders  yield  nectareous  streams  ; 
For  him  their  downy  vestures  they  resign  ; 
For  him  they  spread  the  feast :  ah  !  ne'er  may  he 
Glory  in  wants  which  doom  to  pain  and  death 
His  blameless  fellow-creatures.     Let  disease, 
Let  wasted  hunger,  by  destroying  live. 
And  the  permission  use  with  trembling  thanks. 
Meekly  reluctant :  't  is  the  brute  beyond  ; 
And  gluttons  ever  murder  when  they  kill. 
Even  to  the  reptile  every  cruel  deed 
Is  high  impiety.     Howe'er  not  all. 
Not  of  the  sanguinary  tribe  are  all ; 
All  are  not  savage.     Come,  ye  gentle  swains  ! 
Like  Brama's  healthy  sons  on  Indus'  banks. 
Whom  the  pure  stream  and  garden  fruits  sustain  ; 
Ye  are  the  sons  of  Nature  ;  your  mild  hands 
Are  innocent :  ye,  when  ye  shear,  relieve. 

THE  FLEECE  ;    PICKING  AND  SORTING  IT. 

Come,  gentle  swains!  the  bright  unsullied  locks 
Collect ;  alternate  songs  shall  soothe  your  cares. 
And  warbling  music  break  from  every  spray. 

1  David  Wray,  Esq.,  one  of  the  Deputy  Tellers  of  the  Ex- 
chequer, who  procured  Dyer  the  living  of  Belchfond,  in  1751. 
5i  Viscount  Iloystun,  afterward  Earl  of  Hardwicke. 


497 


Bo  faithful,  and  tho  genuine  looks  alono  i 

Wrap  round  ;  nor  alien  flake,  nor  pitch  enfold  ; 
Stain  not  your  stores  with  base  desire  to  luld 
Fallacious  weight ;  nor  yet,  to  mimic  those, 
Minute  and  light,  of  sandy  Urohinficld,' 
Lessen,  with  subtle  artifice,  the  fleece  ; 
Equal  tho  fraud  ;  nor  interpose  delay. 
Lest  busy  ether  through  tho  open  wool 
Debilitating  pass,  and  every  film 
Ruffle  and  sully  with  tho  valley's  dust. 

Tim  Morn  ;  flock  beds. 
Guard,  too,  from  moisture,  and  the  fretting  moth 
Pernicious  :  she,  in  gloomy  shade  concealed. 
Her  labyrinth  cuts,  and  mocks  the  comber's  care  : 
But  in  loose  looks  of  fells  sho  most  delights, 
And  feeble  fleeces  of  distempered  sheep. 
Whither  she  hastens,  by  the  morbid  scent 
Allured,  as  tho  swift  eagle  to  the  fields 
Of  slaughtering  war  or  carnage  :  such  apart 
Keep  for  their  proper  use  :  our  ancestors 
Selected  such  for  hospitable  beds 
To  rest  the  stranger,  or  tho  gory  chief 
From  battle  or  tho  chase  of  wolves  returned. 


They  sovor  look  from  look,  and  long,  and  short, 
And  soft,  and  rigid,  pilo  in  sovoral  heaps. 


WOOLS  POK  VilUOfS  riBKICS  i 


U»Ta,  CLOTHS, 


When  many-colored  evening  sinks  behind 
Tho  purple  woods  and  hills,  and  opposite 
Rises,  full  orbed,  the  silver  harvest  jnoon, 
To  light  the  unwearied  farmer,  late  afield 
His  scattered  sheaves  collecting,  then  expect 
The  artists,  bent  on  speed,  from  populous  Leeds, 
Norwich,  or  Froomo  ;   they  traverse  every  plain 
And  every  dale  nhi  I .   imni  .  r  ..u^ige  smokes  : 
Reject  them  not  ;   jui  i   ;  lii      i  i-iu's  price 
Win  thy  soft  trc';i,-iin        1.  i  i:,'    Imlky  wain 
Through  dusty  ru;ids  u.ll  ii.i.l.imy  ;   or  the  bark, 
That  silently  adown  the  ccrulc  stream 
Glides  with  white  sails,  dispense  the  downy  freight 
To  copsy  villages  on  either  si<le, 
And  spiry  towns,  where  ready  diligence, 
The  grateful  burden  to  receive,  awaits. 
Like  strong  Briareus,  with  his  hundred  bands. 


This  tho  dusk  hattor  asks  ;  another  shines, 
Tempting  tho  clothier  ;  that  tho  hosier  seeks  ; 
Tho  long  bright  look  is  ai)t  for  airy  stuffs  ; 
But  often  it  deceives  the  artist's  oaro, 
Breaking  unuscful  in  the  steely  comb  : 
For  this  long  spongy  wool  no  more  increase 
Receives,  while  winter  petrifies  the  fields  : 
The  growth  of  Autumn  stops  ;   and  what  though 
Succeeds  with  rosy  finger,  and  spins  on         [Spring 
The  texture  ?  yet  in  vain  she  strives  to  link 
Tho  silver  twine  to  that  of  Autumn's  hand. 

now  TO  KEKP    THB  WOOL    (5H0WIS0    THROCGO  WISTKK  ;  IM- 

PORTASCB  or  rr. 
Be  then  the  swain  advised  to  shield  his  flocks 
From  winter's  deadening  frosts  and  whelming  snows: 
Let  the  loud  tompest  rattle  on  tho  roof, 
AVliilo  they,  secure  within,  warm  iribs  enjoy. 
And  swell  their  fleeces,  equal  to  the  worth 
Of  clothed  Apulian,'  by  soft  warmth  improved  ; 
Or  let  them  inward  heat  and  vigor  find 
By  food  of  cole  or  turnip,  hardy  plants. 
Besides,  the  lock  of  one  continued  growth 
Imbibes  a  clearer  and  more  equal  dye. 


But  lightest  wool  is  thei 
Through  tt  dull  round,  in  i 
Of  common-fiiM.-.     Enclos 

Why  Will.vnuj.-,    ;n-:in, 
Noxious  tu  w  .   : 

To  mark  y ]''•'•'> 


;  who  poorly  toil 
improving  farms 

enclose,  ye  swains 
M  firUl,  where  pitch 

,    iir  motley  flock, 
itiiirk  dilates, 
,  .i,  liled, 


BELnuSS  ;  EMPLOVM 


or  THE  POOR  , 


In  tho  same  fleece  diversity  of  wool 
Grows  intermingled,  and  excites  tho  earo  • 
Of  curious  skill  to  sort  the  several  kinds. 
But  in  this  subtle  science  none  exceed 
The  industrious  Belgians,  to  the  work  who  guide 
Each  feeble  hand  of  want :  their  spacious  domes, 
With  boundless  hospitality,  receive 
Each  nation's  outcasts  :  there  the  tender  eye 
May  view  tho  maimed,  the  blind,  the  lame,  em- 
ployed, 
And  unrejected  ago  :  even  childhood  there 
Its  little  fingers  turning  to  the  toil 
Delighted  :  nimbly,  with  habitual  speed, 

1  Urcbinfield  -,  the  country  about  Ross,  in  Ilcrerordshire. 


Tniit  liir  In  lun  nil.  iii.t.     Besides,  in  fields 

I'l 1-  n   u-  li.  11.  ill!  culture  languishes  : 

Tlie  -Mir,  r\li;ni^t.i|,  thlu  supply  rcceivos  J 
Dull  Kilters  rest  upon  tho  rushy  flats 
And  barren  furrows  :  none  the  rising  grove 
There  plants  for  late  posterity,  nor  hedge 
To  shield  the  flock,  nor  copse  for  cheering  fire  ; 
And  in  the  distant  village  every  hearth 
Devours  the  grassy  sward,  the  verdant  food 
Of  injured  herds  and  flocks,  or  what  tlie  plough 
Should  turn  and  moulder  for  the  bearded  grain  : 
Pernicious  habit !  drawing  gradual  on 
Increasing  beggary,  and  Nature's  frowns. 
Add,  too,  the  idle  pilferer  easier  there 
Eludes  detection,  when  a  lamb  or  owe 
From  intermingled  flocks  he  steals,  or  when. 
With  loosened  tether  of  his  horse  or  cow. 
The  milky  stalk  of  tho  tall  green-cared  corn. 
The  year's  slow-ripening  fruit,  the  anxious  hope 
Of  his  laborious  neighbor,  he  destroys. 


RURAL    POETRY. 


NOM-BRITISH  WOOLS  -,  THE  GOBELINS. 

There  are  who  overrate  our  spongy  stores, 
Who  deem  that  nature  grants  no  clime  lout  ours 
To  spread  upon  its  fields  the  dews  of  heaven, 
And  feed  the  silky  fleece  ;  that  card  nor  comb 
The  hairy  wool  of  Gaul  can  e'er  subdue, 
To  form  the  thread,  and  mingle  in  the  loom. 
Unless  a  third  from  Britain  swell  the  heap  : 
Illusion  all  ;  though  of  our  sun  and  air 
Not  trivial  is  the  virtue,  nor  their  fruit 
Upon  our  snowy  flocks  of  small  esteem  : 
The  grain  of  brightest  tincture  none  so  well 
Imbibes  :  the  wealthy  Gobelins  must  to  this 
Bear  witness,  and  the  costliest  of  their  looms. 

PASTCRES  AFFECT  THE  COLOR   OF   WOOL. 

And  though  with  hue  of  crocus  or  of  rose 
No  power  of  subtle  food,  or  air,  or  soil. 
Can  dye  the  living  fleece  ;  yet  'twill  avail 
To  note  their  influence  in  the  tinging  vase  : 
Therefore  from  herbage  of  old  pastured  plains. 
Chief  from  the  matted  turf  of  azure  marl 
Where  grow  the  whitest  locks,  collect  thy  stores. 
Those  fields  regard  not  through  whose  recent  turf 
The  miry  soil  appears  ;  nor  ev'n  the  streams 
Of  Yare  or  silver  Stroud  can  purify 
Their  frequent  sullied  fleece;  nor  what  rough  winds. 
Keen  biting,  on  tempestuous  hills,  imbrown. 


Yet  much  may  be  performed  to  check  the  force 
Of  Nature's  rigor  :  the  high  heath,  by  trees 
ViMvi  sheltered,  may  despise  the  rage  of  storms  : 
Moors,  bogs,  and  weeping  fens,  may  learn  to  smih 
And  leave  in  dikes  their  soon-forgotten  tears. 
Labor  and  Art  will  every  aim  achieve 
Of  noble  bosoms.     Bedford  Level,^  erst 
A  dreary  pathless  waste,  the  coughing  flock 
Was  wont  with  hairy  fleeces  to  deform. 
And,  smiling  with  her  lure  of  summer  flowers, 
The  heavy  ox  vain  struggling  to  ingulf  ; 
Till  one  of  that  high  honored,  patriot  name, 
Russell  !  arose,  who  drained  the  rushy  fen. 
Confined  the  waves,  bade  groves  and  gardens  bloon 
And  through  his  new  creation  led  the  Ouze 
And  gentle  Camus,  silver-winding  streams  ; 
God-like  beneficence  !  from  chaos  drear 
To  raise  the  garden  and  the  shady  grove. 


BOURN  ;  EFFECTS  OF  CDLTORB  ;  ART,  TOIL,  AND  NATURE. 

But  see  lerne's  ^  moors  and  hideous  bogs. 
Immeasurable  tract  !  the  traveller 
Slow  tries  his  mazy  step  on  the  yielding  turf, 
Shuddering  with  fear  :  ev'n  such  perfidious  wilds. 
By  labor  won,  have  yielded  to  the  comb 
The  fairest  length  of  wool.     See  Deeping-Fens 
And  the  long  lawns  of  Bourn.     'T  is  art  and  toil 
Gives  Natui'O  value,  multiplies  her  stores. 
Varies,  improves,  creates  :  't  is  art  and  toil 
Teaches  her  woody  hills  with  fruits  to  shine. 


Bedford  Level,  in  Cambridgeshh-f 


The  pear  and  tasteful  apple  ;  decks  with  flowers 
And  foodful  pulse  the  fields  that  often  rise. 
Admiring  to  behold  their  furrows  wave 
With  yellow  corn.     What  changes  cannot  toil. 
With  patient  art,  effect  ? 

STATE  OF  ANCIENT   BRITAIN  j    WILLOW  WARE  }   SARCM  ",   COTS- 

There  was  a  time 
When  other  regions  were  the  swain's  delight. 
And  shepherdless  Britannia's  rushy  vales, 
Inglorious,  neither  trade  nor  labor  knew. 
But  of  rude  baskets,  homely  rustic  gear. 
Woven  of  the  flexile  willow  ;  till,  at  length. 
The  plains  of  Sarum  opened  to  the  hand 
Of  patient  culture,  and  o'er  sinking  woods 
High  Cotswold  showed  her  summits.     Urchinfield, 
And  Lemster's  crofts,  beneath  the  pheasant's  brake 
Long  lay  unnoted.     Toil  new  pasture  gives. 
And  in  the  regions  oft  of  active  Gaul 
O'er  lessening  vineyards  spreads  the  growing  turf. 

SYRIAN    WOOL.  —  PALESTINE  ;     TTRIAN     DYES  )     COLCHIS  ; 

In  eldest  times,  when  kings  and  hardy  chiefs 
In  bleating  sheepfolds  met,  for  purest  wool 
Phoenicia's  hilly  tracts  were  most  renowned. 
And  fertile  Syria's  and  Judjea's  land, 
Hermon  and  Seir,  and  Hebron's  brooky  sides. 
Twice  with  the  murex,  crimson  hue,  they  tinged 
The  shining  fleeces  ;  hence  their  gorgeous  wealth  ; 
And  hence  arose  the  walls  of  ancient  Tyre. 

Next  busy  Colchis,  blessed  with  frequent  rains 
And  lively  verdure  (who  the  lucid  stream 
Of  Phasis  boasted,  and  a  portly  race 
Of  fair  inhabitants),  improved  the  fleece. 
When,  o'er  the  deep  by  flying  Phryxus  brought. 
The  famed  Thessalian  ram  enriched  her  plains. 


This  rising  Greece  with  indignation  viewed. 
And  youthful  Jason  an  attempt  conceived 
Lofty  and  bold  :  along  Peneus'  banks. 
Around  Olympus'  brows,  the  Muses'  haunts. 
He  roused  the  brave  to  re-demand  the  fleece. 
Attend,  ye  British  swains  !  the  ancient  song. 
From  every  region  of  ^Egea's  shore 
The  brave  assembled  ;  those  illustrious  twins, 
Castor  and  Pollux  ;  Orpheus,  tuneful  bard  ; 
Zetes  and  Calais,  as  the  wind  in  speed  ; 
Strong  Hercules,  and  many  a  chief  renowned. 

On  deep  lolcos'  sandy  shore  they  thronged, 
Gleaming  in  armor,  ardent  of  exploits  ; 
And  soon  the  laurel  cord  and  the  huge  stone 
Uplifting  to  the  deck,  unmoored  the  bark. 
Whose  keel,  of  wondrous  length,  the  skilful  hand 
Of  Argus  fashioned  for  the  proud  attempt  ; 
And  in  the  extended  keel  a  lofty  mast 
Upraised,  and  sails  full  swelling  ;  to  the  chiefs 
Unwonted  objects  :  now  first,  now  they  learned 
Their  bolder  steerage  over  ocean  wave. 
Led  by  the  golden  stars,  as  Chiron's  art 
Had  marked  the  sphere  celestial.     Wide  abroad 


WINTER  —  FEBKTJART. 


499 


Expands  tho  purple  deep  ;  the  cloudy  isles,  1 

Scyros,  and  Scopoloa,  and  Icos,  rise,  | 

And  Hftlonesos  :  soon  huge  Lcninos  heaves 
Her  azure  head  above  the  level  brine, 
Shakes  off  her  mists,  and  brightens  all  her  cliffs  ; 
While  they,  her  flattering  creeks  and  opening  bowers 
Cautious  approaching,  in  Myrina's  port 
Cast  out  the  cabled  stone  upon  the  strand. 
Next  to  tho  Mysian  shore  they  shape  their  course, 
But  with  too  eager  haste  :  in  the  white  foam 
Uis  oar  Alcides  breaks  ;  howe'er,  not  long 
The  chance  detains';  he  springs  upon  the  shore. 
And  rifting  from  the  roots  a  tapering  pine, 
Renews  his  stroke.     Between  the  tlireatening  towers 
Of  Hellespont  they  ply  tho  rugged  surge. 
To  Hero's  and  Lcandcr's  ardent  love 
Fatal  ;  then  smooth  Propontis*  widening  wave. 
That  like  a  glassy  lake  expands,  with  hills, 
Hills  above  hills,  and  gloomy  woods  begirt : 
And  now  the  Thracian  Bosphorus  they  dare. 
Till  the  Symplcgiules,  tremendous  rocks  ! 
Threaten  approach  ;  but  they,  unterrified,      [floods 
Through  the  sharp-pointed  cliffs    and   thundering 
Cleave  their  bold  passage  ;  nathless  by  the  crags 
And  torrents  sorely  shattered  :  as  the  strong 
Eagle  or  vulture,  in  the  entangling  net       [behind. 
Involved,  breaks  through,  yet  leaves   his  plumes 
Thus  through  the  wide  waves  their  slow  way  they 
To  Tbynia's  hospitable  isle.     The  brave  [force 

Pass  many  perils,  and  to  fame  by  such 
Experience  rise.     Refreshed,  again  they  speed 
From  capo  to  cape,  and  view  unnumbered  streams, 
Ilalays,  with  hoary  Lycus,  and  the  mouths 
Of  Asparus  and  Glaucus,  rolling  swift 
To  tho  broad  deep  their  tributary  waves  ; 
Till  in  the  long-sought  harbor  they  arrive 
Of  golden  Phasis.     Foremost  on  the  strand 
Jason  advanced  :  tho  deep,  capacious  bay. 
The  crumbling  terrace  of  the  marble  port. 
Wondering  he  viewed,  and  stately  palace-domes, 
Pavilions  proud  of  luxury  :  around. 
In  every  glittering  hall,  within,  without. 
O'er  all  the  timbrel-sounding  squares  and  streets. 
Nothing  appeared  but  luxury,  and  crowds 
Sunk  deep  in  riot.     To  the  public  weal 
Attentive  none  he  found  ;  for  he,  their  chief 
Of  shepherds,  proud  Aetos,  by  the  name. 
Sometimes,  of  king  distinguished,  'gan  to  slight 
The  shepherd's  trade,  and  turn  to  song  and  dance  : 
Ev'n  Hydrus  ceased  to  watch  ;  Medea's  songs 
Of  joy,  and  rosy  youth,  and  beauty's  charms. 
With  mogic  sweetness  lulled  his  cares  asleep, 
Till  the  bold  heroes  grasped  the  Golden  Fleece. 
^Mmbly  they  winged  the  bark,  surrounded  soon 
By  Neptune's  friendly  waves  :  secure  they  speed 
O'er  the  known  seas,  by  every  guiding  capo. 
With  prosperous  return.     Tho  myrtle  shores. 
And  glassy  mirror  of  lolcos'  lake, 
With  loud  acclaim  received  them.     Every  vale, 
And  every  hillock,  touched  the  tuneful  stops 
Of  pipes  unnumbered,  for  the  Ram  regained. 


KrrKCTS  OF  TB«  ABOOSiOTlO 

Thus  Phosis  lost  his  pride  :  his  slighted  nymphs 
Along  the  withering  dales  and  pastures  mourned  ; 
Tho    trade-ship    left  his   streams;    the    merchant 
Hie  desert  borders  ;  each  ingenious  art,      [shunned 
Trade,  Liberty,  and  Affluence,  all  retired. 
And  left  to  Want  and  Servitude  their  seats  ; 
Vile  successors  !  and  gloomy  Ignorance, 
Following  like  dreary  Night,  whoso  sable  hand 
Hangs  on  tho  purplo  skirts  of  flying  Day. 

ASClltST    WOOL    C01.STBIE3  ;    AKCiDU,    ATTICA,    TIIKSSALV, 


Sithenee  tho  fleeces  of  Arcadian  plains. 
And  Attic  and  Thcssalian,  bore  esteem  ; 
And  those  in  Grecian  colonies  dispersed, 
Caria  and  Doris,  and  Ionia's  coaat. 
And  famed  Tarentum,  where  Galesus"  tide, 
Rolling  by  ruins  hoar  of  ancient  towns, 
Through  solitary  valleys  seeks  the  sea  : 
Or  green  Altinum,  by  an  hundred  Alps 
High-crowned,  whoso  woods  and  snowy  peaks  aloft 
Shield  her  low  plains  from  tho  rough  northern  blast. 
Those  too  of  Ba'tica's  delicious  fields. 
With  golden  fruitage  blessed  of  highest  taste. 
What  need  I  name  ?  the  Turdetanian  tract, 
Or  rich  Coraxus,  whose  wide  looms  unrolled 
Tho  finest  webs  !  where  scarce  a  talent  weighed 
A  ram's  equivalent.     Then  only  tin 
To  late-improved  Britannia  gave  renown. 

VICIiWlTCDKS  OF  PR08PBR1TY. 

Lo  !  the  revolving  course  of  mighty  time. 

Who  Ic.ftiiioss  aliases,  tumbles  down 

01vin|.ii-    iii.iv    :iirl  lilts  the  lowly  vale. 

Wli'M       I  I      I!       V  m1  ancient  Rome, 

Xhu  1  -,  I"  her  splendid  streets. 

The  ^ui.u_>  \L-L  ui  pLLKL',  or  purple  robe. 

Slow-trailed  triumphal  ?  where  the  Attic  fleece. 

And  Tarentine,  in  warmest  littered  cots. 

Or  sunny  meadows,  clothed  with  costly  care? 

All  in  the  solitude  of  ruin  lost. 

War's  horrid  carnage,  vain  Ambition's  dust. 

Long  lay  the  mournful  realms  of  elder  fame 
In  gloomy  desolation,  till  appeared 
Beauteous  Venetia,  first  of  all  the  nymphs 
Who  from  tho  melancholy  waste  emerged  : 
In  Adria's  gulf  her  clotted  locks  she  laved. 
And  rose  another  Venus  :  each  soft  joy. 
Each  aid  of  life,  her  busy  wit  restored  ; 
Science  revived,  with  all  the  lovely  arts, 
And  all  the  graces.     Restituted  Trade 
To  every  virtue  lent  his  helping  stores, 
And  cheered  the  vales  around  ;  again  the  pipe 
And  bleating  flocks  awaked  the  cheerful  lawn. 

DBA  ;     »0B,  TBI 
LVBU,     ATLAS, 

The  glossy  fleeces  i 
Soft  Asia  boasts,  whe 


500 


RURAL    POETRY. DYER. 


Within  a  lofty  mound  of  circling  hills,  [lakes, 

Spreads  her  delicious  stores  ;  woods,  rocks,  caTes, 
Hills,  lawns,  and  winding  streams  ;  a  region  termed 
The  paradise  of  Indus.     Next  the  plains 
Of  Labor,  by  that  arbor  stretched  immense, 
Through  many  a  realm,  to  Agra,  the  proud  throne 
Of  India's  worshipped  prince,  whose  lust  is  law  : 
Remote  dominions,  nor  to  ancient  fame 
Nor  modern  known,  till  public-hearted  Roe, 
Faithful,  sagacious,  active,  patient,  brave, 
Led  to  their  distant  climes  advent'rous  trade. 


Add,  too,  the  silky  wool  of  Libyan  lands, 
Of  Caza's  bowery  dales,  and  brooky  Cans, 
Whore  lofty  Atlas  spreads  his  verdant  feet, 
While  in  the  clouds  his  hoary  shoulders  bend. 

Next,  proud  Iberia  glories  in  the  growth 
Of  high  Castile,  and  mild  Segovian  glades. 


And  beauteous  Albion,  since  great  Edgar  chased 
The  prowling  wolf,  with  many  a  look  appears 
Of  silky  lustre  ;  chief,  Siluria,  thine  ; 
Thine,  Vaga,  favored  stream  ;  from  sheep  minute 
On  Cambria  bred  :  a  pound  o'erweighs  a  fleece  : 
Gay  Epsom's,  too,  and  Banstead's,  and  what  gleams 
On  Vecta's  isle,  that  shelters  Albion's  fleet 
With  all  its  thunders  ;   or  Salopian  stores, 
Those  which  are  gathered  in  the  fields  of  Clun  : 
High  Cotswold  also  'mong  the  shepherd  swains 
Is  oft  remembered,  though  the  greedy  plough 
Preys  on  its  carpet.     He,'  whose  rustic  Muse 
O'er  heath  and  craggy  holt  her  wing  displayed. 
And  sung  the  bosky  bourns  of  Alfred's  shires. 
Has  favored  Cotswold  with  luxuriant  praise. 
Need  we  the  levels  green  of  Lincoln  note, 
Or  rich  Leicestria's  marly  plains,  for  length 
Of  whitest  locks  and  magnitude  of  fleece 
Peculiar?  envy  of  the  neighboring  realms  ! 
But  why  recount  our  grassy  lawns  alone. 
While  ev'n  the  tillage  of  our  cultured  plains. 
With  bossy  turnip  and  luxuriant  cole, 
Learns  through  the  circling  year  their  flocks  to  feed  ? 


CLOTmNO      MATERIiLS     OF 

CANE,  SILK,  BARK,  GRASS,  COTTON,  GOAT'S   HAIR,    BEAVI 
WOOL  THE  BEST. 

Ingenious  trade,  to  clothe  the  naked  world. 
Her  soft  materials,  not  from  sheep  alone, 
From  various  animals,  reeds,  trees,  and  stones, 
Collects  sagacious.     In  Eubcea's  isle 
A  wondrous  rock-  is  found,  of  which  are  woven 
Vests  incombustible  ;  Batavia,  flax  ; 
Siam's  warm  marish  yields  the  fissile  cane  ; 
Soft  Persia,  silk  ;  Balasor's  shady  hills, 
Tough  bark  of  trees  ;   Peruvian  Pito,  grass  ; 
And  every  sultry  clime  the  snowy  down 
Of  cottonj  bursting  from  its  stubborn  shell 
To  gleam  amid  the  verdure  of  the  grove. 

1  Drayton.         2  a  wondrous  rock  —  the  Asbestos. 


With  glossy  hair  of  Tibet's  shagged  goat 
Are  light  tiaras  woven,  that  wreathe  the  head, 
And  airy  float  behind.     The  beaver's  flix 
Gives  kindliest  warmth  to  weak  enervate  limbs. 
When  the  pale  blood  slow  rises  through  the  veins. 
Still  shall  o'er  all  prevail  the  shepherd's  stores, 
For  numerous  uses  known  :  none  yield  such  warmth, 
Such  beauteous  hues  receive,  so  long  endure  ; 
So  pliant  to  the  loom,  so  various,  none. 

FAT-TAILED   SHEEP  OE   ASIA   MINOR  ;   KANSAS  AND    LOUISIANA 

Wild  rove  the  flocks,  no  burdening  fleece  they  bear 
In  fervid  climes  :  Nature  gives  naught  in  vain. 
Carmanian  wool  on  the  broad  tail  alone 
Resplendent  swells,,  enormous  in  its  growth  : 
As  the  sleek  ram  from  green  to  green  removes, 
On  aiding  wheels  his  heavy  pride  he  draws, 
And  glad  resigns  it  for  the  hatters'  use. 

Ev'n  in  the  new  Columbian  world  appears 
The  woolly  covering  :  Apacheria's  glades, 
And  Causes','  echo  to  the  pipes  and  flocks       [sands. 
Of  foreign  swains.    While  Time  shakes  down  his 
And  works  continual  change,  be  none  secure  : 
Quicken  your  labors,  brace  your  slackening  nerves, 
Ye  Britons  !  nor  sleep  careless  on  the  lap 
Of  bounteous  Nature  ;  she  is  elsewhere  kind. 
See  Mississippi  lengthen  on  her  lawns, 
Propitious  to  the  shepherds  :  see  the  sheep  ' 
Of  fertile  Arica,^  like  camels  formed, 
Which  bear  huge  burdens  to  the  sea-beat  shore, 
And  shine  with  fleeces  soft  as  feathery  down. 


Coarse  Bothnic  locks  are  not  devoid  of  use  ; 
They  clothe  the  mountain  carl,  or  mariner 
Laboring  at  the  wet  shrouds,  or  stubborn  helm, 
While  the  loud  billows  dash  the  groaning  deck. 
All  may  not  Stroud's  or  Taunton's  vestures  weai 
Nor  what,  from  fleece  Ratiean,''  mimic  flowers 
Of  rich  Damascus  :  many  a  texture  bright 
Of  that  material  in  Prajtorium*  woven, 
Or  in  Norvicum,  cheats  the  curious  eye. 


If  any  wool  peculiar  to  our  isle 
Is  given  by  Nature,  't  is  the  comber's  lock. 
The  soft,  the  snow-white,  and  the  long-grown  flake. 
Hither  be  turned  the  public's  wakeful  eye, 
This  golden  fleece  to  guard,  with  strictest  watch. 
From  the  dark  hand  of  pilfering  Avarice, 
Who,  like  a  spectre,  haunts  the  midnight  hour. 
When  Nature  wide  around  him  lies  supine 
And  silent,  in  the  tangles  soft  involved 
Of  death-like  sleep  :  he  then  the  moment  marks, 
While  the  pale  moon  illumes  the  trembling  tide. 
Speedy  to  lift  the  canvas,  bend  the  oar. 
And  waft  his  thefts  to  the  perfidious  foe. 

1  Apacheria  and  Canses  [Kansas],  provinces  in  Louisiana, 
on  the  western  side  of  the  Mississippi.  [The  Uniteii  States 
produced,  in  1850,  fifty-two  and  a  half  miUion  pounds  of  wool. 
_  J.]  2  These  sheep  are  called  Quanapos. 

s  Arica,  a  province  of  Peru. 

*  Ratasan  fleeces,  the  fleeces  of  Leicestershire.    '  Coventry. 


WINTER  —  FBBRUART. 


501 


llnppy  tho  patriot  who  can  teach  the  means 
To  check  his  frauds,  and  yet  untroubled  leave 
Trade's  open  channels.     Would  a  generous  aid 
To  honest  toil,  in  Cambria's  hilly  tracts. 
Or  where  the  Lune '  or  Cokor  »  wind  their  streams, 
Bo  found  sufficient?     Far,  their  airy  fields, 
Far  from  infectious  luxury  arise. 
0,  might  their  mazy  dales,  and  mountain  sides, 
With  copious  fleeces  of  lorne  shine. 
And  gulfy  Caledonia,  wisely  bent 
On  wealthy  fisheries  and  flaxen  webs  ; 
Then  would  tho  sister  realms,  amid  their  sett,"!. 
Like  the  three  graces  in  harmonious  fold. 
By  mutual  aid  enhance  their  various  charms. 
And  bless  remotest  climes  !  —  To  this  loved  end 
Awake,  Bencvolonco  !  to  this  loved  end 
Strain  all  thy  nerves,  and  every  thought  explore. 


SELKISUNESS 

Far,  far  away,  whose  passions  would  immure 
In  your  own  little  hearts  the  joys  of  life  ; 
(Ye  worms  of  pride  !)  for  your  repast  alone 
Who  claim  all  Nature's  stores,  woods,  waters,  meads, 
All  her  profusion  ;  whose  vile  hands  would  grasp 
The  peasant's  scantling,  the  weak  widow's  mito, 
And  in  the  sepulchre  of  Self  entomb 
Whato'er  ye  can,  whato'er  ye  cannot  use. 
Know,  for  superior  ends  the  Almighty  Power 
(The  Power  whoso  tender  arms  embrace  tho  worm) 
Breathes  o'er  the  foodful  earth  the  breath  of  life, 
And  forms  us  manifold  ;  allots  to  each 
His  fair  peculiar,  wisdom,  wit,  and  strength  ; 
Wisdom,  and  wit,  and  strength,  in  sweet  accord. 
To  aid,  to  cheer,  to  counsel,  to  protect. 
And  twist  the  mighty  bond.     Thus  feeble  man. 
With  man  united,  is  a  nation  strong  ; 
Builds  towery  cities,  satiates  every  want, 
And  makes  the  seas  profound,  and  forests  wild. 
The  gardens  of  his  joys.     Man,  each  man 's  born 
For  the  high  business  of  the  public  good. 


WISDOM.  —  PUKB   BBLIOION   DEFISBD. 

For  me,  't  is  mine  to  pray  that  men  regard 
Their  occupations  with  an  honest  heart 
And  cheerful  diligence  ;  like  the  useful  bee. 
To  gather  for  the  hive  not  sweets  alone, 
But  wax,  and  each  material  ;  pleased  to  find 
Whate'er  may  soothe  distress,  and  raise  the  fallen. 
In  life's  rough  race.     0,  be  it  as  my  wish  ! 
'T  is  mine  to  teach  th'  inactive  hand  to  reap 
Kind  Nature's  bounties,  o'er  tho  globe  diffused. 

For  this  I  wake  the  weary  hours  of  rest ; 
With  this  desire,  the  merchant  I  attend  ; 
By  this  impelled,  the  shepherd's  hut  I  seek. 
And,  as  he  tends  his  flock,  his  lectures  hear 
Attentive,  pleased  with  pure  simplicity, 

»  Lune,  a  river  in  Cumberland. 
2  Cokcr,  a  river  in  Lancashire. 


And  rules  divulged  bonefloont  to  aheep  : 
Or  turn  tho  compass  o'er  tho  painted  chart. 
To  mark  the  ways  of  traflio  ;  Volga's  stream, 
Cold  Uudson's  cloudy  straits,  warm  Afric's  cape, 
Latium's  firm  roads,  tho  Ptolemean  fosse. 
And  China's  long  canals  ;  those  noble  works. 
Those  high  effects  of  oiviliiing  trade, 
Employ  me,  sedulous  of  public  weal  : 
Yet  not  unmindful  of  my  sacred  charge  ; 
Thus  also  mindful,  thus  devising  good. 
At  vacant  seasons  oft,  when  evening  mild 
Purples  tho  valleys,  and  the  shepherd  counts 
His  flock,  returning  to  tho  quiet  fold 
With  dumb  complacence  ;  for  religion,  this. 
To  give  our  every  comfort  to  distress, 
And  follow  virtue  with  an  humble  mind  ; 
This  pure  religion. 

BISHOP    BLiIZE     ASD     BIS     IMVESTInN     OF     WOOI.-COMBISO  ; 
A  BLBSSl.MO  TO  TUB  POOn. 

Thus,  in  elder  time. 
The  reverend  Blasius  wore  his  leisure  hours. 
And  slumbers  broken  oft ;  till,  filled  at  length 
j  With  inspiration,  after  various  thought. 
And  trials  manifold,  his  well-known  voice 
Gathered  the  poor,  and  o'er  Vulcanian  stoves. 
With  tepid  lees  of  oil,  and  spiky  comb,         [length. 
Showed  how    the    fleece   might  stretch  to  greater 
And  cast  a  glossier  whiteness.    Wheels  went  round; 
Matrons  and  maids  with  songs  relieved  their  toils,      i 
And  every  loom  received  the  softer  yarn. 
What  poor,  what  widow,  Blasius  !  did  not  bless 
Thy  teaching  hand  ?  thy  bosom,  like  the  morn, 
Opening  its  wealth,  what  nation  did  not  seek 
Of  thy  new-modelled  wool  tho  curious  webs  ? 

FESTIVALS  IS  HOSOB  OF   BP.  BI.AIZE  DESCRIBED. 

Hence  the  glad  cities  of  the  loom  his  name 
Honor  with  yearly  festals  :  through  their  streets 
The  pomp,  with  tuneful  sounds  and  order  just. 
Denoting  Labor's  happy  progress,  moves, 
Procession  slow  and  solemn  :  first  the  rout. 
Then  servient  youth,  and  magisterial  eld  ; 
Each  after  each,  according  to  his  rank, 
His  sway,  and  office,  in  the  common  weal ; 
And  to  the  board  of  smiling  Plenty's  stores 
Assemble,  where  delicious  cates  and  fruits 
Of  every  clime  are  piled  ;  and  with  free  hand 
Toil  only  tastes  the  feast,  by  nerveless  Ease 
Unrelished.     Various  mirth  and  song  resound  ; 
And  oft  they  interpose  improving  talk. 
Divulging  each  to  other  knowledge  rare. 
Sparks  from  experience  that  sometimes  arise. 
Till   night   weighs  down    tho   sense,  or  morning's 
Houses  to  labor  man  to  labor  born.  [dawn 

WOOL    COSIBISQ     AND     CABDISO  i     BLEACHISO    ASD     DTBI.IO 
MATERIALS  J  BLACK,  SCARLBT,  OBBES  COLORS. 

Then  the  sleek  brightening  lock  from  hand  to  hand 
Renews  its  circling  course  :  this  feels  tho  card  ; 
That,  in  the  oomb,  admires  its  growing  length  ; 


502 


RURAL    POETRY. DYER. 


This,  blanched,  emerges  from  the  oily  wave  j 
And  that,  the  amber  tint  or  ruby  drinks. 

For  it  suffices  not  in  flowery  vales 
Only  to  tend  the  flock,  and  shear  soft  wool ; 
Gums  must  be  stored  of  Guinea's  arid  coast, 
Mexican  woods,  and  India's  brightening  salts  ; 
Fruits,  herbage,  sulphurs,  minerals,  to  stain 
The  fleece  prepared,  with  oil-imbibing  earth 
Of  Wooburn  blanches,  and  keen  alum-waves 
Intenerate.     With  curious  eye  observe 
In  what  variety  the  tribe  of  salts. 
Gums,  ores,  and  liquors,  eye-delighting  hues 
Produce,  abstersive  or  restringent  ;  how 
Steel  casts  the  sable  ;  how  pale  pewter,  fused 
In  fluid  spirituous,  the  scarlet  dye  ; 
And  how  each  tint  is  made,  or  mixed,  or  changed, 
By  mediums  colorless  :  why  is  the  fume 
Of  sulphur  kind  to  white  and  azure  hues. 
Pernicious  else  ?  why  no  materials  yield 
Singly  their  colors,  those  except  that  shine 
With  topaz,  sapphire,  and  cornelian  rays  : 
And  why,  though  Nature's  face  is  clothed  in  green. 
No  green  is  found  to  beautify  the  fleece 
But  what  repeated  toil  by  mixture  gives. 

DYEING  5  DREBET  }  CRIMSON  ;    MELCARTH  OR 


To  find  efiects  where  causes  lie  concealed 
Reason  uncertain  tries  :  howe'er,  kind  Chance 
Oft  with  equivalent  discovery  pays 
Its  wandering  eSbrts.     Thus  the  German  sage, 
Diligent  Drebet,  o'er  alchymie  Are 
Seeking  the  secret  source  of  gold,  received 
Of  altered  cochineal  the  crimson  store. 
Tyrian  Meloartus  thus  (the  first  who  brought 
Tin's  useful  ore  from  Albion's  distant  isle. 
And  for  unwearied  toils  and  arts  the  name 
Of  Hercules  acquired),  when  o'er  the  mouth 
Of  his  attendant  sheep-dog  he  beheld 
The  wounded  murex  strike  a  purple  stain, 
The  purple  stain  on  fleecy  woofs  he  spread, 
Which  lured  the  eye,  adorning  many  a  nymph. 
And  drew  the  pomp  of  trade  to  rising  Tyre. 

NATIVE  BRITISH  DTE-STDFFS  j   WELD,   MADDER,   WOAD. 

Our  valleys  yield  not,  or  but  sparing  yield. 
The  dyer's  gay  materials.     Only  weld. 
Or  root  of  madder,  here,  or  purple  woad. 
By  which  our  naked  ancestors  obscured 
Their  hardy  limbs,  inwrought  with  mystic  forms. 
Like  Egypt's  obelisks.     The  powerful  sun 
Hot  India's  zone  with  gaudy  pencil  paints, 
And  drops  delicious  tints  o'er  hill  and  dale. 
Which  Trade  to  us  conveys. 


Him,  the  all-wise  Creator,  and  declares 

His  presence,  power,  and  goodn 

'T  is  Trade,  attentive  voyager,  who  fills 

His  lips  with  argument.     To  censure  Trade, 

Or  hold  her  busy  people  in  contempt. 

Let  none  presume.     The  dignity,  and  grace. 

And  weal  of  human  life,  their  fountains  owe 

To  seeming  imperfections,  to  vain  wants, 

Or  real  exigencies  ;  passions  swift 

Forerunning  reason  ;  strong  contrarious  bents. 

The  steps  of  men  dispersing  wide  abroad 

O'er  realms  and  seas.     There,  in  the  solemn  scene, 

Infinite  wonders  glare  before  their  eyes. 

Humiliating  the  mind  enlarged  ;  for  they 

The  clearest  sense  of  Deity  receive 

Who  view  the  widest  prospectof  his  works,  [climes; 

Ranging   the    globe    with   trade   through   various 

Who  see  the  signatures  of  boundless  love, 

Nor  less  the  judgments  of  Almighty  Power, 

That  warn  the  wicked,  and  the  wretch  who  'scapes 

From  human  justice  ;  who,  astonished,  view 

.Etna's  loud  thunders  and  tempestuous  fires  ; 

The  dust  of  Carthage  ;  desert  shores  of  Nile  ; 

Or  Tyre's  abandoned  summit,  crowned  of  old  [isles 

With  stately  towers  ;  whose  merchants,  from  their 

And  radiant  thrones,  assembled  in  their  marts  ; 

Whither  Arabia,  whither  Kedar,  brought    [Iambs  ; 

Their    shaggy   goats,    their    flocks,    and    bleating 

Where  rich  Damascus  piled  his  fleeces  white. 

Prepared,  and  thirsty  for  the  double  tint 

And  flowering  shuttle. 

TTRE.  —  RUINOUS  EFFECTS  OF  COMMEROAL  WEALTH  THROUGH 

While  th'  admiring  world 
Crowded  her  streets,  ah  !  then  the  hand  of  Pride 
Sowed  imperceptible  his  poisonous  weed, 
Which  crept  destructive  up  her  lofty  domes, 
As  ivy  creeps  around  the  graceful  trunk 
Of  some  tall  oak.     Her  lofty  domes  no  more, 
Not  even  the  ruins  of  her  pomp  remain  ; 
Not  even  the  dust  they  sunk  in  ;  by  the  breath 
Of  the  Omnipotent  oifended  hurled 
Down  to  the  bottom  of  the  stormy  deep  : 
Only  the  solitary  rock  remains. 
Her  ancient  site  ;  a  monument  to  those 
Who  toil  and  wealth  exchange  for  sloth  and  pride.' 


Not  tints  alone  ; 
Trade  to  the  good  physician  gives  his  balms  ; 
Gives  cheering  cordials  to  th'  afliicted  heart  ; 
Gives  to  the  wealthy  delicacies  high  ; 
Gives  to  the  curious  works  of  Nature  rare  ; 
And  when  the  priest  displays,  in  just  discourse, 


I  ti-uly  and  permanently  prosper. 


WINTER —  FEBRUARY. 


labor.  The  several 
methods  of  spinning.  Description  of  the  looni,  and  of 
weaving.  Variety  of  looms.  The  fuUing-mlU  described, 
and  the  progress  of  the  manufacture.  Dyeing  of 
and  the  excellence  of  the  French  in  that  i 
negligence  of  our  artificers.  The  111  < 
neas.  Country  workhouses  proposed  ; 
of  one.  Good  etPecta  of  industry  exemplifled  In  the  pros- 
pect of  nurstal  and  Leeds ;  and  the  cloth-market  there 
described.    Preftrence  of  the  labors  of  Uie  loom  to  other 

of  the  art  of  weaving  ;  Its  removal  from  the  Netherlands, 
and  settlement  in  several  parts  of  England.  Censure  of 
those  who  would  rejwt  the  perspcutH  aii'l  rb.'  «lranper  ; 


todiir.T.  li           •  ■     \  .  ■.  ' 

',  M   ■  i   ■      I.I  iliL-ir 

imluscij,;!. 

rivers  tlin.ush  »l,i  >. 

Our  iiaviRiitions  M.t  i 

:   .  .lillfaC- 

Egypt  in  joining  tl.   X                i; 

ocean  and  the  Meaitci-niiieiui.    Su 

easily  Iw  performed  in  England,  an 

d  the  Trent  and  Severn 

united  to  the  Thames.    Descripti 

the  port  of  London. 

Proceed,  /Vrcadian  Muse  !  resume  the  pipe 
Of  Ilermes,  long  diffused,  though  sweet  the  tone, 
And  to  the  songs  of  Nature's  choristers 
Ilarmonious.     Audience  pure  be  thy  delight. 
Though  few  ;   for  every  note  which  Virtue  wounds, 
However  pleasing  to  the  vulgar  herd, 
To  the  purged  ear  is  discord.     Yet  too  oft 
Has  false  dissembling  Vice  to  amorous  airs 
The  reed  applied,  and  heedless  youth  allured  : 
Too  oft,  with  bolder  sound,  inflamed  the  rage 
Of  horrid  war.     Let  now  the  fleecy  looms 
Direct  our  rural  numbers,  as  of  old,  [haunts. 

When   plains    and    sheep-folds    were    the    Muacs' 


So  thou,  the  friend  of  every  virtuous  deed 
And  aim,  though  feeble,  shalt  these  rural  lays 
Approve,  0  Heathcote  ! '  whose  benevolence 
Visits  our  valleys,  where  the  pasture  spreads, 
And  where  the  bramble,  and  would  justly  act 
True  charity,  by  teaching  idle  Want 
And  Vice  the  inclination  to  do  good  ; 
Good  to  themselves,  and  in  themselves  to  all. 
Through  grateful  toil. 

LABOR.  —  HONOR  TO    LABOR   IN    ANCIENT    COMUONWEALTHS. 

Even  Nature  lives  by  toil  : 
Beast,    bird,   air,    fire,   the  heavens,    and    rolling 
All  live  by  notion  :  nothing  lies  at  rest        [worlds, 
But  death  and  ruin  :  man  is  born  to  care  ; 
Fashioned,  improved,  by  labor.     This  of  old 
Wise  states  observing,  gave  that  happy  law 
Which  doomed  the  rich  and  needy,  every  rank, 

1  Sir  John  Heathcote,  of  Normanton,  in  Rutlandshire. 


To  manual  occupation  :  and  oft  called 

Their  chieftains  from  the  spade,  or  furrowing  plough, 

Or  bleating  sheepfold.     Hence  utility 

Through  all  conditions  ;  hence  the  Joys  of  health  ; 

Hence  strength  of  arm,  and  clear  judicious  thought; 

Hence  corn,  and  wine,  and  oil,  and  all  in  lifo 

Delectable. 


What  simple  Nature  yields 
(And  Nature  does  her  part)  are  only  rude 
Materials,  cumbers  on  the  thorny  ground  ;     [fleece 
'Tis  toil  that  makes  them  wealth  ;   that  makes  the 
(Yet  useless,  rising  in  unshapen  heaps) 
Anon,  in  curious  woofs  of  beauteous  hue, 
A  vesture  usefully  succinct  and  warm, 
Or,  trailing  in  the  length  of  graceful  folds, 
A  royal  mantle. 


Come,  ye  village  nymphs  ! 
The  scattered  mists  reveal  the  dusky  hills  ; 
Gray  dawn  appears  ;  the  golden  morn  ascends. 
And  paints  the  glittering  rocks,  and  purple  woods, 
And  flaming  spires  :  arise,  begin  your  toils  ; 
Behold  the  fleece  beneath  the  spiky  comb 
Drop  its  long  looks,  or  from  the  mingling  card 
Spread  in  soft  flakes,  and  swell  the  whitened  floor. 

SPINSINP.  i  ITS  DIKKERENT  KINDS. 

Come,  village  nymphs,  yo  luatrtms,  and  ye  maids  ! 

Receive  the  s'lU  iniii'i  I, it  ;    wkIiIi^miI  -\'\> 
Whether  ye  tin  n  ,i;    u'   I  i    ■     |  i.  i    .  .1. 

Or,  patient  sirr  m  j    ' !   r  i .       I ,  •  ,    ■.  i,     [i  \    im,^ 
An..rn.w.T.M,    :         <k,  d.c  l.nllk  >»..ik 
Pi.il. I        I     I  I        ■  y  .  ;iud  let  the  hand  assist 
T.I  ^'111  i      .1  I    II    :    I  ih._'  gently-lessening  thread  ; 


viU  I 


skill. 


A  (litlVrLiit  spinning  c\'ery  diff"crcnt  web 

Asks  from  your  glowing  fingers  :  some  require 

The  more  compact  and  some  the  looser  wreath  ; 

The  last  f.jr  softness,  to  delight  the  touch 

Of  chambered  delicacy  :  scarce  the  cirque 

Need  turn  around,  or  twine  the  lengthening  flake. 


There  are,  to  speed  their  labor,  who  prefer 
Wheels  double-spooled,  which  yield  to  either  hand 
A  several  line  ;  and  many  yet  adhere 
To  th'  ancient  distaif,  at  the  bosom  fixed. 
Casting  the  whirling  spindle  as  they  walk  : 
At  homo,  or  in  the  sheepfold,  or  the  mart. 
Alike  the  work  proceeds.     This  method  still 
Norvicum  favors,  and  the  Icenian '  towns  : 
It  yields  their  airy  stufls  an  aptor  thread. 

HELEN     AND    HER    BISTAFF  ;     PAfL'S    SPIRAL    ENOINE,  Wmi 
UAXr  SPOOLS. 

This  was  of  old,  in  no  inglorious  days, 
The  mode  of  spinning  when  the  Egyptian  prinoe 


'  The  Iceol  v 


:  the  Inhabitants  of  SuOblk. 


504 


RURAL    POETRY. 


A  golden  distaff  gave  that  beauteous  nymph, 
Too  beauteous  Helen  !  no  unoourtly  gift 
Then,  when  each  gay  diversion  of  the  fair 
Led  to  ingenious  use.     But  patient  art, 
That  on  experience  worlis,  from  hour  to  hour, 
Sagacious,  has  a  spiral  engine^  formed, 
Which  on  an  hundred  spools  an  hundred  threads, 
With  one  huge  wheel,  by  lapse  of  water,  twines. 
Pew  hands  requiring  ;  easy  tended  work, 
That  copiously  supplies  the  greedy  loom. 

LABOR-SAVING   MACmNERY  ;   IT   NEED   NOT  RODSE  THE   JEAL- 
OUST   OF   OPERATIVES. — CHEERFUL   OCCUPATIONS. 

Nor  hence,  ye  nymphs  !    let  anger  cloud   youi 

The  more  is  wrought  the  more  is  still  required  : 
Blithe  o'er  your  toils,  with  wonted  song,  proceed  : 
Fear  not  surcharge  ;  your  hands  will  ever  find 
Ample  employment.     In  the  strife  of  trade 
These  curious  instruments  of  speed  obtain 
Various  advantage,  and  the  diligent 
Supply  with  exercise,  as  fountains  sure, 
Which  ever-gliding  feed  the  flowery  lawn  : 
Nor,  should  the  careful  State,  severely  kind. 
In  every  province  to  the  house  of  toil, 
Compel  the  vagrant,  and  each  implement 
Of  ruder  art,  the  comb,  the  card,  the  wheel. 
Teach  their  unwilling  hands,  nor  yet  complain  : 
Yours  with  the  public  good  shall  ever  rise, 
Ever,  while  o'er  the  lawns  and  airy  downs 
The  bleating  sheep  and  shepherd's  pipe  are  heard  ; 
While  in  the  brook  ye  blanch  the  glistening  fleece, 
And  the  amorous  youth,  delighted  with  your  toils, 
Quavers  the  choicest  of  his  sonnets,  warmed 
By  growing  traffic,  friend  to  wedded  love. 


The  amorous  youth  with  various  hopes  inflamed, 
Now  on  the  busy  stage  see  him  step  forth, 
With  beating  breast :  high-honored  he  beholds 
Rich  industry.     First,  he  bespeaks  a  loom  ; 
From  some  thick  wood  the  carpenter  selects 
A  slender  oak,  or  beech  of  glossy  trunk. 
Or  sapling  ash  :  he  shapes  the  sturdy  beam, 
The  posts,  and  treadles,  and  the  frame  combines  : 
The  smith,  with  iron  screws  and  plated  hoops, 
Confirms  the  strong  machine,  and  gives  the  bolt 
That  strains  the  roll.     To  these  the  turner's  lathe 
And  graver's  knife  the  hollow  shuttle  add. 
"Various  professions  in  the  work  unite, 
For  each  on  each  depends.     Thus  he  acquires 
The  curious  engine,  work  of  subtle  skill  ; 
Howe'er,  in  vulgar  use  around  the  globe 
Frequent  observed,  of  high  antiquity 
No  doubtful  mark  :  the  adventurous  voyager, 
Tossed  over  ocean  to  remotest  shores. 
Hears  on  remotest  shores  the  murmuring  loom, 
Sees  the  deep-furrowing  plough  and  harrowed  field, 


The  wheel-moved  wagon,  and  the  discipline 
Of  strong-yoked  steers.     What  needful  art  i 


Next,  the  industrious  youth  employs  his  care 
To  store  soft  yarn  !  and  now  he  strains  the  warp 
Along  the  garden-walk,  or  highway  side, 
Smoothing  each  thread  :  now  fits  it  to  the  loom. 
And  sits  before  the  work  ;   from  hand  to  hand 
The  thready  shuttle  glides  along  the  lines. 
Which  open  to  the  woof,  and  shut,  altorn  ; 
And  ever  and  anon,  to  firm  the  work, 
Against  the  web  is  driven  the  noisy  frame, 
Tliiit  o'er  the  level  rushes,  like  a  surge 
Which,  often  dashing  on  the  sandy  beach, 
Compacts  the  traveller's  road  :  from  hand  to  hand 
Again,  across  the  lines  oft  opening,  glides 
The  thready  shuttle,  while  the  web  apace 
Increases,  as  the  light  of  eastern  skies 
Spread  by  the  rosy  fingers  of  the  morn, 
And  all  the  fair  expanse  with  beauty  glows. 

Or  if  the  broader  mantle  be  the  task. 
He  chooses  some  companion  to  his  toil. 
From  side  to  side,  with  amicable  aim, 
Each  to  the  other  darts  the  nimble  bolt ; 
While  friendly  converse,  prompted  by  the  work, 
Kindles  improvement  in  the  opening  mind. 

VARIOUS  KINDS  OF   LOOMS  }   FIGURING  AND  STOCKING   L003IS. 

What  need  we  name  the  several  kinds  of  looms  ? 
Those  delicate,  to  whose  fair-colored  threads 
Hang  figured  weights,  whose  various  numbers  guide 
The  artist's  hand  :  he,  unseen  flowers,  and  trees. 
And  vales,  and  azure  hills,  unerring  works  : 
Or  that,  whose  numerous  needles,  glittering  bright. 
Weave  the  warm  hose  to  cover  tender  limbs  ; 
Modern  invention  ;  modern  is  the  want. 


Next,  from  the  slackened  beam  the  woof  unrolled, 
Near  solne  clear-sliding  river,  Aire  or  Stroud, 
Is  by  the  noisy  fulling-mill  received  ; 
AVhere  tumbling  waters  turn  enormous  wheels. 
And  hammers,  rising  and  descending,  learn 
To  imitate  the  industry  of  man. 

Oft  the  wet  web  is  steeped,  and  often  raised, 
Past  dripping,  to  the  river's  grassy  bank, 
A  nd  sinewy  arms  of  men,  with  full-strained  strength. 
Wring  out  the  latent  water  :  then  up  hung 
On  rugged  tenters,  to  the  fervid  sun 
Its  level  surface,  reeking,  it  expands  ; 
Still  brightening  in  each  rigid  discipline. 
And  gathered  worth  ;  as  human  life,  in  pains, 
Conflicts,  and  troubles.     Soon  the  clothiei-'s  shears 
And  burlei-'s  thistle  skim  the  surface  sheen. 
The  round  of  work  goes  on  from  day  to  day, 
Season  to  season.     So  the  husbandman 
Pursues  his  cares  ;  his  plough  divides  the  glebe  ; 
The  seed  is  sown  ;  rough  rattle  o'er  the  clods 
The  harrow's  teeth  ;  quick  weeds  his  hoe  subdues  : 


WINTER  —  FEBRUARY. 


505 


The  sicklo  labors,  and  the  slow  team  strains, 
Till  grateful  harvest-homo  rewards  his  toils. 

DTKISC;    WBLD,   FCSTIC,  COCUISEiL,   W04D.  — STOW«. 

The  ingenious  artist,  learned  in  drugs,  bestows 
The  last  improvement ;  for  the  unlabored  flcceo 
Kare  is  permitted  to  imbibe  the  dye. 
In  penetrating  waves  of  boiling  vats 
The  snowy  web  is  steeped,  with  grain  of  weld, 
Fustic,  or  logwood,  mixed,  or  cochineal. 
Or  the  dark  purple  pulp  of  Pictish  woad, 
Of  stain  tenacious,  deep  as  summer  skies. 
Like  those  that  canopy  the  bowers  of  Stow 
After  soft  rains,  when  birds  their  notes  attune. 
Ere  the  melodious  nightingale  begins. 

COLORS,    MOBDASTS,    PIXATIVBS  i     FIVE    PRIMAL    COLORS.  — 
TUS   BEST   DVE,  ASD^DYEISG. 

From  yon  broad  vase  behold  the  saffron  woofs 
Beauteous  emerge  ;  from  these  the  azure  rise  j 
This  glows  with  crimson  ;  that  the  auburn  holds  ; 
These  shall  the  prince  with  purple  robes  adorn. 
And  those  the  warrior  mark,  and  those  the  priest. 

Few  are  the  primal  colors  of  the  art ; 
Five  only  ;  black,  and  yellow,  blue,  brown,  red  ; 
Yet  hence  innumerable  hues  arise. 

That  stain  alone  is  good  which  bears  unchanged 
Dissolving  water's,  and  calcining  sun's, 
And  thieving  air's  attacks,     llow  great  the  need 
With  utmost  caution  to  prepare  the  woof, 
To  seek  the  best-adapted  dyes,  and  salts. 
And  purest  gums  !  since  your  whole  skill  consists 
In  opening  well  the  fibres  of  the  woof. 
For  the  reception  of  the  beauteous  dye. 
And  wedging  every  grain  in  every  pore. 
Firm  as  a  diamond  in  rich  gold  enchased. 

ENGLISH  AND  FRENCH  DYES. 

But  what  the  powers,  wh  ich  lock  them  in  the  web ; 
Whether  incrusting  salts,  or  weight  of  air. 
Or  fountain-water's  cold  contracting  wave, 
Or  all  combined,  it  well  befiU  to  know. 
Ah  !  wherefore  have  we  lost  our  old  repute  ? 
And  who  inquires  the  cause  why  Gallia's  sons 
In  depth  and  brilliancy  of  hues  e.^cel  ? 
Yet  yield  not,  Britons  !  grasp  in  every  art 
The  foremost  name.     Let  others  tamely  view, 
On  crowded  Smyrna's  and  Byzantium's  strand. 
The  haughty  Turk  despise  their  proffered  bales. 

TOE  weaver's    CDBSE,  INTEMPERANCE. 

Now  sec,  o'er  vales  and  peopled  mountain-tops 
The  welcome  traders  gathering  every  web. 
Industrious,  every  web  too  few.     Alas  ! 
Successless  oft  their  industry,  when  cease 
The  loom  and  shuttle  in  the  troubled  streets  ; 
Their  motion  stopped  by  wild  intemperance. 
Toil's  scoffing  foe,  who  lures  the  giddy  rout 
To  scorn  their  task-work,  and  to  vagrant  life 
Turns  their  rude  steps,  while  Misery,  among 
The  cries  of  infants,  haunts  their  mouldering  huts. 


64 


0  when,  through  every  province,  sholl  be  raised 
Houses  of  labor,  seats  of  kind  constraint. 
For  those  who  now  delight  in  fruitless  sports 
More  than  in  cheerful  works  of  virtuous  trade. 
Which  honest  wealth  would  yield,  and  portion  duo 
Of  public  welfare  ?     Ho,  ye  poor  !  who  seek. 
Among  the  dwellings  of  the  diligent. 
For  sustenance  unearned  ;  who  stroll  abroad 
From  house  to  house,  with  mischievous  intent, 
Feigning  misfortune  :  ho,  ye  lame  !  ye  blind  ! 
Yc  languid  limbs,  with  real  want  oppressed. 
Who  tread  the  rough  highways  and  mountains  wild, 
Through  storms,  and  rains,  and  bitterness  of  heart ; 
Ye  children  of  affliction  !  bo  compelled 
To  happiness  :  the  long-wished  daylight  dawns. 
When  charitable  Kigor  shall  detain 
Your  step-bruised  feet.    Even  now  the  sons  of  Trade, 
Where'er  their  cultivated  hamlets  smile, 
Erect  the  mansion  :  ^  here  soft  fleeces  shine  ; 
The  card  awaits  you,  and  the  comb,  and  wheel  : 
Here  shroud  you  from  the  thunder  of  the  storm  ; 
No  rain  shall  wet  your  pillow  :  here  abounds 
Pure  beverage  ;  here  your  viands  are  prepared  : 
To  heal  each  sickness  the  physician  waits. 
And  priest  entreats  to  give  your  Maker  praise. 

CALDER-VALB.  —  WOOL-WEAVISO    IN   WORK-HOCSES  ;     WAKB- 

Bchold,  in  Calder's  2  vale,  where  wide  around 
Unnumbered  villas  creep  the  shrubby  hills, 
A  spacious  dome  for  this  fair  purpose  rise  : 
High  o'er  the  oiien  gates,  with  gracious  air, 
Eliza's  image  stands.     By  gentle  steps 
Up-raised,  from  room  to  room  we  slowly  walk, 
And  view  with  wonder,  and  with  silent  joy, 
The  sprightly  scene  ;  where  many  a  busy  hand. 
Where  spools,  cards,  wheels,  and  looms,  with  motion 

And  ever-murmuring  sound,  the  unwonted  sense 
Wrap  in  surprise.     To  see  them  all  employed. 
All  blithe,  it  gives  the  spreading  heart  delight. 
As  neither  meats,  nor  drinks,  nor  aught  of  joy 
Corporeal,  can  bestow.     Nor  less  they  gain 
Virtue  than  wealth,  while,  on  their  useful  works 
From  day  to  day  intent,  in  their  full  minds 
Evil  no  place  can  find. 


With  equal  scalo 
Some  deal  abroad  the  well-assorted  fleece  ; 
These  card  the  short,  those  comb  the  longer  flake  : 
Others  the  harsh  and  clotted  lock  receive. 
Yet  sever  and  refine  with  patient  toil. 
And  bring  to  proper  use.     Flax  too,  and  hemp. 
Excite  their  diligence.     The  younger  hands 
Ply  at  the  easy  work  of  winding  yarn 

•  Erect  the  mansion.  This  alludes  to  the  work-homes  i 
Bristol,  Birmingham,  *c.  

!  Cnldcr,  a  river  in  Yorkshire,  which  nins  below  IlaUllu, 
and  passes  bjr  WakcHcld. 


506 


RURAL   POETRY. 


On  swiftly-circling  engines,  and  their  notes 
Warble  together,  as  a  choir  of  larks  ; 
Such  joy  arises  in  the  inind  employed. 
Another  scene  displays  the  more  robust 
Rasping  or  grinding  tough  Brazilian  woods, 
And  what  Campeachy's  disputable  shore 
Copious  affords  to  tinge  the  thirsty  web, 
And  the  Caribbee  isles,  whose  dulcet  canes 
Equal  the  honeycomb. 


Wo  next  are  shown 
A  circular  machine,'  of  new  design, 
In  conic  shape  :  it  draws  and  spins  a  thread 
Without  the  tedious  toil  of  needless  hands. 
A  wheel,  invisible,  beneath  the  floor. 
To  every  member  of  the  harmonious  frame 
Gives  necessary  motion.     One,  intent, 
O'erlooks  the  work  :  the  carded  wool,  he  says, 
Is  smoothly  lapped  around  those  cylinders. 
Which,  gently  turning,  yield  it  to  yon  cirque 
Of  upright  spindles,  which  with  rapid  whirl 
Spin  out,  in  long  extent,  an  even  twine. 


From  this  delightful  mansion  (if  wo  seek 
Still  more  to  view  the  gifts  which  honest  toil 
Distributes)  take  we  now  our  eastward  course 
To  the  rich  fields  of  Burstal.     Wide  around 
Hillock  and  valley,  farm  and  village,  smile  ; 
And  ruddy  roofs  and  chimney  tops  appear 
Of  busy  Leeds,  up-wafting  to  the  clouds 
The  incense  of  thanksgiving  :  all  is  joy  ; 
And  trade  and  business  guide  the  living  scene. 
Roll  the  full  cars,  adown  the  winding  Aire 
Load  the  slow-sailing  barges,  pile  the  pack 
On  the  long  tinkling  train  of  slow-paced  steeds. 


DIGNITY  OF  ISDDSTRT. 

As  when  a  sunny  day  invites  abroad 
The  sedulous  ants,  they  issue  from  their  cells 
In  bands  unnumbered,  eager  for  their  work  ; 
O'er  high,  o'er  low,  they  lift,  they  draw,  they  haste 
With  warm  affection  to  each  other's  aid. 
Repeat  their  virtuous  efforts,  and  succeed. 
Thus  all  is  here  in  motion,  all  is  life  : 
The  creaking  wain  brings  copious  store  of  corn  ; 
The  grazier's  sleeky  kine  obstruct  the  roatls  ; 
The  neat-dressed  housewives,  for  the  festal  board 
Crowned  with  full  baskets,  in  the  field-way  paths 
Come  tripping  on  ;  the  echoing  hills  repeat 
The  stroke  of  axe  and  hammer  ;  scaffolds  rise. 
And  growing  edifices  ;  heaps  of  stone. 
Beneath  the  chisel,  beauteous  shapes  assume 
Of  frize  and  column.     Some,  with  even  line, 
New  streets  are  marking  in  the  neighboring  fields. 


And  sacred  domes  of  worship.     Industry, 
Which  dignifies  the  artist,  lifts  the  swain, 
And  the  straw  cottage  to  a  palace  turns. 
Over  the  work  presides. 


trader's  exchange. 

Such  was  the  scene 
Of  hurrying  Carthage,  when  the  Trojan  chief 
First  viewed  her  growing  turrets  :  so  appear 
The  increasing  walls  of  busy  Manchester, 
Shefiield,  and  Birmingham,  whose  reddening  fields 
Rise  and  enlarge  their  suburbs.     Lo  !  in  throngs. 
For  every  realm,  the  careful  factors  meet. 
Whispering  each  other.     In  long  ranks  the  bales. 
Like  War's  bright  files,  beyond  the  sight  extend. 
Straight,  ere  the  sounding  bell  the  signal  strikes. 
Which  ends  the  hour  of  traffic,  they  conclude 
The  speedy  compact ;  and,  well-pleased,  transfer. 
With  mutual  benefit,  superior  wealth 
To  many  a  kingdom's  rent,  or  tyrant's  hoard. 


Whate'er  is  excellent  in  art  proceeds 
From  labor  and  endurance.     Deep  the  oak 
Must  sink  in  stubborn  earth  its  roots  obscure. 
That  hopes  to  lift  its  branches  to  the  skies. 
Gold  cannot  gold  appear,  until  man's  toil 
Discloses  wide  the  mountain's  hidden  ribs. 
And  digs  the  dusky  ore,  and  breaks  and  grinds 
Its  gritty  parts,  and  laves  in  limpid  streams, 
With  oft-repeated  toil,  and  oft  in  fire 
The  metal  purifies  :  with  the  fatigue 
And  tedious  process  of  its  painful  works 
The  lusty  sicken,  and  the  feeble  die. 

SUPERIORITY   OF  WOOLEN    MANUFACTURING     OVER    OTHER    I! 
DUSTRT  ;    COMPARED   WITH   THAT   OF   FLAX,  SILK,   COTTON, 

But  cheerful  are  the  labors  of  the  loom, 
By  health  and  ease  accompanied  :  they  bring 
Superior  treasures  speedier  to  the  state 
Than  those  of  deep  Peruvian  mines,  where  slaves 
(Wretched  requital  !)  drink,  with  trembling  hand. 
Pale  palsy's  baneful  cup.     Our  happy  swains 
Behold  arising  in  their  fattening  flocks 
A  double  wealth,  more  rich  than  Belgium's  boast. 
Who  tends  the  culture  of  the  flaxen  reed  ; 
Or  the  Cathayan's,  whose  ignobler  care 
Nurses  the  silk-worm  ;  or  of  India's  sons. 
Who  plant  the  cotton-grove  by  Ganges'  stream. 
Nor  do  their  toils  and  products  furnish  more 
Than  gauds  and  dresses,  of  fantastic  web. 
To  the  luxurious  :  but  our  kinder  toils 
Give  clothing  to  necessity  ;  keep  warm 
The  unhappy  wanderer  on  the  mountain  wild 
Benighted,  while  the  tempest  beats  around. 

HOOD   AS  SOLDIERS,  SAILORS,   COLONISTS. 

No,  ye  soft  sons  of  Ganges,  and  of  Ind, 
Ye  feebly  delicate  !  life  little  needs 
Your  feminine  toys,  nor  asks  your  nerveless  arm 


WINTER  —  FEBRUARY. 


507 


To  cast  tho  strong-flung  shuttle  or  the  gpear. 
Can  yo  defend  your  country  from  tho  storm 
Of  strong  invasion  ?     Can  yo  want  endure, 
In  the  bcsiogM  fort,  with  courage  firm  ? 
Can  yo  tho  weather-beaten  vessel  steer, 
Climb  the  tall  mast,  direct  tho  stubborn  helm, 
Hid  wild  discordant  waves,  with  steady  course? 
Can  ye  lead  out,  to  distant  colonics, 
The  o'erflowings  of  a  people,  or  your  wronged 
Brethren,  by  impious  persecution  driven. 
And  arm  their  breasts  with  fortitude  to  try 
New  regions  ;  climes,  though  barren,  yet  beyond 
The  baneful  power  of  tyrants  !     These  are  deeds 
To  which  their  hardy  labors  well  prepare 
The  sinewy  arm  of  Albion's  sons. 

MIGRATIOSS  OF  IDE  WEiVISO  ART  ;   PROM  KGVPT  TO  PHffiSI- 
CIA,  GRBECS,  VENICE,  FLANDERS,  BRITAIN.  —  SCIENCE. 

Pursue, 
Ye  sons  of  Albion  !  with  unyielding  heart. 
Your  hardy  labors  ;  let  tho  sounding  loom 
Mix  with  tho  melody  of  every  vale  ; 
Tho  loom,  that  long-renowned,  wide-envied  gift. 
Of  wealthy  Flandria,"  who  the  boon  received 
From  fair  Venetia  ;  she  from  Grecian  nymphs  ; 
They  from  Phenice,  who  obtained  the  dole 
From  old  J3gyptus.     Thus,  around  the  globe 
The  golden-footed  Sciences  their  path 
Mark,  like  the  sun,  enkindling  life  and  joy  ; 
And,  followed  close  by  Ignorance  and  Pride, 
Lead  Bay  and  Night  o'er  realms. 

FLEMINGS,  EXILED  TOBOtlGB  THE  DCKE  OF  ALVA'S  TTRANNT, 


Our  day  arose. 
When  Alva's  tyranny  the  weaving  arts 
Drove  from  tho  fertile  valleys  of  the  Soheld. 
With  speedy  wing  and  scattered  course  thoy  fled. 
Like  a  community  of  bees,  disturbed 
By  some  relentless  swain's  rapacious  hand  ; 
"While  good  Eliza  to  the  fugitives 
Gave  gracious  welcome  ;  as  wise  Egypt  orst 
To  troubled  Nilus,  whose  nutritious  Hood 
With  annual  gratitude  enriched  her  meads. 
Then  from  fair  Antwerp  an  industrious  train 
Crossed  tho  smooth  channel  of  our  smiling  seas. 
And  in  tho  vales  of  Cantium,  on  the  banks 
Of  Stour  alighted,  and  the  naval  wave 
Of  spacious  Medwoy  :  ."oino  on  gentle  Yare 
And  fertile  Wavonoy  pitched,  and  made  their  seats 
Pleasant  Xorvicum  and  Coloestria's  towers  : 
Some  to  the  Daront  sped  their  happy  way  : 

SOME  MANCFACTCRINO  EMIGRANTS  CAME  FROM  BEROUEM, 
SLCVS,  BRUGES,  ALONG  THE  SOUTU  OF  ENGLAND,  TO  TOE 
SEVERS,   HEREFORD,   WALKS,  ETC. 

Berghem,  and  Pluys,  and  older  Bruges,  chose 
Antona's  chalky  plains,  and  stretched  their  tents 
Down  to  Clauscntum,  and  that  bay  supine 
Beneath  the  shade  of  Vecta's  olifly  isle. 
Soon  o'er  the  hospitable  realm  they  spread, 


With  cheer  revived  ;  and  in  i 
And  the  Silurian  Tame,  their  textures  blanched  ; 
Not  undclighted  with  Vigornia's  spires, 
Nor  those  by  Vaga's  stream,  from  ruins  raised 
Of  ancient  Ariconium  ;  nor  less  pleased 
With  Salop's  various  scenes,  and  that  soft  troot 
Of  Cambria,  deep-embayed,  Dimotian  land, 
By  green  hills  fenced,  by  ocean's  murmur  lulled  ; 
Nurse  of  the  rustic  bard,  who  now  resounds 
The  fortunes  of  tho  fleece  ;  whose  ancestors 
Were  fugitives  from  Superstition's  rage. 
And  erst  from  Devon  thither  brought  the  loom, 
Where  ivied  walls  of  old  Kidwelly's  towers, 
Nodding,  still  on  their  gloomy  brows  project 
Lanciistria's  arms,  embossed  in  mouldering  stone. 
Thus,  then,  on  Albion's  coo^t  the  exiled  band. 
From  rich  Mcnapian  towns,  and  the  green  banks 
Of  Schcld,  alighted  ;  and,  alighting,  sang 
Grateful  thanksgiving. 

EFFECTS  OF  TOE    IMMIGRATION  OF  THE    FLEMISH    WEAVERS 
TCR.N'INO  SHBPUERDS  AND   IDLERS  TO  OPERATIVES. 

Yet  at  times  they  shift 
Their  habitations,  when  the  hand  of  pride. 
Restraint,  or  southern  luxury,  disturbs 
Their  industry,  and  urges  them  to  vales 
Of  tho  Brigantes  j  =  where,  with  happier  care 
Inspirited,  their  art  improves  the  fleece. 
Which  occupation  orst,  and  wealth  immense. 
Gave  Brabant's  swarming  habitants,  what  time 
We  were  their  shepherds  only  ;   from  which  state 
With  friendly  arm  they  raised  us  :  nathless  some 
Among  our  old  and  stubborn  swains  misdeemed 
And  envied  who  enriched  them  ;  envied  those 
Whose  virtues  taught  the  varletry  of  towns 
To  useful  toil  to  turn  the  pilfering  hand. 


BRITAIN  TBE  REFCGE  OF 

And  still,  when  Bigotry's  black  clouds  orise 
(For  oft  they  sudden  rise  in  papal  realms). 
They  from  their  isle,  as  from  some  ark  secure, 
Careless,  unpitying,  view  the  fiery  bolts 
Of  superstition  and  tyronnie  rage. 
And  all  tho  fury  of  the  rolling  storm. 
Which  fierce  pursues  the  suflcrers  in  their  flight. 
Shall  not  our  gates,  shall  not  Britannia's  arms, 
Spread  ever  open  to  receive  their  flight? 
A  virtuous  people,  by  distresses  oft 
(Distresses  for  the  sake  of  truth  endured) 
Corrected,  dignified  ;  creating  good 
Wherever  they  inhabit :  this  our  isle 
Has  oft  experienced  ;  witness  all  ye  realms. 
Of  either  hemisphere  where  commerce  flows  : 


1  3  Flandria, Flanders; 
nida  ;  ^gyptns,  Egypt ;  NIlua, 
Norvicum,  Norwich ;  Colceslrla,  Colchester ;  Anlona,  Uio 
Avon  ;  Clausentum,  Svuthunpuin  0)  i  Vccla,  the  Isle  of 
Wight ;  Sabrlna,  Severn  ;  Silurian  Taoie,  Ihc  Tend,  which 
runs  by  Ludlow  i  Vlgornia,  Worcester  -,  Vaga,  the  Wye  •, 
note,  p.  379;    " 


rigantts,  people  of  Yorkshire. 


RURAL    POETRY. DYER. 


Th'  important  truth  is  stamped  on  every  bale  ; 
Eacli  glossy  cloth,  and  drape  of  mantle  warm, 
Receives  th'  impression  ;  every  airy  woof, 
Cheyney,  and  baize,  and  serge,  and  alepine. 
Tammy,  and  crape,  and  the  long  countless  list 
Of  woollen  webs  ;  and  every  work  of  steel  ; 
And  that  crystalline  metal,  blown  or  fused. 
Limpid  as  water  dropping  from  the  clefts 
Of  mossy  marble  :  not  to  name  the  aids 
Their  wit  has  given  the  fleece,  now  taught  to  link 
With  flax,  or  cotton,  or  the  silk-worm's  thread. 
And  gain  the  graces  of  variety  ; 
Whether  to  form  the  matron's  decent  robe. 
Or  the  thin-shading  trail  for  Agra's '  nymphs  ; 
Or  solemn  curtains,  whose  long  gloomy  folds 
Surround  the  soft  pavilions  of  the  rich. 

THE  AftRAS  ;   BLENHEIM   TAPESTRIES RAMILLIES,  ARLEUS. 

They,  too,  the  many-colored  Arras  taught 
To  mimic  nature,  and  the  airy  shapes 
Of  sportive  fancy  ;  such  as  oft  appear 
In  old  mosaic  pavements,  when  the  plough 
Upturns  the  crumbling  glebe  of  Weldon  field, 
Or  that  o'ershaded  erst  by  Woodstock's  bower. 
Now  graced  by  Blenheim,  in  whose  stately  rooms 
Rise  glowing  tapestries  that  lure  the  eye 
With  Marlborough's  wars  :  here  Schellenberg  exults 
Behind  surrounding  hills  of  ramparts  steep, 
And  vales  of  trenches  dark  ;  each  hideous  pass 
Armies  defend  ;  yet  on  the  hero  leads 
His  Britons,  like  a  torrent,  o'er  the  mounds. 
Another  scene  is  Blenheim's  glorious  field. 
And  the  red  Danube.     Here,  the  rescued  states 
Crowding  beneath  his  shield  ;   there,  Ramillios' 
Important  battle  :  next  the  ten-fold  chain 
Of  Arleux  burst,  and  the  adamantine  gates 
Of  Gaul  flung  open  to  the  tyrant's  throne. 
A  shade  obscures  the  rest  — Ah  !  then,  what  power 
Invidious  from  the  lifted  sickle  snatched 
The  harvest  of  the  plain  ?     So  lively  glows 
The  fair  delusion,  that  our  passions  rise 
In  the  beholding,  and  the  glories  share 
Of  visionary  battle. 

mSTORT  OF  THE  ART  ,   VARIOUS  CHEF-D'(EUVRES   OF  DIFFEB- 


This  bright  art 
Did  zealous  Europe  learn  of  pagan  hands, 
While  she  assayed,  with  rage  of  holy  war. 
To  desolate  their  fields  :  but  old  the  skill  ; 
Long  were  the  Phrygians'  picturing  looms  renowned ; 
Tyre  also,  wealthy  seat  of  arts,  excelled, 
And  elder  Sidon,  in  th'  historic  web. 

Far -distant  Tibet  in  her  gloomy  woods 
Rears  the  gay  tent,  of  blended  wool  unwoven, 
And  glutinous  materials  :  the  Chinese 


■  There  is  woven  at  Manchester,  for  the  East  Indies 
very  thin  stuff,  of  thread  and  cotton,  whicli  is  cooler  th'a 
the  manufactures  of  that  country,  where  the  material  is  onl 


Their  porcelain,  Japan  its  varnish  boasts. 

Some  fair  peculiar  graces  every  realm. 

And  each  from  each  a  share  of  wealth  acquires. 

NATIONAL  WEALTH  FROM    NUMBERS  }     IMMIGRATION  J     HOSPI- 
TALITY  A   SOCRCE   OF   NATIONAL   POWER. 

But  chief  by  numbers  of  industrious  hands 
A  nation's  wealth  is  counted  :  numbers  raise 
Warm  emulation  :  where  that  virtue  dwells 
There  will  be  Traffic's  seat ;  there  will  she  build 
Her  rich  emporium.     Hence,  ye  happy  swains  ! 
With  hospitality  inflame  your  breast. 
And  emulation  :  the  whole  world  receive, 
And  with  their  arts,  their  virtues,  deck  your  isle. 

EMPLOYMENTS  FOR  ALIENS  ;  DRAINAGE,  CANALS,  NAVIGATION, 
FISHERIES.— BELGIUM. 

Each  clime,  each  sea,  the  spacious  orb  of  each, 
Shall  join  their  various  stores,  and  amply  feed 
The  mighty  brotherhood  ;  while  ye  proceed. 
Active  and  enterprising,  or  to  teach 
The  stream  a  naval  course,  or  till  the  wild. 
Or  drain  the  fen,  or  stretch  the  long  canal. 
Or  plough  the  fertile  billows  of  the  deep  : 
Why  to  the  narrow  circle  of  our  coast 
Should  we  submit  our  limits,  while  each  wind 
Assists  the  stream  and  sail,  and  the  wide  main 
Woos  us  in  every  port  ?     See  Belgium  build 
Upon  the  foodful  brine  her  envied  power, 
And,  half  her  people  floating  on  the  wave, 
Expand  her  fishy  regions  :  thus  our  isle. 

Thus  only  may  Britannia  be  enlarged. 

But  whither,  by  the  visions  of  the  theme 
Smit  with  sublime  delight,  but  whither  strays 
The  raptured  Muse,  forgetful  of  her  task  ? 

MANDFACTCRING  mOHWATS  AND  BYWAYS  OF  COMMERCE  IN 
BRITAIN  ;  WATLISG-STREET  ;  THE  TYNE,  TEES,  WEAEE, 
LONE,  SWALE,   AIRE,   KEN,  WICK,  DART,   EXE,   TOWY,    CSK. 

No  common  pleasure  warms  the  generous  mind 
When  it  beholds  the  labors  of  the  loom  : 
How  widely  round  the  globe  they  are  dispersed. 
From  little  tenements  by  wood  or  croft. 
Through  many  a  slender  path,  how  sedulous. 
As  rills  to  rivers  broad,  they  speed  their  way 
To  public  roads,  to  Fosse,  or  Watling-street, 
Or  Armine,  ancient  works  ;  and  thence  explore. 
Through  every  navigable  wave,  the  sea  [Tees, 

That  laps  the  green  earth  round  :  through  Tyne  and 
Through  Weare  and  Lune,  and  merchandising  Hull, 
And  Swale,  and  Aire,  whose  crystal  waves  reflect 
The  various  colors  of  the  tinctured  web  ; 
Through  Ken,  swift  rolling  down  his  rocky  dale. 
Like  giddy  youth  impetuous,  then  at  Wick 
Curbing  his  train,  and  with  the  sober  pace 
Of  cautious  eld  meandering  to  the  deep  ;         [wave 
Through  Dart  and  sullen  Exe,  whose  murmuring 
Envies  the  Dune  and  Rother,  who  have  won 
The  serge  and  kersie  to  their  blanching  streams  ; 
Through  Towy,  winding  under  Merlin's  towers, 
And  Usk,  that  frequent,  among  hoary  rocks. 
On  her  deep  waters  paints  the  impending  scene. 
Wild   torrents,    erags,    and  woods,    and    mountain 


WINTER  —  FEBRUARY. 


509 


SAT  BRITAIN;  SMALL  PONIES  OF  X. 
SKKR  AT  THK    LANGUKDOC  CANAL. 

The  northern  Cambrians,  an  industrious  tribo, 
Carry  their  labors  on  pigmean  steeds, 
Of  size  exceeding  not  Leicestrian  sheep, 
Yet  strong  and  sprightly  :  over  hill  and  dalo 
They  travel  unfatiguod,  and  lay  their  bales 
In  Salop's  streets,  beneath  whoso  lofty  walls 
Pearly  Sabrina  waits  theiu  with  her  barks. 
And  spreads  the  swelling  sheet.     For  nowhere  far 
From  some  transparent  river's  naval  course 
Arise  and  fall  our  various  hills  and  vales. 
Nowhere  far  distant  from  the  masted  wharf. 
We  need  not  vc.^  the  strong  laborious  hand 
With  toil  enormous,  as  th'  Egyptian  king. 
Who  joined  the  sable  waters  of  the  Nile 
From  Memphis'  towers  to  the  Erythra;an  gulf ; 
Or  as  the  monarch  of  enfeebled  Gaul, 
Whose  will  imperious  forced  an  hundred  streams 
Through  many  a  forest,  many  a  spacious  wild, 
To  stretch  their  scanty  trains  from  sea  to  sea. 
That  some  unprofitable  skiff  might  float 
Across  irriguous  dales  and  hollowed  rocks. 

;     TRENT,    SEVERN,    AND    TnAMES, 


Far  easier  pains  may  swell  our  gentler  floods. 
And  through  the  centre  of  the  isle  conduct 
To  naval  union.     Trent  and  Severn's  wave. 
By  plains  alono  disparted,  woo  to  join 
Majestic  Thamis.     With  their  silver  urns 
The  nimble-footed  Naiads  of  the  springs 
Await,  upon  the  dewy  lawu,  to  speed 


And  celebrate  the  union  ;  and  the  light  [side, 

Wood-nymphs,  and  those  who  o'er  the  grots  pro- 
Whose  stores  bituminous,  with  sparkling  lires, 
In  summer's  tedious  absence,  cheer  the  swains. 
Long  sitting  at  the  loom  ;  and  those  besides. 
Who  crown  with  yellow  sheaves  the  former's  hopes, 
And  all  the  genii  of  commercial  toil  : 
These  on  the  dewy  lawns  await  to  speed 
And  celebrate  the  union,  that  the  fleece 
And  glossy  web  to  every  port  around 
May  lightly  glide  along. 

RITKR  NAVIOATION  ;    LONDON  TUB  WORLD'S    MART    FOR    TUE 

Even  now  behold 
Adown  a  thousand  floods  the  burdened  bark.''. 
With  white  sails  glistening,  through  the  gloomy 

Haste  to  their  harbors.     See  the  silver  maze 
Of  stately  Thamis,  ever  checkered  o'er 
With  tlceply-laden  barges,  gliding  smooth 
And  constant  as  his  stream  :  in  growing  pomp, 
By  Neptune  still  attended,  slow  he  rolls 
To  great  Augusta's  mart,  where  lofty  Trade, 
Amid  a  thousand  gulden  spires  enthroned. 
Gives  audience  to  the  world  ;  the  strand  around 
Close  swarms  with  busy  crowds  of  many  a  realm. 
What  bales,    what   wealth,    what   industry,    what 

flcota  ! 
Lo,  from  the  simple  fleece  how  much  proceeds  ! 


ural  §^t  aiil)  J^^'^^^P^i'^i^  ^"^^  ^tkuarr 


GREENE'S  "SHEPHERD  AND  HIS  WIFE.' 
It  was  near  a  thicky  shade, 
That  broad  leaves  of  beech  had  made, 
Joining  all  their  tops  so  nigh, 
That  scarce  Phoebus  in  could  pry  ; 
Where  sat  the  swain  and  his  wife, 
Sporting  in  that  pleasing  life. 
That  Corydon  commendeth  so, 
All  other  lives  to  over-go. 
He  and  she  did  sit  and  keep 
Flocks  of  kids  and  flocks  of  sheep  : 
He  upon  his  pipe  did  play. 
She  tuned  voice  unto  his  lay. 
And  for  you  might  her  housewife  know. 
Voice  did  sing  and  fingers  sew. 
He  was  young,  his  coat  was  green. 
With  welts  of  white  seamed  between. 
Turned  over  with  a  flap. 
That  breast  and  bosom  in  did  wrap, 
Skirts  side  and  plighted  free. 
Seemly  hanging  to  his  knee, 
A  whittle  with  a  silver  chape  ; 
Cloak  was  russet,  and  the  cape 
Served  for  a  bonnet  oft. 
To  shroud  him  from  the  wet  aloft  : 
A  leather  scrip  of  color  red, 
With  a  button  on  the  head  ; 
A  bottle  full  of  country  whig, 
By  the  shepherd's  side  did  lig  ; 
And  in  a  little  bush  hard  by. 
There  the  shepherd's  dog  did  lie, 
Who,  while  his  master  'gan  to  sleep. 
Well  could  watch  both  kids  and  sheep. 
The  shepherd  was  a  frolic  swain. 
For  though  his  'parel  was  but  plain. 
Yet  doon  the  authors  soothly  say, 
His  color  was  both  fresh  and  gay  ; 
And  in  their  writs  plainly  discuss, 
Fairer  was  not  Tityrus, 
Nor  Menalcas,  whom  they  call 
The  alderleefest  swain  of  all ! 
Seeming  him  was  his  wife, 
Both  in  line  and  in  life. 
Fair  she  was,  as  fair  might  be. 
Like  the  roses  on  the  tree  ; 
Buxom,  blithe,  and  yuung,  I  ween, 
Beauteous,  like  a  summer's  queen  ; 
For  her  cheeks  wore  ruddy  hued. 
As  if  lilies  were  imbued 
With  drops  of  bloud,  to  make  the  white 
Please  the  eye  with  more  delight. 
Love  did  lie  within  her  oyea. 


In  ambush  for  some  wanton  prize  ; 
A  leefer  lass  than  this  had  been, 
Corydon  had  never  seen. 
Nor  was  Phillis,  that  fair  May, 
Half  so  gaudy  or  so  gay. 
She  wore  a  chaplet  on  her  head  ; 
Her  cassock  was  of  scarlet  red. 
Long  and  large,  as  straight  as  bent  ; 
Her  middle  was  both  small  and  gent. 
A  neck  as  white  as  whales'  bone, 
Compact  with  a  lace  of  stone  ; 
Fine  she  was,  and  fair  she  was. 
Brighter  than  the  brightest  gloss  ; 
Such  a  shepherd's  wife  was  she. 
Was  not  more  in  Thessaly. 


MILTON'S  "GARDEN  OF  EDEN." 

*  *  Eden,  when  delicious  Paradise, 
Now  nearer,  crowns  with  her  enclosure  green. 
As  with  a  rural  mound,  the  champaign  head 
Of  a  steep  wilderness,  whose  hairy  sides 
With  thicket  overgrown,  grotesque  and  wild. 
Access  denied  ;  and  overhead  up-grew 
Insuperable  height  of  loftiest  shade. 
Cedar,  and  pine,  and  fir,  and  branching  palm, 
A  sylvan  scene,  and,  as  the  ranks  ascend. 
Shade  above  shade,  a  woody  theatre 
Of  stateliest  view.     Yet  higher  than  their  tops 
The  verd'rous  wall  of  Paradise  up-sprung  : 
Which  to  our  general  sire  gave  prospect  large 
Into  his  nether  empire  neighb'ring  round. 
And  higher  than  that  wall  a  circling  row 
Of  goodliest  trees,  Iciaden  with  fairest  fruit. 
Blossoms  and  fruits  at  once  of  golden  hue 
Appeared,  with  gay  enamelled  colors  mixed. 
Of  which  the  sun  more  glad  impressed  his  beams 
That  in  fair  evening  cloud,  or  humid  bow, 
When  God  hath  showered  the  earth,  so  lovely  seemed 
That  landscape  ;  and  of  pure,  now  purer  air 
I  Meets  his  approach,  and  to  the  heart  inspires 
Vernal  delight  and  joy,  able  to  drive 
All  sadness  but  despair  ;  now  gentle  gales. 
Fanning  their  odoriferous  wings,  dispense 
Native  perfumes,  and  whisper  whence  they  stole 
Those  balmy  spoils  :  as  when  to  them  who  sail 
Beyond  the  Cape  of  Hope,  and  now  are  past 
Mosambic,  off  at  sea  north-west  winds  blow 
Sabean  odors  from  the  spicy  shore 
Of  Araby  the  blest ;  with  such  delay  [league. 

Well  pleased  they  slack  their  course,  and  many  a 
Cheered  with  the  grateful  smell,  old  Ocean  smiles. 


^^dcustonc's    '\^rl)oolinistrcss/' 


THE   "SOHOOLinSTRESS." 

Ah,  me  !  full  sorely  is  my  heart  forlorn, 

To  think  how  modest  worth  neglected  lies  ; 
■VVhilo  partial  fame  doth  with  her  blasts  adorn 

Such  deeds  alone  as  pride  and  pomp  disguise  ; 
Deeds  of  ill  sort  and  mischievous  emprise  ; 

Lend  mo  thy  clarion,  goddess  !  let  me  try 

To  sound  the  praise  of  merit  ere  it  dies  ; 

Such  as  I  oft  have  chanced  to  espy, 

Lost  in  the  dreary  shades  of  dull  obscurity. 

In  every  village  marked  with  little  spire, 

Embowered  in  trees,  and  hardly  known  to  fame, 
There  dwells,  in  lowly  shed  and  mean  attire, 

A  matron  old,  whom  we  Schoolmistress  name, 
Who  boasts  unruly  brats  with  birch  to  tame  ; 
They  grieven  sore,  in  piteous  durance  pent, 
Awed  by  the  power  of  this  relentless  dame. 
And  ofttimcs,  on  vagaries  idly  bent,       [shent. 
For  unkempt  hair,  or  task  unconned,  are  sorely 
And  all  in  sight  doth  rise  a  birchen  tree. 

Which  Learning  near  her  little  dome  didstowo, 
AVhilom  a  twig  of  small  regard  to  see. 

Though  now  so  wide  its  waving  branches  flow. 
And  work  the  simple  vassals  mickle  woe  ; 

For  not  a  wind  might  curl  the  leaves  that  blew, 
But  their  limbs  shuddered,  and  their  pulse  beat 
low ;  [grew, 

And  as  they  looked,  they  found  their  horror 
And  shaped  it  into  rods,  and  tingled  at  the  view. 
So  have  I  seen  (who  has  not,  may  conceive) 
A  lifeless  phantom  near  a  garden  placed  ; 
So  doth  it  wanton  birds  of  peace  bereave. 
Of  sport,  of  song,  of  pleasure,  of  repast ; 
They  start,  they   stare,  they  wheel,  they  look 
Sad  servitude !  such  comfortless  annoy   [aghast ; 
May  no  bold  Briton's  riper  age  e'er  tasto  ! 
Ne  superstition  clog  his  dance  of  joy, 
No  vision  empty,  vain,  his  native  bliss  destroy. 
Near  to  this  dome  is  found  a  patch  so  green, 

On  which  the  tribe  their  gambols  do  display  ; 
And  at  the  door  imprisoning-board  is  seen. 

Lest  weakly  wights  of  smaller  size  should  stray, 
Eager,  perdie,  to  bask  in  sunny  day  ! 

The  noises  intermixed,  which  thence  resound, 
Do  Learning's  little  tenement  betray  ; 

Whore  sits  the  dame,  disguised  in  look  profound. 

And  eyes  her  fairy  throng,  and  turns  her  wheel 

Her  cap,  far  whiter  than  the  driven  snow,  [around. 

Emblem  right  meet,  of  decency  does  yield  ; 
Her  apron,  dyed  in  grain,  is  blue,  I  trowe, 
As  is  the  hare-bell  that  adorns  the  field  ; 


And  in  her  hand,  for  sceptre,  she  docs  wield 

Tway  birchen  sprays,  with  anxious  fears  on- 
twined. 
With  dark  distrust,  and  sad  repentance  filled, 

And  steadfast  hate,  and  sharp  affliction  j<iinod, 
And  fury  uncontrolled,  and  chastisement  unkind. 
Few  but  have  kon'd,  in  semblance  meet  portrayed. 

The  childish  faces  of  old  Eol's  train  ; 
Libs,  Notus,  Austcr  ;  these  in  frowns  arrayed. 

How  then  would  fare  on  earth,  or  sky,  or  main. 
Were  the  stern  god  to  give  his  slaves  the  rein  ? 

And  were  not  she  rebellious  breasts  to  quell. 
And  were  not  she  her  statutes  to  maintain, 

The  cot  no  more,  1  ween,  were  deemed  the  coll, 
Where  comely  peace  of  mind  and  decent  order  dwell. 
A  russet  stole  was  o'er  her  shoulders  thrown  ; 

A  russet  kirtle  fenced  the  nipping  air  ; 
'T  was  simple  russet,  but  it  was  her  own  ; 

'T  was  her  own  country  bred  the  flock  so  fair  ; 
'T  was  her  own  labor  did  the  fleece  prepare  ; 

And,  sooth  to  say,  her  pupils,  ranged  around, 
Through  pious  awe  did  term  it  passing  rare  ; 

For  they  in  gaping  wonderment  abound. 
And  think,  no  doubt,  she  been  the  greatest  wight  on 
Albeit  ne  flattery  did  corrupt  the  truth,  [ground! 

Ne  pompous  title  did  debauch  her  car  ; 
Goody,  good-woman,  n'aunt,  forsooth. 

Or  dame,  the  solo  additions  she  did  bear  ; 
Yet  these  she  challenged,  these  she  held  right  dear; 

Ne  would  esteem  him  act  as  mought  behove, 
AVho  should  not  honored  eld  with  these  revere  ; 

For  never  title  yet  so  mean  could  prove. 
But  there  was  eke  a  mind  that  did  that  title  love. 
One  ancient  hen  she  took  delight  to  feed. 

The  plodding  pattern  of  the  busy  dame  ; 
Which,  ever  and  anon,  impelled  by  need, 

Into  her  school,  begirt  with  chickens,  come  ! 
Such  favor  did  her  past  deportment  claim  ; 

And  if  neglect  had  lavished  on  the  ground 
Fragment  of  bread,  she  would  collect  the  same. 

For  well  she  knew,  and  quaintly  could  expound. 

What  sin  it  were  to  waste  the  smallest  crumb  she 

found.  [speak. 

Herbs,  too,  she  knew,  and  well  of  each  could 

That  in  her  garden  sipped  the  silvery  dew  ; 
Where  no  vain  flower  disclosed  a  gaudy  streak  ; 

But  herbs  for  use  and  physic  not  a  few. 
Of  gray  renown,  within  those  borders  grew  ; 

The  tufted  basil,  pun-provoking  thyme, 
Fresh  baum,  and  marygold  of  cheerful  hue  ; 

The  lowly  gill,  that  never  dares  to  climb  ; 
And  more  I  fain  would  sing,  disdaining  here  (o  rhyme. 


512 


RURAL    POETRY.  —  SHENSTONB. 


Yet  euphrasy  may  not  be  left  unsung, 

That  gives  dim  eyes  to  wander  leagues  around, 
And  pungent  radish,  biting  infant's  tongue  ; 

And  plantain  ribbed,  that  heals  the  reaper's 
wound  ; 
And  marjoram  sweet,  in  shepherd's  posy  found  ; 

And  lavender,  whose  spikes  of  azure  bloom 
Shall  be  erewhile  in  arid  bundles  bound. 

To  lurk  amid  the  labors  of  her  loom,       [fume. 

And  crown  her  kerchiefs  clean  with  mickle  rare  per- 

And  here  trim  rosemarine,  that  whilom  crowned 

The  daintiest  garden  of  the  proudest  peer, 
Ere,  driven  from  its  envied  site,  it  found 

A  sacred  shelter  for  its  branches  here  ;     [pear. 
Where  edged  with  gold  its  glittering  skirts  ap- 

0,  wassail  days  !  0,  customs  meet  and  well ! 
Ere  this  was  banished  from  its  lofty  sphere  ; 

Simplicity  then  sought  this  humble  cell. 
Nor  ever  would  she  more  with  thane  and  lordling 
dwell. 
Here  oft  the  dame,  on  Sabbath's  decent  eve. 

Hymned  such  psalms  as  Sternhold  forth  did 
mete  : 
If  winter  't  were,  she  to  her  hearth  did  cleave. 

But  in  her  garden  found  a  summer  seat ; 
Sweet  melody  !  to  hear  her  then  repeat 

How  Israel's  sons,  beneath  a  foreign  king. 
While  taunting  foemen  did  a  song  entreat. 

All  for  the  nonce,  untuning  every  string, 
Uphung  their  useless  lyres  —  small  heart  had  they 

For  she  was  just,  and  friend  to  virtuous  lore. 

And  passed  much  time  in  truly  virtuous  deed  ; 
And  in  those  elfin  ears  would  oft  deplore 

The  times  when  Truth  by  Popish  rage  did  bleed, 
And  torturous  Death  was  true  Devotion's  meed  ; 

And  simple  Faith  in  iron  chains  did  mourn, 
That  nould  on  wooden  image  place  her  creed  ; 

And  lawny  saints  in  smouldering  flames  did 
burn  ;  [return  ! 

Ah,  dearest  Lord,  forefend  thilk  days  should  o'er 
In  elbow-chair,  like  that  of  Scottish  stem 

By  the  sharp  tooth  of  cankering  eld  defaced, 
In  which,  when  he  receives  his  diadem. 

Our  sovereign  prince  and  liefest  liege  is  placed, 
The  matron  sate,  and  some  with  rank  she  graced 

(The   source   of    children's    and   of    courtier's 
pride  !), 
Redressed  affronts,  for  vile  affronts  there  passed  ; 

And  warned  them  not  the  fretful  to  deride. 
But  love  each  other  dear,  whatever  them  betide. 
Right  well  she  knew  eaeh  temper  to  descry  ; 

To  thwart  the  proud,  and  the  submiss  to  raise ; 
Some  with  vile  copper-prize  exalt  on  high, 

And  some  entice  with  pittance  small  of  praise ; 
And  other  some  with  baleful  sprig  she  frays  ; 

E'en  absent,  she  the  reins  of  power  doth  hold, 
While  with  quaint  arts  the  giddy  crowd  she  sways; 

Forewarned  if  little  bird  their  pranks  behold, 
Twill  whisper  in  her  car,  and  all  the  scene  unfold. 


Lo  !  now  with  state  she  utters  the  command  ; 

Eftsoons  the  urchins  to  their  tasks  repair  ; 
Their  books  of  stature  small  they  take  in  hand. 

Which  with  pellucid  horn  secured  are. 
To  save  from  fingers  wet  the  letters  fair  ; 

The  ^\iirl;  .-o  ^::iy.  Hi;if  on  their  back  is  seen, 
St.  Go.,,-,  ■-  !,1,.| I,i. vments  doth  declare  ; 

On  ^vlii'li  lliilk  \\i-lit.  that  has  y-gaziug  been, 

Kens  the  fulli, lin^  md  —  unpleasing  sight,  Iween! 

Ah  !  luckless  he,  and  born  beneath  the  beam 

Of  evil  star  !  it  irks  me  while  I  write  ; 
As  erst  the  bard  by  Mulla's  silver  stream. 

Oft  as  he  told  of  deadly,  dolorous  plight, 
Sighed  as  he  sung,  and  did  in  tears  indite. 

For,  brandishing  the  rod,  she  doth  begin 
To  loose  the  brogues,  the  stripling's  late  delight ! 

And  down  they  drop  ;  appears  his  dainty  skin. 
Fair  as  the  furry  coat  of  whitest  ermilin. 

0,  ruthful  scene  !  when,  from  a  nook  obscure. 

His  little  sistfr.lnil,  l,i,-  pviil  >l-c  ; 
All  playful  !Ui  f\ir  miIiv  -Ih'  -imu,-  .lumurc  ; 


Shel 


full 


She  meditates  a  player  to  ttt  him  free  ; 

Nor  gentle  pardon  could  this  dame  deny 
(If  gentle  pardon  could  with  dames  agree) 

To  her  sad  grief,  which  swells  in  either  eye, 
And  wrings  her  so  that  all  for  pity  she  could  die. 
No  longer  can  she  now  her  shrieks  command, 

And  hardly  she  forbears,  through  awful  fear. 
To  rushen  forth,  and,  with  presumptuous  hand, 

To  stay  harsh  Justice  in  his  mid-career. 
On  thee  she  calls,  on  thee,  her  parent  dear 

(Ah  !  too  remote  to  ward  the  shameful  blow!); 
She  sees  no  kind  domestic  visage  near. 

And  soon  a  flood  of  tears  begins  to  flow, 
And  gives  a  loose  at  last  to  unavailing  woe. 

But,  ah  !  what  pen  his  piteous  plight  may  trace  ? 

Or  what  device  his  loud  laments  explain  ? 
The  form  uncouth  of  his  disguised  face  ? 

The  pallid  hue  that  dyes  his  looks  amain  ? 
The  plenteous  shower  that  does  his  cheek  distain  ? 

When  he  in  abject  wise  implores  the  dame, 
Ne  hopeth  aught  of  sweet  reprieve  to  gain  ; 

Or  when  from  high  she  levels  well  her  aim. 
And  through  the  thatch  his  cries  each  falling  stroke 
proclaim. 
The  other  tribe,  aghast,  with  sore  dismay. 

Attend,  and  con  their  tasks  with  mickle  care  ; 
By  turns,  astonied,  every  twig  survey. 

And  from  their  fellow's  hateful  wounds  beware. 
Knowing,  I  wis,  how  each  the  same  may  share  ; 

Till  fear  has  taught  them  a  performance  meet, 
And  to  the  well-known  chest  the  dame  repair. 

Whence  oft  with  sugared  cates  she  doth  them 

And  gingerbread  y-rare  ;  now,  certes,  doubly  sweet. 
See  to  their  seats  they  hie  with  merry  glee, 

And  in  beseemly  order  sitten  there  ; 
All  but  the  wight  of  flesh  y-galled  ;  he       [chair 
Abhorreth  bench,  and  stool,  and  fourm,  and 


WINTER  —  FEBRUARY. 


513 


(This  hand  in  mouth  y-fixod,  that  romls  his  hair) ; 

And  oko  with   snubs  profound,  and  heaving 
Convulsions  intermitting,  doth  declare      [breast, 

His  grievous  wrong,  his  dame's  unjust  behest ; 
And  scorns  her  ofTored  love,  and  shuns  tu  bo  caressed. 
Uis  face  besprent  with  liquid  crystal  shines. 

His  blooming  face,  that  seems  a  purple  flower, 
AVhich  low  to  earth  it^  drooping  head  declines, 

All  smeared  ond  sullied  by  a  vernal  shower. 
0,  the  hard  bosoms  of  despotic  Power  ! 

All,  all  but  she,  the  author  of  his  shame, 
All,  all  but  she,  regret  this  mournful  hour  ; 

Yet  hence  the  youth,  and  hence  the  flower,  shall 

If  so  I  deem  aright,  transcending  worth  and  fame. 
But  now  Dan  Phtcbus  gains  the  middle  sky, 

And  liberty  unbars  her  prison  door  ; 
And  like  o  rushing  torrent  out  they  fly  ; 

And  now  the  grossy  cirque  han  covered  o'er 
With  boisterous  revel  rout  and  wild  uproar  ; 

A  thousand  ways  in  wanton  rings  they  run. 
Heaven  shield  their  short-lived  pastimes,  I  im- 

Forwell  mayfreodom,erst  so  dearly  won,  [plorej 
Appear  to  British  elf  more  gladsome  than  the  sun. 
Enjoy,  poor  imps  !  enjoy  your  sportive  trade, 

And  chase  gay  flies,  and  cull  the  fairest  flowers; 
For  when  my  bones  in  grass-green  sods  are  laid, 

0,  never  m.ay  ye  ta^te  more  careless  hours 
In  knightly  castle  or  in  ladies'  bowers. 

0,  vain  to  seek  delight  in  earthly  thing  ! 
But  most  in  courts,  where  proud  ambition  towers; 

Deluded  wight!  who  weens  fair  peace  can  spring 
Beneath  the  pompous  dome  of  kcsar  or  of  king. 
See  in  each  sprite  some  various  bent  appear  ! 

These  rudely  carol  most  incondite  lay  ; 
Those,  sauntering  on  the  green  with  jocund  leer, 

Salute  the  stranger  passing  on  bis  way  ; 


Some  builden  fragile  tenements  of  clay  ; 

Some  to  the  standing  lake  their  courses  bend, 
With  pebbles  smooth  at  duck  and  drake  to  play  ; 

Thilk  to  the  huckster's  savory  cottage  tend. 
In  pastry  kings  and  queens  the  allotted  mite  to  spend. 
Here  as  each  season  yields  a  diflTorcnt  store. 

Each  season's  stores  in  order  ranged  been  ; 
Apples  with  cabbage-net  y-covercd  o'er. 

Galling  full  sore  the  unmonoyod  wight,  ore  seen, 
And  goosebrie  clad  in  livery  red  or  green  ; 

And  hero,  of  lovely  dye,  the  Catharine  pear, 
Fine  pear,  as  lovely  for  thy  juice,  I  ween  ; 

0,  may  no  wight  o'er  penniless  come  there, 
Lest,  smit  with  ardent  love,  he  pine  with  hopeless 

See,  cherries  hero,  ere  cherries  yet  abound, 

With  threaxl  so  white  in  tempting  posies  tied, 
Scattering,    like   blooming  maid,   their  glanoes 

With  pampered  look  draw  little  eyes  aside  — 
And  must  bo  bought,  though  penury  betide  ; 

The  plum  all  azure,  and  the  nut  all  brown  ; 
And  hero  each  season  do  those  cakes  abide. 
Whose  honored  names'  the  inventive  city  own. 
Rendering  through  Britain's  isle  Salopia's «  praises 
known. 
Admired  Salopia  !  that  in  venial  pride 

Eyes  her  bright  form  in  Severn's  ambient  wave. 
Famed  for  her  loyal  cares  in  perils  tried. 

Her  daughters  lovely,  and  her  striplings  brave  : 
Ah  !  midst  the  rest,  may  flowers  adorn  his  grave 

AVhose  art  did  flrst  these  dulcet  cates  display. 
A  motive  fair  to  Learning's  imps  he  gave, 
Who  cheerless  o'er  her  darkling  region  stray  ; 
Till  Reason's  morn  arise,  and  light  them  on  their 
way. 


'  Shrewsbury  ( 


•  S.ilopia,  Shrewsbury. 


gallah 


for    ^[fdruaiM). 


LONGFELLOW'S  "VILLAGE  BLACKSmT^.' 

Under  a  spreading  chestnut-tree 

The  village  smithy  stands  ; 
The  smith,  a  mighty  man  is  he, 

With  large  and  sinewy  hands  ; 
And  the  muscles  of  his  brawny  anna 

Are  strong  as  iron  bands. 
His  hair  is  crisp,  and  black,  and  long, 

His  face  is  like  the  tan  ; 
His  brow  is  wet  with  honest  sweat, 

He  earns  whate'er  he  can, 
And  looks  the  whole  world  in  the  face. 

For  he  owes  not  any  man. 
Week  in,  week  out,  from  morn  till  night, 

You  can  hear  his  bellows  blow  ; 
You  can  hear  him  swing  his  heavy  sledge, 

With  measured  heat  and  slow. 
Like  a  sexton  ringing  the  village  bell, 

AYhen  the  evening  sun  is  low. 
And  children  coming  home  from  school 

Look  in  at  the  open  door  ; 
They  love  to  see  the  flaming  forge, 

And  hear  the  bellows  roar, 
And  catch  the  burning  sparks  that  fly 

Like  chaff  from  a  threshing  floor. 
He  goes  on  Sunday  to  the  church. 

And  sits  among  his  boys  ; 
He  hears  the  parson  pray  and  preach, 

He  hears  his  daughter's  voice 
Singing  in  the  village  choir, 

And  it  makes  his  heart  rejoice. 

It  sounds  to  him  like  her  mother's  voice, 

Singing  in  paradise  I 
He  needs  must  think  of  her  once  more. 


How  in  the  grave  she  lies  ; 
And,  with  his  hard,  rough  hand,  he  wipes 

A  tear  out  of  his  eyes. 
Thus  toiling,  rejoicing,  sorrowing. 

Onward  through  life  he  goes  ; 
Each  morning  sees  some  task  begun. 

Each  evening  sees  it  close  ; 
Something  attempted,  something  done, 

Has  earned  a  night's  repose. 
Thanks,  thanks  to  thee,  my  worthy  friend, 

For  the  lesson  thou  hast  taught  ! 
Thus  at  the  flaming  forge  of  life 

Our  fortunes  must  be  wrought  ; 
Thus  on  its  sounding  anvil  shaped 

Each  burning  deed  and  thought. 


MY  FATHER. 


Mv  good  father  died  at  the  age  of  four  score,  [o'er; 
Snow-white  were  the  locks  which  his  head  silvered 
His  age  as  the  Winter  passed  lusty  away,  [day. 

'T  was  frosty,  but  kind  ;  bright,  though  cold  was  the 
For  ne'er  in  his  youth  had  he  rashly  applied 
Hot  liquors  to  quicken  his  blood's  even  tide  ; 
Nor,  with  forehead  unbashful,  had  wooed,  to  his 
The  means  that  debilitate  man's  lusty  frame,  [shame, 
His  temper  was  mild  as  the  sun's  setting  beam. 
When  it  plays  on  the  top  of  some  soft-flowing  stream: 
Religion  to  him  was  the  balm  of  his  mind  ; 
To  his  Maker's  good  will  he  was  ever  resigned. 
With  a  numerous  offspring  encircled  around, 
At  length,  like  a  shock  of  ripe  corn,  to  the  ground 
He  came,  an  example  to  all  who  survive, — 
Who,  to  die  such  a  death,  such  a  life  must  they  live. 


CoiuluMiig  iijinit  of  |)raisi\ 


THOMSON'S  "HYMN  OF  THE  SEASONS.' 

These,  as  they  change,  Almighty  Father,  these 
Are  but  the  varied  God.     The  rolling  year 
Is  full  of  Thee.     Forth  in  the  pleasing  Spring 
Thy  beauty  walks,  thy  tenderness  and  love. 
Wide  flush  the  fields  ;  the  softening  air  is  balm  ; 
Echo  the  mountains  round  ;  the  forest  smiles  ; 
And  every  sense  and  every  heart  is  joy. 
Then  comes  thy  glory  in  the  Summer-months, 
With  light  and  heat  refulgent.     Then  thy  sun 


Shoots  full  perfection  through  the  swelling  year  ; 
And  oft  thy  voice  in  dreadful  thunder  speaks  ; 
And  oft  at  dawn,  deep  noon,  or  falling  eve, 
By  brooks  and  groves,  in  hollow-whispering  gales. 
Thy  bounty  shines  in  Autumn  unconfined. 
And  spreads  a  common  feast  for  all  that  lives. 
In  Winter  awful  Thou  !  with  clouds  and  storms 
Around  Thee  thrown,  tempest  o'er  tempest  rolled. 
Majestic  darkness  !  on  the  whirlwind's  wing 
Riding  sublime,  Thou  bidd'st  the  world  adore. 
And  humblest  Nature  with  thy  northern  blast. 


WINTER FEBRUARY. 


615 


Mysterious  round  !  what  skill,  what  force  diviuo, 
Doop  fult,  in  those  appear  !  a  simple  train, 
Yet  so  delightful  mixed,  with  such  kind  art, 
Such  beauty  and  benoficcnoe  combined. 
Shade,  unpercoivod,  so  softening  into  shade. 
And  all  so  forming  an  harmonious  whole. 
That,  as  they  still  succeed,  they  ravish  still. 
But  wandering  oft,  with  brute  unconscious  gaze, 
Man  marks  not  Thee,  marks  not  the  mighty  hand 
That,  over-busy,  wheels  the  silent  spheres  ; 
Works  in  the  secret  deep  ;  shoots,  steaming,  thence 
The  fair  profusion  that  o'orspreads  the  Spring  ; 
Flings  from  the  sun  direct  the  flaming  day  ; 
Feeds  every  creature  ;  hurls  the  tempest  forth  ; 
And,  as  on  earth  this  grateful  change  revolves. 
With  transport  touches  all  the  springs  of  life. 

Nature,  attend  !  join,  every  living  soul 
Beneath  tho  spacious  temple  of  the  sky, 
In  adoratiou  join  ;  and,  ardent,  raise 
One  general  song  !     To  Him,  ye  vocal  gales. 
Breathe  soft,  whoso  Spirit  in  your  freshness  breathes : 
0,  talk  of  Him  in  solitary  glooms  ! 
Where,  o'er  the  rock,  the  scarcely  waving  pine 
Fills  the  brown  shade  with  a  religious  awe. 
And  ye,  whose  bolder  note  is  heard  afar. 
Who  shake  the  astonished  world,  lift  high  to  heaven 
The  impetuous  song,  and  say  from  Whom  you  rage. 
His  praise,  ye  brooks,  attune,  ye  trembling  rills  ; 
And  let  mo  catch  it  as  I  muse  along. 
Y'e  headlong  torrents,  rapid  and  profound,  — 
Ye  softer  floods,  that  lead  the  humid  maze 
Along  the  vale,  —  and  thou,  majestic  main, 
A  secret  world  of  wonders  in  thyself,  — 
Sound  His  stupendous  praise  ;  whose  greater  voice 
Or  bids  you  roar,  or  bids  your  roarings  fall. 
Soft-roll  your  incense,  herbs,  and  fruits,  and  flowers, 
In  mingled  clouds  to  Him  ;  whoso  sun  exalts. 
Whose  breath  perfumes  you,  and  whose  pencil  paints. 
Ye  forests,  bend,  ye  harvests,  wave  to  Him  ; 
Breathe  your  still  song  into  tho  reaper's  heart. 
As  home  ho  goes  beneath  the  joyous  moon. 
Ye  that  keep  wotch  in  heaven,  as  earth  asleep 
Unconscious  lies,  effuse  your  mildest  beams. 
Ye  constellations,  while  your  angels  strike. 
Amid  the  spangled  sky,  the  silver  lyre. 
Great  source  of  day  !  best  imago  here  below 
Of  thy  Creator,  ever  pouring  wide. 
From  world  to  world,  the  vital  ocean  round, 
On  Nature  write  with  every  beam  His  praise. 


Tho  thunder  rolls  :  he  bushed  tho  prostrate  world  ; 

While  cloud  to  cloud  returns  tho  solemn  hymn. 

Bloat  out  afresh,  ye  hills  :  yo  mossy  rocks. 

Retain  the  sound  :  tho  brood  responsive  low. 

Ye  valleys,  raise  ;  for  tho  Great  Shepherd  reigns. 

And  his  unsufifering  kingdom  yet  will  come. 

\'o  woodlands  all,  awake  :  a  boundless  song 

Burst  from  tho  groves  !  and  when  the  restless  day. 

Expiring,  lays  the  warbling  world  asleep. 

Sweetest  of  birds,  sweet  Philomela,  charm 

The  listening  shades,  and  teach  the  night  His  praise. 

Y''e  chief,  for  whom  tho  whole  creation  smiles. 

At  once  the  head,  tho  heart,  and  tongue  of  all, 

Crown  the  great  hymn  !     In  swarming  cities  vast, 

Assembled  men,  to  tho  deep  organ  join 

The  long-resounding  voice,  oft  breaking  clear. 

At  solemn  pauses,  through  tho  s>velling  base  ; 

And,  as  each  mingling  flame  increases  each. 

In  one  united  ardor  rise  to  heaven. 

Or  if  you  rather  choose  tho  rural  shade. 

And  find  a  fane  in  every  sacred  grovo  ; 

There  let  the  shepherd's  flute,  the  virgin's  lay, 

Tho  prompting  soraph,  and  the  poet's  lyre. 

Still  sing  the  God  of  Seasons,  as  they  roll  ! 

For  me,  when  I  forget  the  darling  theme. 

Whether  the  blossom  blows,  the  Summer  ray 

Russets  the  plain,  inspiring  Autumn  gleams. 

Or  Winter  rises  in  tho  blackening  east  ; 

Be  my  tongue  mute,  may  Fancy  paint  no  more. 

And,  dead  to  joy,  forget  my  heart  to  beat ! 

Should  fate  command  me  to  the  farthest  verge 
Of  the  green  earth,  to  distant  barbarous  climes. 
Rivers  unknown  to  song  ;  where  first  the  sun 
Gilds  Indian  mountains,  or  his  setting  beam 
Flames  on  the  Atlantic  isles  ;  't  is  naught  to  mo  : 
Since  God  is  ever  present,  ever  felt. 
In  the  void  waste  as  in  the  city  full ; 
And  where  Ho  vital  breathes  there  must  be  joy. 
When  e'en  at  last  the  solemn  hour  shall  come. 
And  wing  my  mystic  flight  to  future  worlds, 
I  cheerful  will  obey  ;  there,  with  new  powers. 
Will  rising  wonders  sing  :  I  cannot  go 
Whore  Universal  Love  not  smiles  around. 
Sustaining  all  yon  orbs,  and  all  their  suns  ; 
From  seeming  Evil  still  educing  Good, 
And  better  thence  again,  and  bettor  still. 
In  infinite  progression.     But  I  lose 
Myself  in  Him,  in  Light  Inefiable  ! 
Como,  then,  expressive  Silence,  muse  His  praise. 


(lM  0  s  s  ;i  vij 

OF    UNUSUAL    WORDS.    CHIEFLY    SCOTCn. 


}  also  GlMsarics  pp.  186,  330,  388.] 


Altlis,  oaths. 
Agec,  awry. 


Auld,  old. 
A-wlll,  wiltul. 

Ay,  always. 


or  th.  ^  . 
Bannock,  '  '  ' 

Barlickhoo-i,  tit  rif  itl- 
Bassand,  wliitc-faced, 
Bauch. 


Busk,  dress,  prepare. 

Busline,  fustian,  clotll. 

Butt,  odd  angle. 

By,  for  it,  besides,  when,  without. 

By-and-attour,  moreover. 

Byre,  cow-house. 

Cadgy,  wanton,  cheerlUl. 

Cankered,  cross. 

Canlraips,  spells,  charms. 

Canty,  lively. 

Car,  sledge,  left. 

Carle,  man,  churl. 

Caul,  cool, 

Cauldr'ife,  causing  cold,  indifferent. 
Cawfs,  calves. 


Cliie 


nrp,  I 


Fashes,  trouble. 

Faulds,  folds. 

Fayned,  to  make  shin  ;  tempted. 

Fechting,  lighting. 

Feckless,  feeble. 

f  eg,  flg. 

Fell,  keen,  hot  ;  rock  ;  to  befall. 

Ferly,  wonder. 

Flaw,  lie. 

Fleech,  (lelch,  flatter. 

Fleeching,  flirtation,  Oatlery. 

Fleid,  flayed. 

Flet,  scolded  ;  a  home,  residence. 

Flyte,  go  off,  go  away. 

Flitting,  about  to  depart,  going. 

Fou,  full. 

Fouth,  abundance. 

Fowk,  I 


1,  unpleasant  to  taste. 
„,.„.„,  bold. 
Bawk,  roof,  cross-beam,  unplowed  ridge, 
Bawsint,  white-faced. 
Be,  by,  towards,  by  that  time. 
Bedeen,  quickly. 
Bc'kin-.  bn^kinir. 


Billy,  comrade,  c 
Birks,  birches. 
Birky,  lively  fell. 
Birns,  burdens. 
Bites,  sharpers. 


Frae,  from. 


,  cajoling 


Blate,  sheepish,  bashM. 
Bleezing,  blazing. 
Blob,  globule,  drop. 
Ili<bliit,  scoffed,  danced. 


llnmli:«.cil,  stupefied. 

Bouk,  trunk  of  the  body. 
Board,  jest. 

Bow,  herd,  fold  for  cows. 
Braes,  hill-sides. 
Brankan,  gay. 
Brattling,  clattering. 
Braw,  line,  gayly-dresscd. 
Breckens,  breaches. 
Bris'd,  pressed. 
Briz,  bruise. 
Brock,  fragments. 
Brue,  broth. 
Bught,  pen,  fold. 
Burn,  stream. 
Burnie,  rivulet,  rill. 


es,  crows,  ravens. 
Crack,  chat,  gossip,  boast 
Criiigy,  craggy. 
Crummock,  cow  with    a 

Cry,  call. 

Cunzie,  coin  (?). 

Curn,  kernel. 

Cut  and  dry,  tobacco  for  smokmg. 


Dead,  death. 
Dei'l,  devil. 
Diced,  sewed. 
Divot,  turf,  sod. 
Dit,  stop. 
Doill,  confused. 
Doof,  stupid. 
Dool,  dule,  grief,  sorrow. 
Dorty,  pettish,  saucy. 
Dosens,  stiliwfles. 
Dowie,  melancholy,  sad. 
Downa,  cannot. 
Drowth,  drought. 
Buddy,  ragged. 
Dyvour,  debtor. 
Ee,  eye,  een,  eyes. 
Bild,  eld,oldage. 

Bithly,  easily.  ,.    .  ,  ,      „,  ,  ., 

BIfshot,  cramp,  shot  by  fairies,  flint  ar- 

rowhead,  disease  sent  by  evil  spirits. 


Elwand.sUff,  yardstick,  45  Inches,  o: 

Inches,  which  Is  the  Scotch  yard. 
Ergh,  Irk,  dislike. 
Etlle,  attempt,  aim  at. 
Even,  equal,  bring  down  to  a  lerel  « 
Eync,  eyes. 


Oaw,  a  Ball-nut ;  furrow  for  drainage  ; 

a  holU.w  with  water. 
Oaws,  galls,  iK'comes  pettish. 
Gear,  wealth,  gomis,  possessions. 
Geek,  mock,  deride  ;  jilt  i  loss  the  head 


Oies,  gives. 

Oif,  if. 

Giglet,  giddy  girl. 

aiming,  grinning. 

Gloaming,  twilight. 

Olowring,  staring  menacingly. 

Gowans,  daisies. 

Gowd,  gold. 

Gowk,  fool. 

Graitli,  furniture,  gear. 

Qranes,  groans. 

Qree,  agree  -,  dye  •,  live  In  amity. 

Greet,  weep. 

Grien,  long  for. 

Gyte,  flood. 

Haffel,  side  of  hcail,  the  temples. 
Ilagabag,  huckabuck,  coarse  towelling, 

or  bagging. 
Haggles,  haggis,  a  dish  commonly  made 

in  a  sheep's  maw,  of  the  lungs,  hcMl, 

pepper,  and  salt, 
of  ottt-meal,  with 
last  articles,  without  meal.     In 
England  it  Is  a  sausage. 
Hag-raid,  harried,  hag-ridden. 
Hainder,  last, 
llairsi,  harvesl-llmc. 
Hald,  homestead. 
Halow,  a  saint. 
Haly,  wimlly  i  holy  i  iwrfecl. 


Falds,  folds. 


518 


Hawkie,  hawkey,  cow 
face,  or  white  spot 

Hechts,  calls 
commands. 


How,  a  hoe  ;  hood  ;  garland. 

Howdy,  midwife. 

Howm,  holm,  wooded  islet. 

Ilk,  appellation. 

Illia,  evei'y. 

In,  in  town,  in  the  city  of  Edinburgh. 

Ither,  other. 


-     -J,  abused. 
Mony,  many. 
Mools,  mould,  earth. 
Motty,  full  of  motes. 
Mows,  heaps  ;  mouths. 
Nae,  no. 

:t. 

- ,  .ow  that  has  newly  cal  ed 

Nieves,  hands,  fists. 
naught. 

Nowt,  black  cattle. 
Ony,  any. 
Or,  ere,  before. 
Orp,  fret. 
Owk,  week(»). 


ISlid,  smooth,  glib. 
Smoored,  smothered. 
Snood,  lillet,  headband. 
Soniy  lucky  l>)  easy  (?). 
ho  na     obtrud  Dg  on  bed  and  board  : 
sponger     sojourn. 


tede    fa  m-house  and    offices  ; 
Steek  the  gab    stay  the  speech,  stop 


it  eked,  stitched,  fixed. 


Kirk,  

Kirned,  churned. 

Kitted,  caught,  snared  as  with  bird 

Kittle,  enlivening  ;  tittlish. 

Knowe,  knoll,  hillock. 

Kye,  kine. 

Laird,  proprietor. 

Lane,  alone,  in  private. 

Lap,  leaped. 

Lave,  the  rest,  others. 

Lav'rock,  lark. 

Lee,  lonely. 

Leel,  leal,  loyal. 

Leglens,  milk-pails. 
Leugh, laughed. 
Lift,  sky. 

Lightlies,  makes  light  of. 
Lilt,  sing  cheerfully. 
Lin,  fall,  waterfall. 
Linliing,  tripping. 

loaning,  open  yard,  or  wide 
.,  -',  near  the  farm-house. 

Loofs,  praises  (?), 

Loss,  praise  (Latin,  laus). 

Loundering,  pounding. 

Lout,  bow,  obeisance. 

Low,  blaze. 

Lowan,  burning,  blazing. 

Lowp,  leap. 

Luckie,  lucky,  granny. 

Lug,  ear. 

Luggies,  vessels,  luggers. 

Lyart,  gray. 


Mail 


"urted  ;    reckoned  ; 


iiittmg  down  over. 


Ut' 


Meikle,  II 
Merle,  M: 
JliddinL'. 


I,  dunghill. 


(L  omul  etc    ii  liber, 


ABDomSTMra,  his  story  loW,  170,  171  ;  garden,  alUir, 
pniyiT,  171  i  crowned  by  Alexander  and  the  people,  173. 

AlxTk'inniy,  a  town  upon  the  Towy  river,  in  the  south  part 
or  Wiiles,  77. 

AWrtta,  fiiniily,  319. 

Ahnir  mid  Widow  .lones  :  a  ballad,  by  Bloomndd,  71—73. 

At>.Nlt.-s  i.f  .|ui.t  jiii.l  (.'''iianri-,  T') ;  -'f  vicious  poverty,  70, 


Absmlr-  i          1   ' 
AlMtin.  i. 

"""-'"' 

.."niged;434,  «6. 
,.l,.iY-,  413,414. 

ui:i,.\;ipl>.s. 

subject  to  river  inunda- 

Kiiii:  "f  Phlli!ol!s,Thessaly,  Greece, 

■'tv  of  the  chief  heroes 

of  the  Trojan  W:.r  ; 

t„r,theTr,.janh.,. 

,    i..,dyatthetailof 

hisclmriot.    }li».i 

based  the  action.. 1   1 

itlio  taking  of  Troy. 

Activity,  pernetuiil  n. 

Addison's  imilati..!! 

1 

He  distinRuislie.!  luu 

,i-;i  ,11  IK1..1. 

•.•'''''.  •';i.ei'°i'?.'?; 

Eijislk-  to  Lord  Halifax.  This 
diemed  the  most  elegant  and  animated  of  his  poetical  pro- 
ductions, specimens  of  which  are  seen  at  pp.  78, 134.  His 
greatest  distinction,  however,  is  as  an  essayist,  though  he 
married  '  discord  in  a  noble  wife,*  the  Countess  Dowager 
of  Warwicli,  1716,  and  in  1717  was  appointed  Secretary 
of  State.  He  wrote  essays  in  the  Tatier,  Spectator,  and 
Guardian  ;  and,  in  1713,  the  tragedy  of  Calo,  which  was 
brought  on  the  stage  with  *  unexampled  success.' 

Adieu  to  the  country,  31. 

Adultery,  80. 

Advent,  Christ's  Second,  signs  of,  484. 

Advice  of  a  good  West  India  planter  to  his  son,  423. 

iBgeria  and  Dolon,  an  episode,  276,  277. 

JEolia,  a  division  of  Asia  Minor,  on  the  west. 

iEsccLArics,  the  classic  god  of  medicine,  son  of  Apollo  -, 
generally  represented  as  leaning  on  a  club,  round  which 
is  wound  a  serpent.  He  was  one  of  the  Argonauts,  and 
is  also  called  Psean,  or  Pmon  ;  that  is,  *  the  physician.' 

Africa,  its  natural  features,  285 }  sands,  serpents,  whirl- 
winds, wild  beasts,  285,  286  :  genius  of  Africa  apostro- 
phized, 435. 

African,  the,  at  home,  437. 

After  a  Tempest :  an  ode,  by  Bryant,  205. 

Afternoon,  of  summer,  148. 

AiiAMKMSus,  King  of  the  Greeks,  86-,  called  Atrides,  as  being 
the  son  iif  Atrcus  )  —  his  good  cheer,  96.  He  was  brother 
of  Mcnelaus,  and  led  the  Greeks  to  the  taking  of  Troy. 
See  Helen. 

Aged  oak,  simile  of,  falling,  93. 

Age,  Golden,  or  of  Gold,  described,  6, 19  i  iU  music,  6  ;  Sil- 
ver age,  19  i  Brazen,  19  ;  Heroic,  19,  20  ;  Iron,  20. 

Age,  the  present  contrasted  with  the  Golden,  6. 

Age,  progress  from  youth  to,  203,  204  -,  fibres  stiffen,  204 ; 
—  meditations  of  God's  works  a  proper  theme  for,  360. 

Ages,  the  four  (or  five)  •  "  .      -    .   .. 

19,  20.    See  Age. 

Agricultural  plenty  described,  309  ;  — science,  its 
271  i  —  science  commended  to  the  wealthy,  58. 

Agriculture,  a  poem  in  three  cantos,  by  R.  Dodsley,  55 — 70. 

Agriculturist,  retired,  his  quiet,  hopeful  life,  273. 

Ague  personified,  48. 

AiKis,  Jonx,  M.D.,  chief  author  of  Evenings  at  Home,  ^d 
other  excellent  books  for  children.  He  was  brother  to 
Mrs.  Barbauld.    See  Barbauld. 

AiKi.N's  Wish  :  an  ode,  88. 

Aim,  the  best,  is  use,  83. 


esiod's  account  ( 


1,  60. 

Alcander  and  Ncrina,  a  story  exemplifying  reform  in  land- 
scape gardening,  178 — 183  -,  his  pntcrnal  estate,  Gothic 
mansion,  farm-house,  castellated  farm-yard.  Ice-house, 
dairy  in  abbey-form,  178-,  ocean  frith,  grotux,  178', 
shipwreck,  the  rescued  maiden,  178, 179 ;  his  unsucces^ 
ful  love,  179  ;  bower  of  Flora,  description  of  It,  conserva- 
tory and  hot-house,  179  ;  statue  of  Flora,  179, 180 ;  story 
of  Ncrina,  180  ;  poultry-yard,  dove-cote,  and  aviary,  180  \ 
visit  of  Cleon,  the  stranger,  and  his  survey,  181  ■,  Ncrina 
swoons,  and  dies,  182  j  explanation  between  Cleon  and 
Alcander,  182  ;  soliloquy,  time  the  soother,  tomb,  funeral 
cell,  angels,  183. 

Aldrich,  382. 

Alcoves,  for  West  India  gardens  j  granadiUas,  water-lemon  j 
fountains,  440,  441. 

Alehouse,  the  village,  by  Goldsmith,  37. 

Alexander  the  Great  and  Alxlolonymus,  of  Sidon,  171. 

Alienated  Homestead  :  an  ode,  by  T.  B.  Read,  416. 

All  ticsh  is  grass,  82. 

Allegory,  explaining  the  theory  of  vegetation,  58;  —  of 
,275,270. 


Aim- 


the,  0 


Isaac  Ashford,  the  noble 


.\1;  !.  ^I.irea,  which  ran  westward  through 

.'  ^  I  i:Us.     It  was  thought  to  pass  under 

til.  ■  1.  n,  t  ;  .  (u  ii.  light  again  in  the  copious  fresb- 
w.i-L.i  I. 111.1,1111  u  .Viutliusa,  in  the  harbor  of  Syracuse, 
wliii-h  risi's  in  (lit-  aiiU  water,and,  as  the  writer  can  testify, 

Altar,  Abdolonymus  at  the,  171 }  his  patriotic  prayer. 

AMiL™.Ea,  the  name  of  the  goat  that  suckled  Jupiter, 
while  the  bees  brought  honey  to  his  lips  ;  this  milk  ana 
honey,  corresponding  to  spiritual  good  and  truth,  became 
the  nectar  and  ambrosia  (extracts  of  milk  and  honey)  of 
a  later  age,  the  food  of  the  gods.    In  his  play  Jove  broke 

first  a  drinking-cup,  became  the  horn  of  plenty,  the  cor- 
nucopia, which  Jove  ails  with  blessings,  especially  through 
agriculture.  This  goat  and  kids,  Capella  and  lloedl,  ar« 
cimHli'llittions.    See  Anthon's  Classical  Dictionary,  which 


1,  l.y  Epicuriis,  94. 

7  ;  — village,  its  hopes  ami  fears, 

■  rural  pleasures  to  the  imtriotic 

i.htning,  147. 

liigos  of  the,  2W  ; 


America,  tropical,  14.1 ;  Orinoco,  Amazon,  Di  Plata,  143. 

American  Revolution,  the,  442. 

Amethyst,  137. 

Ammon's  son,  Alexander  the  Great. 

Amomum,  of  the  greenhouse,  85. 

AMpniTRrrs,  wife  of  Neptune,  the  classic  god  of  the  sea. 

She  was  the  daughter  of  Nereus,  and  mother  of  Triton. 
Amphryslan  shepherd,  Apollo,  who  fed  the  flocks  of  King 

Admetus,  on  the  banks  of  tlie  Amphrysus,  in  Thessaly. 
Amply-flowing  lines,  proper  In  landscape  gardening,  163. 


37  ;  —country,  264,  265  ;—  rustic,  270. 

Anacrron,  the  Greek  poet,  bom  at  Teos,  Ionia,  Asia  Minor, 
In  the  early  part  of  the  sixth  century,  B.  C.  He  went  to 
Samos,  and  then  to  Athens,  and  was  In  favor  with  Poly- 
crates  of  Samos,  ami  llipparchus  of  Athens.  He  was 
choked  to  death  by  a  grape-stone  at  the  age  of  eighty-five. 

AtlACRBON's  Grasshopper,  or  screech-locust,  262. 

Akacrron's  Spring  :  translated  from  the  Greek,  by  Thomu 


,102. 


520 


Andrew  Collet,  tale  of,  403. 

Anemone,  the  wind-flower,  marsh  gentian,  8. 

Anger,  dissuaded  from  by  Etiicnrus,  6-4; — its  effects  com- 
pared with  those  of  love,  envy,  fear,  grief,  rage,  joy,  455  ; 
to  some  a  fit  of  anger  useful,  455  ;  remedies  for,  455. 

Angels,  guardian,  ori-,'!!!  and  employment  of,  according  to 
Hesinil,  10  ;  —  miniga>ring,  183. 

Anrrlr'-  ,-  ,'.''  "l,>   JI.  \V.  L..ngfellow,  205,  206. 
Ai)L;ini  1      -         i>y  Dclille,  266-,    angling,  shoot- 

in-,  -     .  ^'i7  ;  angling,  by  Pope,  293  ;  — 

r.-- i    I  '■  ■         !'■■  -x'Tcise,  337  ;  Treat,  Eden, 


I  ■ !  ■' '  1 1 '  ■■  1 .  7  ;  —  puided  by  instinct, 

;  !■   -.  :-  .    -■     <';ii.iinet;  —  necessary, 

)r  rp,  cat;  BuefoD'san- 

i:>.iiMi,P  ,.  -imJ',  2S(5'287,2Ss'i  — in' 
Is  hy  Lucretius  and  Virgil,  2S7  ;  be- 
happinesa  of,  sympathy  with,  479  ; 

;  —  praised  by  the  poet ;  why,  4S3. 
15  i  —  of  the  village  poor 


ved 


,  287  ; 


See  Par- 


what  right,  481,  482  ; 
Annals  of  the  parish,  3: 

ish  Register. 
Anne,  Queen,  complimented  by  Pope,  292;  —  and  peace, 

294  ;  —  glories  of  her  reign  ( Pope),  294  ;  —  her  reign,  3S9  ; 

union  of  Scotland  and  England,  390. 
Anointing,  precepts  as  to,  339. 
Ant^its,  a  giant  king  of  Lybia,  sonof  N''|>inn.'  ■  di-  --i  i  :i),i| 

Terra  (earth),  and  famed  for  wrestliii-'     ^i  !         : 

earth;  hence  Hercules  conquered  li;  ; 


^'     '  "      iM,.i,    -i    ih  I,   ..  .,i  Elis,  Greece,  who,  enticed 

I  :,  !h.  .1.  Li  .1.,  Aiilr.u-,  iMtliL'd  in  it.  The  river-god 
r<><-  and  i<iiisui.d  li*  r,  and  ^Ik'  was  changed  by  Plana  into 
a  fountain  ;  but,  resuming  his  shape  as  a  stream,  Alpheus 
followed  her  under  the  sea  to  Sicily.     See  Alplieus. 

U-gonauts,  story  of  tlie,  498,  499  ;  eflfects,  499. 

Lrgyle,  Duke  of,  eulogized,  306. 

LiiiON,  a  famous  puet  and  musician  of  Lesbos,  about  628 
B.  C.  The  story  is,  that  being  at  sea  with  great  wealth, 
the  sailors  thnnv  him  overboard  to  get  it ;  but  a  dolphin, 
charmed  by  his  harping,  took  him  on  his  back,  and  lauded 

LRisT.Ecs,  son  of  Apollo  and  the  nymph  Cyrene,  was  born 
in  Cyrene,  Lybia,  Africa,  and  brought  up  by  the  seasons, 
or  nymph*;,  wh<^  fed  him  nn  nectar  and  ambrosia,  and 
thus  rend..'1'd  him  imiiK-rtal.  Si.*e  Anthou's  Classical  Die- 
love  witiM'  ;  i  iivbce,  he  pursued  her,  and 
inherili-li       ,     n         i|     -..  -'ipent,  whose  bite  caused 

uh--[iin'N    ■!■  I.    K-..  !,  ■■    i.   <l.--cciption  of,  and  legend  of 

I         II   .  >t<ii-y  of,  233— 2313  ;  homes 

'  J    I    :  ■:<  \  contest  of  Arisueus  and 

-  ^  I    ,    I ;  I  iiis  the  rite,  and  produces 

I  .1    I       !',  ,   .  I    iin^nn  nf  a  minister  of  Castle- 

■    -■'■   I'..'  i.  ■■   i;  -iHn--3hire,  Scotland.     He  is 

.1      ■i(.    >pIeiRtic.   kind-hearted. 


losophy,  152  ;  —  to  reason,  fancy,  poetry,  151  ;  —  to  Italy, 
216;— to  the  God  of  Nature,  310;  — to  God  the  Re- 
deemer, 484. 

Apothecary,  for  the  paupers,  257. 

Appetites,  sensual,  to  be  restrained,  65. 

Apple,  British,  66  ;  —its  soil,  culture,  and  use,  377—384  ; 
choice  varieties  of,  381 ;  pippin,  moile,  permain,  ottley, 
eliot,  john-apple,  harvey,  thrift,  codling,  pomroy,  russet, 
cats-head,  381 ;  musk-apple  ;  red-streak,  best,  381,  382. 

Apple-cheese,  385. 

Apple-gathering,  385. 

Apple-trees,  culture  of,  378  ;  —  mucking,  circular  trenching, 
watering,  378  ;  prunin-.',  383  ;  —  swine,  wasps,  snails,  rot, 


I  one  ol  the  Heraclidse. 


,  52,  53  ; 


■Inny  that  founded  Syr- 
twenty-two  miles  in  cir- 
descendants  of 


-daughters  of  necessity,  209  }  — 


riot,  equally  wrong,  201. 
in,  belonging  to  Hesiod,  the  earliest  writer  of  poet- 
precepts  on  farming.     He  was  a  native  of  Ascra,  a 
.'t  Bii'i'tia,  (.itcece,  :?ituatcd  on  a  rocky  summit  of 

i!    II   I     III      A-  i.i,i:i   i.u,ii-y  hence  means  rural  or 


oe  Praise, 
ival  of,  131. 
,  story  of,  410,  411.     See 


morn,'  a  song  (xix.),  123. 
.  universal  history,  the  friend  of 
a  sist^'r  uf  Alticus  married  his 


IS  approached,  when 

seen.'  —  BARTnOLDT. 

Arcadian 


621 


And  shoving  only  the  dismantled  i 
1  In), 


I  or  the  house  Gold- 


work,  at  least,  of  the  DeserU'd  ViUnge. 

AuKUst :  an  ode,  by  Street,  262. 

Auffusta,  a  poetical  name  Tor  London,  4. 

Augustus,  Emperor  or  Rome  (rrom  31  B.  0.  to  14  A.  D.),  dei- 
fied and  lnvoke.1  by  Virgil,  207  ;  —  a.lulation  or,  as  a 
Iieace-maker  to  the  world.  213  -,  — compliments  and  adu- 
lation or,  221. 

Aurengzebe,  Mogul  Emp.  or  India,  going  rorth  to  hunt,  361. 

Auricula,  8. 

Aurora  Borcalis,  305,  307,  403.    Sec  Northern  Lights. 

Author  or  Nature,  praise  to,  28  ;  —  or  the  vcgclablo  world, 
praise  to,  ror  its  wonders,  91. 

Author,  the  dull,  a  winter  bore,  265. 

Authors  in  retirement,  267  ;  —honors  to,  307,  263. 

Author  Hector,  the,  415. 

Aulocnit,  llie,  470. 

Autograiihs  in  Parish  Register,  371,  372  ;  plough  and  pen. 

Autumn  and  Winter  personified,  59  ; — rarmer's  work  in, 
rains,  211 ;  —  sky  or,  297  i  rogs  or,  304  ;  soml)rc  hues,  306  j 


308  ;  splendid  autumnal  day,  SOS  ;  enjoyments  or,  309  ; 

close  or,  334,  336  ;  —  in  October,  dreamy  api>earance  or, 

366;  — in  the  orchard,  335  ;— splendid  dayor,  303',— 

rruiu,  385. 
Autumn  :  a  poem,  by  James  Thomson,  297,  310. 
Autumn  :  a  poem,  by  Blo<imHcld,  331—335. 
Autumn  :  an  ode,  by  H.  W.  Longreliow,  343. 
Autumn  Woods  :  an  ode,  by  W.  0.  Bryant,  W3,  344. 
Autumn  :  an  o<le,  by  Thomas  Hood,  376. 

Ilvmii  or  the  Husbandman  ;   by  Jones,  368. 
Nit'htrall :  an  ode,  by  H.  W.  Longreliow,  344. 
Aviuanches,  SwiM,  399. 
Avarice,  liow  it  curses  a  country,  35 ;  —dissuaded  rrom,  64. 
Avaro,  his  mishap  in  the  May-day  riot,  93. 
Avocnto  pear,  421. 

"     or  Naples,] 


'  but  a  mile  and  a  hair  in  cir- 
-  Ba'iai  and  Pozzuoli.    It  was  connected 
with  Lake  Lucrinus,  and  bock  or  it.  Agrippa  made  it  into 
i  port  Julius,  by 


I  and  the  Lucrine  basin 


Once  it  was  gloomy 
with  rorests  sacred  to  Hecate,  a  goddess  or  hell,  but  now 
it  is  liiilr  \v.-kI.,1,  ciilt;v;iti,il,  light,  and  airy,  and  cxhila- 
ratii.-^ '     •     're  is  the  Grotto  del  Cane. 

J.K '  mele,  the  daughter  or  Cad- 

tiv;il-  V  ,  i:,     ',  iiites  and  BacchiB,  ran  about 

rriiMii.-ni... ,  in. ..  M..i..>  ..  I  L.iilied  with  vine  and  ivy  leaves, 
with  fawu  ilviaa  uvur  Llitir  shoulders,  swinging  thyrsi 
(blunt  spears  twine^l  witlwvy-leaves),  beating  drums  and 
s  orten  indecent  and 


Bacchus,  invocation  to,  213  ;- rites  or,  218. 

Bacon,  Lord  Verulam,  culOjjized,  150  ;  —  his  remark  on  gar- 
dening, 161; —  the  rerormer  or  I 
his  garden,  165. 


Bagi>ipcs,  music  or  the,  on  Mayday,  91. 

Ball,  the  cart-horse,  195  ;  flies  ;  cruelty  or  docking,  195. 

Ball-play,  270. 

Baltic,  tempest  in  the, ! 

Bank,  a  flowery,  in  spring,  8. 

Bankruptcy,  through  building,  87. 

Biin<iuct,  rural,  or  May-day,  described,  97  ;  or  Alrides,  96. 

Itaptisms  :  a  poem,  by  Crabbe,  316—322. 

Bakbu  ID,  Mrs.  Anna  Letitia,  the  sister  or  Dr.  John  Aikin, 
w:ii  imrn  ill  ITW,  and  died  on  the  9th  or  March,  1826. 
H-T  ft'' 'r  '  fv-'i'  ■'.  «.'h'">l  ror  boys,  and  his  daughter  re- 
ceiv.  I  I  1     !    II  with  them.  She  married  Roche- 


slic  piiiai-tiivl  l's;ilm>*  -,  also  Hymns  in  Prose  ;  and,  lu  1786, 
assist.-.!  lier  lirother  in  writing  Evenings  at  Home.  She 
compiled  a  selection  or  essays  in  1803  ;  and  or  the  British 
novelists,  in  1810,  with  notices. 

BiRBAi'LD's  (Mrs.  A.X.)  ode  on  Spring,  51 ; -lines, 'God 
Kvcry where,'  296  ;  —lines  on  the  Divine  Sovereignty,  78. 

Bards  and  prophets,  140, 

Barnaby,  the  rarmer's  butt,  322. 

Baknakd,  Lady  A.nss,  authoress  or'  Auld  Robin  Gray.'  It 
was  composed  about  the  year  1771,  ond  became  po)iular, 
but  she  kept  the  secret  or  iu  authorship  ror  fltty  years, 
when,  in  1823,  she  acknowledged  it  hi  a  letter  to  Sir  Wal- 

66 


ter  Scott.  Lady  B.  was  daughter  or  James  Lindsay,  fifth 
Earl  oT  Balcarres,  and  marrleil  Sir  Andrew  Barnard, 
librarian  to  ae<'rge  III.     Uom  1760,  died  1825. 

Barn-labors  In  harvesting,  105. 

Bastlle,  the,  471 ;  prisoner  or,  471. 

Bathing,  advantages  or,  147  ;  —  In  nunmer,  147  ;  story  or, 
147, 148  ;  —  precepU  respecting,  339,  340 ;  —  bather,  147. 

Bayard,  blind,  h    "     "  "   ""' 

Bayona,  Bayonne,  lo  i 
the  *  bayonet.* 

Beagle,  tlie,  IU  habits  I 

Beans,  In  blossom,  8. 

Beasts,  some  degenerate  by  change  or  climate,  273. 

Beathk,  .Iamks,  1,1,. I),,  a  Scotch  poet ;   author  orThc  MIn 

sir  1,  .1  I     -1,1    i s.     lie  was  born  1736,  and  died  it 

Is"  11  '  !  I  ||  -h  i>',siUon  among  the  poets  and  au- 
tl.  I  w;is  Proressor  or  Moral 


Benuiies  ,.i  .Niuur.-,  io-i,  '264,  '205  ;  —or  the  countiy,  284 
ir  nut  [eit,  uuiuot  be  |>ainted,  '284. 

Beauty,  elTects  or  on  rude  natures,  50  ;  no  spot  entirely  Inca- 
pable or  It,  162  i  true  line  or  beauty,  167  ;  nature's  usual 
curve  ;  seen  in  the  ox-fbrrow,  team-rut,  milk-maid's  path, 
course  or  hare,  stream,  167  ;  —  consists  with  thrift,  168. 

Beauty,  Spirit  or :  an  ode,  by  R.  Dawes,  160. 

Bedrord  Level,  498. 

Beds,  mattresses,  reather-beds,  and  health,  341. 

Beech,  uses  or,  62  ;  —  spring  revival  or,  131. 

Beer,  66  ;  its  efTects  on  British  valor,  97. 

Bees,  at  work  In  spring  In  the  meadow,  8 
ered  Tor  honey,  308 ;  —  the  subject  or  Vlrgirs  fourth 
Gcorgic,  2'29 — 236  ;  resting-places,  herbs,  229  ;  bee-hive, 
wild  bees'  nests,  cautions,  K9 ;  habits  or  bees  In  spring, 
young,  swarming,  quarrels,  bees  going  rorth  to  war  ;  bow 
to  know  the  true  king  and  best  race,  how  to  recall  bees 
rrom  idling,  230 ;  gardens  and  garden  plants  ror  bees,  329, 
231 ;  social  polity  or  the  bees  ;  various  offices  or  individu- 
als ;  liiv,  lik.riiei!  to  the  Cyclops  armory  ;  various  employ- 
m-Tit«.'j:ll  :  •■■.ri..!  li:iWt9orbees,  231.  232  ; 


t  to  be  a 


\  length  or  lire 
.ih;  how  and 


lire  ;  honors  to  the  q 


>  get  the  hon<7 
I'-stroy  the  bee-moth,  lllards,  etc., 
iiid  remedies,  232,  233  ;  the  AmeU 


blo._.d,  :::^'i  i  story  of  Aristaius,  Cyrene,  Proteus,  and  Or- 
pheus, '233—236  ;  Aristajus  artificially  produces  a  swarm 
or  bees,  236. 

Beehives,  how  to  make,  2'29.    Bee-moth,  232.    See  Bees. 

Beggary,  '21 ;  —  and  tliieving  caused  by  sloth  and  waste, 
461 ;  —  prevention  or,  606. 

,  a  brot"        

cidefitally  by  h 

Bellosa,  goddess  or  war,  90.  Her  temple  stood  outside  the 
gates  or  Home,  and  here  the  Roman  senate  received  am- 
bassadors. Berore  it  stood  a  pillar  over  which  a  spear  was 
thrown  on  the  declaration  of  war. 

Bcnacus,  Lake  Gardn,  in  North  Italy. 

Beneficence,  the  best  outlet  ror  superfluity,  200  ;  — should 
unite  rich  and  poor,  26S  ;  all  nature  mutually  helprul, 
268  ;  —contrasted  with  selfishness,  151. 

Benevolence,  how  landholders  may  exert  it,  66. 

Benevolent,  the,  warmed  up  in  spring,  1-2. 

Benighted  wanderer,  308. 

Bible,  a  lamp  to  Nature,  476  ;  —  commenUtott  on,  316. 

Biography,  raise,  80,  81. 

Bio.v,  a  Greek  poet,  born  near  Smyrna  ;  he  lived  chiefly  In 
Sicily,  and  died  there.  It  is  said,  by  poison.  Mosehus  was 
his  pupil.    "  •        ■■      —"  "  •  — 


A  Theocritus. 


Bios'3  Evening  Star,  '25. 
Birch,  uses  or,  62, 


Birds,  their  loves,  0  ;  —  nest-building,  9  ;  love  ror  and  care 
or  their  young,  10,  11 ;  couruhip  or,  9  ;  —  nests,  9,  10  ; 
places  ror,  9,  10  ;  robbed,  10  ;  —  young,  learning  to  fly, 
10  ;  —  rearing  of  young,  10, 11 ;  courage  and  art  or,  10 ; 

—  hatching  eggs,  10  ;  the  young,  10,  11 ;  caging  or,  10  ; 

—  songs  or,  In  spring,  13'2,  133  ;   young  or,  hi  spring, 
133  ;  —during  winter,  468.    Birtl-lire,  In  spring,  132,  133. 

Birds,  ballad  to  the  :  by  Graves,  129. 

Bittern,  a  sign  or  spring,  3. 

Blackbird,  the,  morning  song  or,  42  ;  —  love-song  or,  9. 

Blackhcalh,  England,  50.     Blade,  the  early,  42. 

BlaUe,  Bp.,  and  wool-comb^ 

'  Blast '  or  the  cane,  efliwu 

Bleaching  wool,  dyeing,  etc. 


,  and  remedy,  426,  *M. 


522                                    B  R                                INDEX. 

C  A 

BlessiDKS  on  the  master  who  gives  labor  its  dues,  197. 

and  most  of  them  befor 

e  he  was  twenty.  He  wrote  Britan- 

BlessiiiBS  of  rural  life,  JTl. 

ma's  Pastorals  ;  Sh.-i.h 

r.l's  Pipe  ;  Irmer  T.-mpl,,-  Ma3,,ue. 

Blon,l,  ,:,,:il,,-i.:,..n-      ',  -  -  ,  >val,  chyte,  199. 

t:, „..,■,,■,  i-,:ii.....,'-  r 

Bloi.M,   ■        J-    .'J 

Blmm,,   ,,         k                           '  .         ll'iiiinKton,  Suffolk,  in 

177'.,    I.I  ...    '     .  -      .   .  !    l:    1    .  l-lnre,Augasll9,  1823. 

\ ,  .  1       II          '  1 . 1  to 

His  l.ili.i,.,  ,.il..i    .l:.,l  „l.  .1  III..   i.iiL-t  was  a  child,  and 

he  was  l.luowl   uii.li-i-   li.s   uocl,',  a  larmer,  for  two  years. 

1  ...       1,.   ......        -,.           .,.,li,nh 

Being  tuu  weak   for  a  farmer,  lie  was  taken  by  his  elder 

wuspulil;,;          .     1. 

brother  to  London,  and  brought  up  to  the  trade  of  a  shoe- 

liamsCnii, 

|..,.-  ,       .      -  .         '.1  tl,e 

maker.    It  was  in  a  shoemaker's  garret  that  he  composed 

law.     11    , 

i,]  Gni.l  1: 

tliirlv    r..,  :\     .1--     M,  ■■.-;.>,  -'^r.      .lii'l;-..-,,     r.,,,  I    I,  .•-l.i.- 

.11     ';n.^^;i;::;t^ 

Buin-'i"...'.'     '   \'.'   .                          -.'.■.:    _     .'  .      ■     ^1,    ■  ..    , 

,,'■;';;■  ,',,,  ,   ,'',  ;, 

..    1     ■    ni    ..-|.,   -is'.i;- 'Autumn 

f; 7,'^     ...        II  .          11  .  ,    '    ,    ii'.ik.-i,  .,.:.^,  .,-;■  ,— 

\\ '. .  I,  ■  ,.,,   '     ,1,,, ,' 

,4;->t„ies,Uym.i:'anode,39, 

l.n.  .,     ..   1    .    ..          i   .  ii  1    1        1  .ii;-JlarUut  Niglit,  a 

'"-     ''  "i'.'  \  ,;'."„.'he 

,  261; -'Song  of 'VVooine,' 159  ; 
,376;— 'Summer  Wind,' 206. 

Bi,'"..i  '             111.          1            -'   ,  41— W;    Summer, 

i. 

111.;     1  IT  .    \ nil  .     .1    \\.i.t,;r,145— 449. 

r,.,                         .        1    .  .  .'nip 

y  wells,  SI. 

Blosai,,,,.,  u,.-  »M,:d„i,  4. 

Blue-jay,  the,  132. 

B:jdy,  the  spiritual,  influences  the  animal,  451  ■,  —  progress 

of  the  body  from  youth  to  age,  203,  204. 

1       ,-     ,      ■     ,                    ll..,.,rd 

Boiling.  ,if  cider,  3^5. 

Bo,«.,-lnv.--...  Ih-  .  .Mii'ii.n  llvil  .-n  nv.t;.,-,  i.  f,-,.p,  firr,  n..!-,  r,S 

,       .'           '"'■'''^ 

B0..K1-I1   I'll  -.11.    ,1,   .   1.     ......1   1,1     II,  1  .111  l|...     Il„ 

B0..I,  ..|    N 1.      .      . .         1:..,   1:. 

Bo„l,-i.  .1.      ,   ,.  .        ..1,. 

.  i'..      .    .       ,        1      ...       .    1  -   ....  :,„d 

Bo.,l„s ..11,1   .       |..         1  ..  .    ...  in   1.1,1..... ,:>,.., 

1  .  .  1 .  .,     II 

Bore.,,,  U,...,..; ...1.     ...     1.    ..,«    .W.„U,  |„uL„,0U,li 

of  the  nortln ;     .              .    .      ...LI  as  a  god. 

Borough,  an  in.  |i,.    .      . 

r...   ,  .           .;,.,. 

.,  ,1      ,,    ..       .    .nn.  .       ...    ,|..  ...... 

Borrowdale,  172, 

Borrowing  anil  1. 'i                         1    .  ...vi.-d,  21. 

;    1  .  , 

.    ,  ..                       i,  !.i-|..i|....in,iri 

Boston.  K-,..l....l.  l-_ 

:  1  -                       1  ■     Ik  Una  burn 

Bot:..i...,l   I,..,...,    .                                              -Jit, 

Botani     1          .     |.             .1                        J>1,2S2,  321. 

11 v'.'ni.',      1,  J,' 

111., III..,-.  III.-  i-i..,.   1    ■. 

i      '.''inni'V     '  '■'■"'"^'"''^' "■ 

Bow'..,  111..,  ..1   li......  1;.,  .1.11..,  1  ;■..,' iso'i'visit  to,  181. 

Bowls,  a.d.oy,dai.Ci,.g,  270,271. 

Box-tree,  uses  of,  62. 

Boy-brcdegroom,  married  to  her  he  had  seduced,  370. 

1;,:                  ..,,.          '. 

1,11;  — the  vanquished,  224. 

Boyle,  160. 

:        1   ,),t)yCrabbe,  407-416. 

Braes  of  Yarmw  ,  a  ballad,  by  Hamilton,  465,  466. 

\:'.             .      ,,      '      , 

1,  2.:,'>.  See  Laborer:  Pauper. 

Brazen  A-,-,  H,.>,  R.-i-urs  description  of,  19.     See  Ages. 

'■"         ■     i 

1:'.,'.'     . !. . 

Br....lii.                             .t..f  the  horse,  223.    See  Horse. 

1:     ,    1; 

II, -t  volume  at  Kilmarnock, 

Bret.iii.  rill. .1.1.  ,.ii.  .  ...vl'in.  .1  hall.nl,  129. 

|.i.-s,  inl7S6.     It  soon  be- 

Bri.l.U,  l.j,. ,  la.u.l,,  ..l..,,.«  ....•  1  .I'll-,  1. ...■!-,  an.l  flowers,  166. 

..    1  l,.-,...il,-    ,l„.  larionf    Kllis- 

Bride,  a,  b.  l.e  or  not  to  1...  .1.1  ....     )..  . ...    n  .k-uuy  and 

lan.l,  ,„'.,,    Ii 

i  ',i,-...,.ni.  .In, III,-    He 

Peggy,  106, 107. 

1.  -,      1    ,.,  .,  .lilts. 

Bride  and  Bridegroom,  the  ;.         nil                ,J 

Bridget  Dawdle,Ro.gerPlu..k,  II  |.      .1         1   .  .l.nan,  372 -, 

fate  of  Bridget,  372 ;  lov.    .:          .      .      .  ..    ,    72 

l.nl.l^li.  1,        1, 

,,.,,...          .1  l.ia-c 

Britain,  origin  of  the  nam.      11             .,    ,„..l„.,-. 

66,  67;— eulogy  on,  67  ;         . 

war  and  peace,  eulogizr.l,    .  . 

eulogiz.-.l,  149;    cities,   1  i- 

412'      1 1'.. _. ,1  ..,.■■.■ .  .,  ; .  r, :',    ,    ; 

'".'iii'.'IV".:"/'.,',- 

I... -y,  20;- Cotter's  Satur- 

,  .tl...  siicrificed  strangers  on  the 
V  -l.n.l.y  Hercules. 

Br'i't., Ml'..''   'r.  .'      .         '    V.     .'  i,'.'  '.      ■    1  ,.'     'r.V    ,11     ",;, 

r  1  .   •  '.,'"i'!.,'-"l'"  "''e 

Dairy ;  Patty. 

Br.l..l.     ....                ....           i:             .      ,         1  ... 

1: .,-;  .....il,  lao.                                                    II 

Bnt...... -1  ....  .        .                           ,     .      , 

Bnjl....i  II.  Ill,  .In      ,,  [..  1   ,     ,  ,1         1  ,   |.,,,.-.,      ,J7, 

Brotherl 1,  cnn.in....,  ..I  Inn '■;  ,  ^1 

Brown,  called 'CapahiHty  111  .V,  I.'   ,    .  ..ii,n:..i    ml  ,..11:.- 

.    ,    I  ',;, 

1  1  ,  1.  II. .„  /,...,,.,„  ,-l,,.-l..ftlie 

uala  in  reinodelliii- and  ni..  I.  .  m  1  n      1  1.  .  m  .  .;  .  i.  ,       II. 

\i.  ■   i. 

1    .  ..-l.,rl.l,ly,ii.,,-l, „..-.., and 

is^e,™,,,i,,,.m,.,l.,s.,,a,,.,..,i,.^ 

..    1,2134;  conclusion  of  Virgil's 

'''lanin,     !\  ,'„'',  ^,  ,!  n'    'li       n  ' ,  '    ^  „  .  '' , '  i   '      ..     '\':.'.      ^         \''.,^- 

.-ii'i".::.,'::':.:'.-'.','.;. 

l.,|.„rtentsat,  213;  Pharsa- 
in  '111,'1,1'longing  to  Calydon,  acity 

on  a  rocky  hc-ight  of'.l 

tolia,  of  ample  and  productive  ter- 

rltory.    The  Calydnae 

were  islands  near  Tenedos  ;  also 

He  died  at  Ottery  St.  Mary's  (Ooleriilge's  birth-place),  in 

another  group,  off  the 
Calista,  wife  of  Uobbinol 

mast  of  Caria,  Asia  Minor. 

1645.    All  his  poems  were  produced  before  he  was  thirty, 

senior,  89. 

528 


Calliopr,  the  reus 
Culm  brforc  April  a 

liost,  H6  i  binis,  r 
CalmSf  sultry,  of  the 
Calves,  care  or,  223;  i 
Cam,  Cniiiai,  n  river  t 
Cambrlilge  Paraon,  the,  416  ;  his  death  and  I 
Compnuia  (CamiuiRii:!  K.^liiv),  S.  E.  of  Niipl. 
Canullini-f.r  .Irnnh,  ■,  in-u- i-I  .n,  nii.l  Inii^ 

Cane,  lls.-nlnu.     ii  i     i  '  ■.  :  ,i,...)i.i  \~  II,.. I. 

posts,  41"  ;.......  .,...1.1.1 


of  planting',  ill  i  nl 
ley,  421 ;  jolnUoK-i 
land  to  plant;  sued 


Cone-liiiuls,  n  ',  II  I  .  I.    1,1  ,,,!,  .1  III  .lull    III. I  .111  II  i  .1 
Uane-plaiil  ni"'*'">^<  ^*''-'  v^l-i-^l'  aiU^jL  u,  4:..--i_;  ,  iii.,;t- 

428 ;'  ants,  428  ;  hurricanes,  436,  427  ;  earthquakes,  427. 
Cane-soils,  dark,  of  Ilarbadoes,  etc.,  418  ;  urigation,  418  ; 

compostlnf?,  418. 
'  Capability '  Brown,  Mr.,  alluded  to  by  Cowpcr,  88. 
Captivity,  its  Iiormrs,  471. 
Caravan,  144,  145. 
Cards  unnecessary,  459. 
Canling  wool,  503. 
Carrl-piayers,  inveterate,  250. 
Care  and  love  for  trees,  83. 

Care  as  affecting  health,  452  ;  what  drink  useful,  452. 
Cares  contrasted  of  employer  and  employed,  319,  320. 

Carpathian,  belonging  to  Carpathus,  now  Scarpanto,  an 

island  of  Greece,  near  Rhodes. 
Carthngena,  New  Grenada,  Vernon*s  fleet  sick  at,  145. 
Cascade,  how  to  secure  a  iwrmanent  one,  178. 


w,  use  of,  437. 

lia,  or  Castaly,  a  celebrated  fountain  on  Mt.  Pamas- 
,  sacre<l  to  the  Muses.  Oozing  clear  and  sweet  from  the 
k,  it  pours  down  the  cleft  between  the  two  summits. 
>f  Delille,  celebrated  by  La  Fontaine,  284  ;  stuffed,  284. 
act  and  rude  scenery,  141. 
irine  Llnyd,  the  prudish  spinster,  story  of,  410. 
and  liberty,  144. 

?,  propur  shelter  for  in  winter,  222  ;  breeding  of,  232  i 
linj."  and  trriining  of,  223  ;  feeding,  fighting, 224  ;  epi- 
.i,-  ..i.ii,,],..',  -i'T,  228.  Cattle  buried  in  snow,  226  i 
.11,,  .  ,"!  Kiiiiltiess  to,  445  ;  feeding  and  watering, 
III.  ;  in  winter, 467. 
i:       i.  litst,' a  song  (vn.),  108. 


e,  208,  267  )  rejected  sUg,  288  ;    ravage!  of  the 
in  harvest,  66  ;  autumn  music  of  the,  334. 
Chase,  the  regular,  came  in  with  the  Normans,  34B. 
Chase,  the  ;  a  poem,  by  Somerville. 
Cheap  Immortality,  248. 

Cheese-making,  69  ;  — skim-milk,  sale,  etc.,  43,  44. 
rii.-.-lluiiii'a  Tliippy  Mean :  an  ode,  324. 

'I    -.   I  ,11,  ,1  I.,  ^hopping  —  empty,  470. 
I      i:  :,i/.ed,  401,402. 

11- s  of,  62  j —double  row  of,  a«. 


,  her  restless  grief,  165. 

man.    Tliey  were  fabled 
Thessaly,  and  may  indi- 


1  11  Ml  I,  !■  -if  Saturn  and  Rhea  *,  she 
1  L'i-:iin  mid  crops ;  being  the  same  as 
[liemeter),  her  Greek  name.  She  sought 
-osi-rpine,  whom  Pluto  stole,  all  over  earth, 
i.r  f'>r  part  of  each  year  fVom  Hades. 
^iiiiinit-r  r('li>;iousritesto,by  farmers,  211. 

J 15— 282  ;  joint  stools,  246  ; 

1  .  -  Ills,  248.    Sleep  and  the 


Cliainpion,  th< 

champion,  9l. 
Chandos  family,  382. 
Chauoer  eulogiicil,  150. 
Change  indispensable  to  happiness,  350. 
Changes,  harmony*  of  natural  and  mom 
Chanonat  the  schoolmaster,  289. 


,  at  May-games,  91  ;    the  valley 


14  ;  —  carefiil  education  of  urged,  133  j  —  the  cotter*!,  how 
to  be  clothed  and  armed,  as  shepherds,  170  ;  —  healthy,  of 
the  cotter,  170  ;  a  live  fence,  170  ;  rose  of  innocence,  170. 

Children  in  the  Wood  :  a  ballad,  185, 186. 

Chilled  circulation,  341. 

Cliiswick  gardens,  *U. 

Choice,  the,  by  .Moschus,  translated  from  the  Greek,  88. 

Choleric,  lulvice  to,  455. 


Christobclle,  422.    Tale  of  the  West  Indies,  427,  428. 

Cliristmas  Hymn,  by  Milton,  abridged,  444. 

Cidir,  a  imcm  by  .1.  Philips,  377—391 ;  Book  I.,  The  Apple, 


at  the  May-day  fray. 


Circuit  of  the  waters,  304. 
Circulation  of  the  blou<l,  199. 
Clthwron,  an  clevatcil  ridge  of 

from  Megaris  and  Attica,  in  C 
Cities,  disadvantages  nf  as  to 

252;  nurs.»..farr,  3'.>K. 

Cili^.-M.  !.  .  MM .I',  i>  walk 

Cilp.i..    M    I   .    ,  "  .2\i. 


—  city,  till-  hurii'.l, -JT!" ; — city,  tlie,  in  winter, 
city  pomps  and  dJssipation.H,  45.S. 

Civil  war,  271,  389  ;  Knglish,  380,  390 ;  Bertie,  Compton, 
Cromwell,  Charles,  Granville,  389. 

Civilliatlon,  298  ;  due  to  what,  162 ;  Ita  advantages  over 
barbarism,  261. 

Curb  Johm,  '  one  of  the  moat  truly  unedacated  of  English 
poets,  and  one  of  the  licst  of  our  rural  describers,'  was 
born  at  Helpstone,  Kngland,  in  1793,  ami  die.1  about  1829. 
His  parcnta  were  peasants  ;  hbi  father,  a  helpless  cripple 
and  |iau|KT.  At  thirteen  he  had  hoanled  up  a  shilling,  ami 
purcbasnl  Thomson's  Seiwons.  In  January,  1820,  hia 
Poems  Descriptive  of  Rural  Life  and  Scenery  were  bmoghl 
out  by  a  bookseller,  who  bought  them  for  2«.  The  man- 
tines  and  reviews  were  unanimous  in  their  fl«vor.  In  18M 
came  out  his  Village  Minstrel.  In  a  short  time  Clare, 
by  the  klralness  of  several  noblemen,  was  happy  in  the 
receipt  of  150  dollars  Income,  and  married  his  •  Fatly  ol 
the  Vale,'  his  '  rosebud  in  humble  life.' 

CLlaa's  Spring  Musings  of  a  IVasant  Poet,  63 ;  Bummer 
Insects,  282  ;  the  Broken  Heart,  326,  327. 

Clicdh  (163),  a  ftimons  French  painter,  distinguished  for  tbe 
-  -  -  '  delicate  coloring  of  li     " 


624 


Clearing  for  c 


;-plantiDg ;  spare  guava,  guaiac,  shaddoc, 


Clearing  up  of  the  storm,  147  ;  sunshine,  voices  of  nature, 
humility,  gratitude,  admiration,  147- 

Clergy  criticized,  -162,  463  ;  corrupt,  463. 

Clergymen,  country,  the  good,  the  self-seeking,  the  faithful, 
268,  269.    See  Pastor  ;  Parsons. 

Cliffs,  naked,  made  fertile,  274. 

Climate,  the  English  described,  a  dismal  picture,  49  ;  adapt 
habits  to  it,  339  ;  toughening,  339  ;  change  of  climate, 
340  J  English,  its  advantages  for  sheep  husbandry,  490, 
493,  494  i  great  men,  490  ',  contrasted,  491,  493. 

Clio  (glory),  the  muse  of  history  ;  inventress  of  the  cith- 
ara  lyre,  77.    See  Muses. 

Clothing,  winter,  for  the  Greek  farmer,  22;— clothing  ma- 


Clothier's  art  compared  with  the  farmer's,  504,  505. 

Coal-smoke,  its  good  effect  on  air,  47.         Coals,  British,  66. 

Coan,  of  the  island  of  Cos,  in  the  Mediterranean,  not  far 
from  Rhodes.  Coat  of  Arms,  the  cotter's,  315. 

CoBHAM,  dedication  to,  189. 

Cock,  the,  11.  Cock-fighting,  317. 

Cockney  poets,  theii  tinsel  ruralism,  284 

Code  Noir,  negro  code  of  Louis  \IV  ,  441     Cole,  river,  294 

Coleridge,  Samcel  Taylor,  burn  at  Ottery  St  Mary, 
20th  Oct ,  1772,  and  died  at  Ilighgate,  July  25th,  18o4 
He  was  a  man  of  profound  thoUobt  and  curious  erudition , 
and  has  written  some  poetry  that  is  unsui  passed  of  its 
kind.  He  says  of  himself  that  at  foui  teen  he  was  a  '  play 
leas  day  dieamei  a  glutton  of  books  ,'  and  so  he  was  to 
the  end  of  his  hfe  So  foilorn  and  destitute  wat.  he  in  Lon 
don,  at  one  time,  that  he  enlisted  as  a  dragoon      A  Latin 

who  restored  him  t    hi°  fiitn  Is       '  Much  of  hib  life  was 
spent  m  poverty  ^.nl  depeudenLC,  amilst  disappointment 
and  ill  health   and  in  tl       i        il  n  t\  <_   u     1  I  v   i     i 
fortunate  and  e\ce«si\  h  1 1 

other  things,  France,  an  1 1  i 
principles  ,  Ode  on  th  I 
tude  }  Fiobt  at  Midni^l  i 

ner  5  Remoise     The  ii       1       1  l     /   ]      l        \   I 

to  Reflection,  etc  etc 
CoLERiD  E  a  Domestic  Peact.,  o24  ,  Mont  BUul,  4bb 
Colin,    r  C  jlin  Clodt,  the  pastoral  name  Spenser  adopted 
Colin,  his  exploits  m  the  May  day  fray,  92,  93 
Collins,  >ViLLiAM,  was  born  at  Cbichestei,  England,   on 
Christmas  day,  1720    Educated  at  Oxford,  with  assistance 
from  an  uncle,  he  suidenlj  left  there,  and  went  to  London 
His  learning  was  extensu  t,  I  ut  he  w  inted  steadiness  and 
application  ,  hence  bis  biief  histui  j  is  a  painlul 


Corinth,  the  old  name  of  currant,  a  berry. 

Cormantee  negroes,  liberty-lovers,  436. 

Corporations,  apt  to  have  no  consciences,  463, 

Correspondence  between  Delille  and  Polish  princess,  2S9. 

Corruption,  political,  worse  than  highway  robbery,  87. 

Cosmogonists,  theu  self-conceit  and  nonsense,  81. 

Cosmogony  of  Buffon,  278.  Cosset-lamb,  the,  493. 

Cottage,  the  humble,  described,  315  ;  —  ornaments,  books, 
315,  316  ;  Cottage  children,  what  to  do  with  them  ;  in 
landscape  gardening,  170  ;  —  compared  to  spring,  170  ;  — 
cottage  content,  by  Rogers,  205  ;  —  cottage-fires,  evening, 
77; — cuttage-home,  of  the  Welsh  shepherd,  490;  — 
cnttii-.-l;il.nr,  I's  ill  winter,  460,  461 }  scanty  lights,  fuel, 

Cnit;i,-rrs,  l:)4  -,  — '.^luuiay  eve  of,  316. 

tliL'  iPK-t.un.>(iue",  170. 
Cotter's   Saturday  Night,  the,  by  Robert  Burns,  367,  363. 
Country,  adieu  to  the,  31 ;  ^recommendation  of,  48;  — 

Country -Box,  by  Lloyd,  323;— marred    by  man,  82; 

should  soothe  and  elevate,  82  ;  —  invocation  to  its  quiet 

and  virtue,  265  ;  — who  best  enjoy,  263  ;  — beauties  of, 

rupted  by  the  town,  462  ;  charming  still,  463  ;  Country 
Gentleman,  or  the  Rural  Philosopher:  a  poem  by  the 
Abbe  J  Dehlle,  tr  by  Maunde,  263—289  ;  the  country 
gill  desciibed,  31  ,  her  happy  lot,  31 ;  —  retii-emeut,  the 

disipptintmeuts,  273  , — homestead  o"" 


,89; 


76,  77. 


) sudden  e 


idge. 


Com  t,  the  Bi  itish,  293  Courtship  of  birds,  9. 

Covent  Garden  Market,  London,  61.        Cowley,  293,  464. 

CottLE\,  Abraham, 'the  most  popular  poet  of  his  times.' 

P  I  n  1618  ,   died  1667      He  studied  at  Cambridge  and 

»»        i       Though  he  went    on   several   embassies,  and 

i  1     d  fo    the  royal  fam  ly  he  WdS  overlooked  on 

t  on      He  finally  settled  at  CI  ertsey  on  £300, 


x-d   aiids 


becilitj      He  died  in  175b  age 

by  some  critics  to  be  the  m  st 
CoLLiNs's  Fidele's  Tomb     a  ba 
Colonial  gloues  of  Biitain,  442 
Columbus,  eulogized  and  ai  u  t 

fate,  and  fame,  418 
Comet,  152  Comf  1 1 

Commerce,  British    01 1 

navy,  298  ,  effects  of  l 

triumphs ,  Great  Brit 

logium  on  commerce,  t>0_     1> 


»  odes  are  deemed 


highways  and  byways  508      SeeTiade     Biitam 
CommonweaUh  of  bees  231      See  Bees 
Companionship,  indispensable  to  age,  267. 
Compelled  wedding,  the,  370  ;  sin  and  misery,  370. 
CoMUS,  the  god  of  fun.  Conceit  of  blind 


;,81. 


Concluding  Hymn  of  Praise,  by  Thomson,  514,  515, 
Conclusion  of  the  Register  of  the  Village  Poor,  415. 
Conflagration  of  a  ripe  field  of  sugar-canes,  420.  See  Canes. 
Congo  negroes,  436. 

Connoisseur,  coxcomb,  479.  Connubial  bliss,  14. 

Conscience  calls  to  the  quiet,  country  life,  359  ;  hardening 

of  conscience,  474. 
Conservatory,   179  ;    description  of  the,  by  Cowper,  84  ; 

Consolation  for  the  lossof  the  lirpaii.Ll,  m. 

Constellations,  ten  of  tli.in  n;i i   i.>   \m'i1,210;    Kids, 

Dragon,  Arcturus,  Scal-s,  I>mii,  Ai-.>,  <  .mis,  Pleiades, 
Crown,  Bootes,  Dipper,  Lull-  \-<  :ir,  -1".     !^'-:-  Zodiac. 


A\    LL  Aft  tl 

Bcrkhan  stead    wl 
1731  ,  d  ed  Apr  I        l 
his  father  i\as    1    1 
English  system  of 


s  Born  at 
t  Nov.  15, 
descent,  and 
Through  the 


Crabbe  Re 


hn^ 


I  Feb       lh3 


pro  pect,  and 


fifteen  dolla  s  of  m  ney  n  1  ket  H  s  fi  t  poem.  The 
Candidate  vas  coldly  ece  ved  and  h  s  pubhsher  faiUng, 
the  poet  h  s  extieme  need  vrote  to  No  th  Thurlow, 
and  others  1  ut  got  ne  tl  e  a  d 
disclosed  h  s  m  serv  to  Bu  lie 


1,  he  publ  she  1 
iced  by  c  t  c  1 
I   sent  h  m  £11 


ofthe  Duke  of  Ru  1 
Cbabde's  Par  sh  Re 
Marriage     3b9 — c  ■ 


Th  s  year, 
ras  favorably 
to  breakfast, 
and  became 
e  chaplaincy 


li  1      ms    315—322  ; 
40  ^lo    —A  llage:    a 
—  Ijp  y  or  Hall  of  Jus- 
tice, 39  —394 
Crabstocks  g    ft  ng  of  379    wl  y  preferable  3  9 
Crazy  Kat     250  Crea       69 

Creation,  cea  eless  of  seeds  and  eggs  62  — pretenaiona  as 
todate  of  t>l  —the  n  spring  318  —a constant  recip- 
ient of  life  from  God,  478. 


625 


Cromwell  ni 
Crops  riiK'ii 
Cruelly  I" 


Cube  aii.l 
Cucumlx  I 


Krowlli, 
Cuddy,  liw 
Cudgel-I>>'> 

Cuir,  Buv- 

Cullodeii.  I 


costly,  S4  ;  —  >>    ^.l-i;    l,  -i-  ,  ■''■    -'l  '  i-tiionaWe,  272. 

Culver,  a  l>igt''>n,  h.  (."mnbrkin,  Welsh. 

Ccs.siNGlliM,  JoB.s  (1729—1773),  a  respectable  actor,  son 
of  a  wine-coo|ier.  In  Dublin.  In  his  latter  years  he  lived 
at  Ncwcastle-on-Tyne,  in  the  house  of  a  generous  printer, 
and  on  his  hospitality. 

Ccs-NISOHJIM'S  Day  :  an  eclogue,  163, 154. 

CcplD,  note,  p.  26,  in  a  bush,  and  shot  at,  13, 14  -,  —  a  Run- 
away :  an  idyl,  by  Moschus,  26. 

Curds,  whey,  and  butter-millc,  43. 

Curve  of  Beauty,  167.    See  Beauty. 

CvBELE,  the  'Mother  of  the  gods,'  or  '  Great  Mother; ' 
daughter  of  Coelus  (heaven)  and  Terra  (earth),  and  re- 
garded as  the  goiidess  of  Nature.  Iler  worship  was  fran- 
tic, like  that  of  Bacchus. 

Cyclops,  one-eyed  giants,  workmen  in  the  smith-god's  (Vol- 
can's)  shop,  under  Etna,  where  he  and  they  forged  the 
armor  and  weapons  of  the  gods,  the  shield  of  Achilles,  and 
other  choice  bits  of  classical  smithwork. 

CvNTUiA,  Diana.    See  Diana. 

Cyprian,  belonging  to  the  Isle  of  Cyprus. 

CyiiKSB,  story  of,  233,  334  ;  daughter  of  the  river  Peneus. 
Apollo  carried  her  to  Cyrene  (Uarca),  in  Africa,  and  had 
by  her  a  son,  Aristieus.    See  Aristseus. 

Czartorinska,  the  Polish  Princess,  i68  ;  her  correspondence 


with  1 
Dairy,  the,  43 ;  —  fanning,  68,  69  ;  —  m« 

Daisy,  8  ;'—  the  Mountain,  an  ode  to,  by  Bums,  25,  26, 


,  and  her 


Diunask  rose,  9. 
Danioh  and  Clin  ;  a  piiiitoral  ecluR 
Damon  aii.l  Mm-iIi  ..  -ii>  -i.  n: 
Dance  arnMi.l            I  .. 

Danceur-U'      ■//■■,       ',,■ 

''■ 

JO,  496. 

'  Mis  names,  167; 

'J  ,lLScribed,16S; 
>    111  alarm,  16S. 

3  dancing  com- 

,  i^  ;  figures  of  the 

Dai-jims,  a  fiimoua  sheplitrd.     ^e  mitcs  pp.  18,  19. 

Danla.^  Trepan.               Darent.  nver,  2W. 

Darwin  and  Peter  Pratt,  321. 

David,  his  faith  and  stay,  366. 

Dawn  of  a  Summer's  Morning,  136. 

Dawk),  Rufus,  the  youngest  but  one  of  a  large  family  of 
sixteen,  was  born  at  Boston,  Jan.  26, 1803.    Ue  studied 
at  Harvard  College,  was  admitted  to  llie  bar,  but  never 

isupei 
ship  of  various  gods,  23, ; 

Days,  lucky 

Days,  two,  describci),  311. 

Day  of  Judgment,  learned  men  at  the,  81. 

Day-star,  arisen,  131.       Dead,  the  loved  and  honored,  260. 

Dead,  the,  of  Winter,  405.  Dean  fnrcst,  63,  and  note. 

'  Dear  Roger,  If  your  Jenny  geek  : '  a  song  (il.),  103. 

Death,  a  happy  one,  14;  — of  the  good  man,  36;  — Uic 
mother's  :  a  tale,  412 ;  her  children's  grief,  412  ;  — a  part 
of  and  necessary  to  progress,  204. 

Death-beds,  407  ;  cheerful,  unusual,  407  ;  gloomy  retrospec- 
tion ;  resignation  unusual,  407  ; 
407  ;  death-bed,  commonpUice,  407  ;  proper 
feelings  described,  407. 


and  in  the  fom 
Mt.  Parnassus, 
which  so  long  i 

Mere 

i'hjini 
n  abbi 
>lm,by 

Ti 

.hlihentre,  on  the  south  side  of 

temple  of  Ap.. 
worth  ten  an' I 

1  lui..kred  of  lrea«lres 

Prance),  at  a  » 

treasures.  Syll 

Delight  iu  God : 

D«ul,.«,Jka.s,« 

compliment  u> 

I  •  ■     .l<u  plundered  it. 

of 
the 

.r..!*.-,  I>y  Francis  Quarin,  192. 
Prance,  poet  and  diplomatist; 
Pruices.  CiartoriMka,  of  Po- 

See. 


>  the 


got  the 'Rural 


Dklillk's  (the  abb^  Jean)  Country  Gentleman  (Homme 
des  Champs,  or  Man  of  the  fields),  s 
translated  by  John  Maunde,  with  th 
Philosopher,'  203—289. 

Delirium  tremens,  462  ;  Pentheus,  462,  463. 

Deluge,  moral  cause  of  the,  6 ;  its  effect  oo  the  seaaofu  and 
on  life,  6  ;  effecU  of  tlie,  278. 

Deluge  of  hail  and  rain  in  summer,  146. 

Delusions  of  the  worldly  or  natural  man,  80. 

Demons,  note  upon,  p.  19.  Denham,  293. 

Deo,  Opt.  Mux.,  an  abbreviation  tor  the  UlllQ  phrase  Deo, 
Optimo,  Maximo,  used  by  the  Romans,  and  meaning, '  To 
God,  the  Best  and  Oreateal,'  134. 

Desert,  the,  is  only  where  man  is  not,  162. 

Deserted  Village,  the  ;  a  piwrn,  Ijy  G.iliismith,  36—38. 

Desolation,  rural,  30  ;  — of  aspect,  how  to  manage  It  In  a 
lan(lsca))e,  167  ;  horror  to  1m:  changed  to  grandeur,  167. 

Destruction  of  Ariconium  ;  drought,  gases,  earthquakes,  370. 

Dbucauo-N,  a  kind  of  classic  Noah.  The  legend  Is  that  Ju- 
piter wishing  to  destroy  the  race  of  the  Bnuen  Age,  Deu- 
calion, by  the  advice  of  his  fa 


liiunond,  137. 

liana  in  Wuidsor  Forest,  292.  Dibble,  the  sexton,  414. 
liet,  vegetable,  6,  7  ;  — of  roota  and  herbs  recommendcil  by 
Kjiicurus,  64  ;  —a  poem  by  John  Armstrong,  199 — 204  ; 


Dinevaur  Castle,  ruins  of,  76. 
DisaplKiintmenta,  village,  320. 
Disappointment ;  a  pastoral,  by  Willi 
Discontent  universal,  320  ;  —  effecU  o 
Disease,  if  it  seriously  threatens,  cons 
Diseases  of  bees,  and  reraeilies,  2;J2. 
he  West  Indies,  438  ;  . 


DisUir,  the :  au  Idyl,  by  Thcocrlm 

en's,  503,  504.        Dilchem  and  Dawklns,  Uiclr  story,  320. 
Divine  communion  a  balm,  305  ;  David,  366. 
Divine  love  and  wisdom,  progressive  In  effecU,  162. 
Divine  Providence  :  a  pastoral  ode,  78. 
Divine  Sovereignty  :  a  hymn,  by  Mrs.  A.  L.  BarbaukI,  78. 
Dobbin,  the  plough-horse,  unharnessed,  447 )  eulogy  and 

biography  of,  447. 
Docking,  cruelty  of,  195. 
DoDl.st;lox,  Bibb,  lord  Melooinhe,n  friend  of  Thomson  i — 

tributes  to  his  worUl,  by  Thomson,  136,  187,  188,  308. 
DODSLBV,  RuDBKT  (1703—1764),  ' 

Usher,  a  friend  of  Ir"  

a  poet  and  writer. 


the' 


DoDsLBY's  Agriculture:  a  |>.^n.,  .ii  tlin.  . 
DoDSLKv's  birthplace  and  aapiratlvna,  03  ; 
Hcription  of  himseir,  63. 


oTh« 


Dogg,  care  of,  227  ;  watch-Jogs,  227  i  hounds,  1 
Dogs  of  chase,  345—348.  See  Hounds.       Dog's 
Dolly :  a  ballad,  by  Bloomfield,  238. 
Domestic  animals,  slaughtei-  of  '"  ' 
Domestic  bliss,  described,  14  ; 

—  troubles  cured  by  reason,  patience,  piety,  time,  373. 

Domestic  Peace :  a  sonnet,  by  S.  T.  Coleridge,  324. 

Donald,  young,  and  old  Mrs.  Dobson,  369  }  Lucy,  Susan, 
Catharine,  foiled,  369. 

Doric,  relating  to  Doris,  a  country  of  Greece,  forty  miles 
long,  south  of  Thessaly.  The  Dorians  were  the  most  pow- 
erful of  the  Hellenic  tribes,  and  history  mentions  their  five 
successive  migrations.  Of  these,  the  migration  to  the 
Morea,  in  connection  with  the  Heraclidte,  took  place  ia 
1104  B,  C.  The  primitive  manners  of  these  austere  com- 
munities caused  the  word  Doric  to  be  used  to  signify  sim- 
ple, plain,  austere,  Arcadian,  rustic. 

Doris  and  ^olus,  story  of,  277. 

Double  triumph  of  virtue,  374.  Dove,  in  spring,  11. 


iC  u 


2^8 


le,  58 


Elizabeth,  Queen,  w 
Elliot,  Miss  Jane         i  i-  lliot ,  aut 

ess  of  Flodden  fiel  1 1  i  I-   re^t,'  3i 

Elpenor,  drunken,  hib  fitL   obJ 

Elton,  Sir  C   A    hi-^  translation  from  Hesiod,  19—24 

Elysium,  the  part  of  Hades  or  the  Shades,  appropriated  t 

the  quasi  happv     tl      !  i 
Emancipation  of  ^  f^\  T 
Emerson,  Ralph  "W^ 

cated  for  a  Umtai 

vinity  Schcol,  he  \ 


See  Hades 
Jmerall   137 
It  1803    Edu 


But 


Dove 


,  172. 


Downward  tendency  of  things,  209,  210. 
Draining,  63  ;  — to  improve  healthiness, 
Drama,  the,  401.  Dram-drinking 

Dram-shops,  a  curse  to  the  poor,  461,  46 
Dray-horse,  described,  69. 
Drayton,  Michael, born  at  Atlv  r--tn!i.  A' 
about  1563,  died  1631.     fl^   u  ,-  ii,.    - 


I  Notes     an  ode  244 
Inme  3S    —  hoi  rjis  of  their  western 
i  mith  si eflectioiib  on  emigration,  38 
iJ>l,  by  Diyden,  102 
38  ,  — and  employed,  contrasted  cares 


page  to  a  person  oi  iiiMiu,        :■■,.■,>      .    ■  i 
time  at  ©xford  Universilv        i      '■  i    ■■       ' 

rals,  and  afterwards  otN'r  p  ■  ,:i-  l  h-  ,  i.i  ;  v>  ..ii.  i-  i  !,■ 
Polyolbion,  describing  Eu^l.iii.l  II,  iliii.>  :^^a\^s.  Ih^:  i,\- 
tract,  p.  34,  is  from  the  twi;nty-riL;liili  SMiig. 

Drayton's  '  Bouquet,'  206  ;  — Robin  in  Sherwood,  34. 

Dreams,  the  chief  pursuit  of  mankind,  80  ;  —horrid,  341  y 
what  they  portend,  341.  Drill,  use  of,  60. 

Drinking,  sudden,  of  water,  avoid,  after  sweating,  339  ; — 
to  drown  care,  reprobated,  452  i— dreadful  effects  of  in- 
temperate, 452, 453.        Drinkinf 

Drinks  for  a  dry  climate,  49  ;  for  ' 

use  of,  203  ;  cordicils  are  fur  ac;e,  2011  ;  —  monthly. 


,  described,  302. 


Drought  and  moisture  in  soils,  20S  ■,  irrigation,  208  ;  —  pre- 
cautious against,  213  -,  —  effects  of,  378,  379. 

Drunkenness,  disgusting,  389  ;  fate  of  Elponnr,  3S9. 

Dryden,  John,  an  illustrinu'!  ]'<■•■!.  wiitr.-,  rmit  ]>nrti';nn. 
Born  in  Northamptonsliii' .  I  ■!  ,  \'i  '■<■  "  l"l  '■■  l 
May  1, 1701.     Educatrii   >.     i 

graduated  at  Cambrid;.'!'.   II  '  ■ 

II.,  wrote  twenty-seven  \Aa.  ■. ■  n,.  ..,,»,.,,,.,  v,  .,- 

Dryden's  '  Emily  a-Maying,' 102  ;— Virgil's  Tityrus  and 
Meliboeus,  45,  46  ;  —  Virgil's  Georgics,  207—236. 

Dryness,  too  great,  avoid  in  a  home,  48  ;  —  remedies,  49. 

Ducks  and  ducklings,  11,  57. 

'  Duty  and  part  of  Reason  :  '  .i  \  .  i    ,  1  jiK 

Dyeing  wool, 502  ;  dyestutr-,  l: 

weld,  cochineal,  505 -,  I'l' I  . 

father  meant  him  for  tljr  i;i 'A  /i.ui  ii,.jM„r-  i,m.^\\.i.- 
averse,  and,  after  rambling: 'iver  AVah's,  and  sk(.-tching  her 
natural  beauties,  he  wrote  Qrongar  Hill,  p.  75.  He  next 
made  the  tour  of  Italy,  to  study  painting  ;  but,  discour- 
aged !is  an  artist,  entered  the  church.     In  1757  he  pub- 


Early  rising,  388  5  exhortation  to,  136. 
Earthquakes,  from  heat,  146  ;  —  of  the 
Echo  and  Clio,  77. 


i:si;uirnl>,  liiili.-li,  60,  07  Esher,  the  vale  of,  64. 

Estates,  rural,  how  abused  and  wasted,  86,  87. 
Essex,  England,  its  plains  unhealthy,  and  why,  48. 


products  and  ] 


I  67  5  —  of  Lord 


wind.  EmiYDiCE.  See  Orpheus,  235. 
1  1^  I.-  of  Argos  and  Mycenee,  in  Greece,  and 
yi  11.1  ■!  .1  1'.  hi-.  Hercules,  being  two  months  younger, 
was  ti>  I.L'  subservient  to  his  will,  by  the  fiat  of  Jupiter. 
This  power  was  cruelly  used  by  Eurystheus,  who  imposed 
upon  Hercules  twelve  labors,  which  form  a  copious  s 


JPCt 


the 


HeT 


ibya 


Eden,  garden  of,  165  ;  d.-; 
Edgar,  King,  suppresses  | 
Education,  a  delightful  ta 
133;  -necessary  to  eir 
Educated,  enjoyments  of  1 


:  n.  <.r  Austin,  in  Suffolk,  described,  42,      See  cut  ( 
111  farm,  the  early  residence  of  Bloomfield,  p.  197. 
1   (well-pleasing),  the  muse  of  music.     See  Muses. 
.  .■i,,Ma,14. 

iiiL,  in  the  country,  by  Gray,  28  ■, — village  1 
1  ;  —  shades  of,  77  ;  —  of  summer,  151  ;  —a 

(Cowper)  ;  composure  the  gift  of  evening  ;  evening- 
ar,  moon,  459  5  —walk,  148  ;  with  Amanda,  149. 
i-ninf;,'  a  pastoral,  153,  154  ;  —  a  sonnet,  by  Milton,  262. 
iiiii^s  of  winter,  399,  401;    spent  sensibly,  338-      See 


,  translation,  by 


star,  161  ;  the  '  Evening  Star,' 
i;ui,  of  a  Greek  ode,  by  Bion,  25. 
,  near  Stratford,  89  ;  its  vale  described,  89. 
I  eating  to  be  avoided,  201 ;  and  even  satiety,  201  i 


—  in  wine,  food,  fforli,  iitiurioua,  203  ;  premature  old  Rge, 
203. 

*  Exercise,*  a  poem,  337 — 312 ;  forming  pArt  of  Arm- 
slronK'a  An  of  Preserving  Ilenltli.    See  Armslrong. 

Exercise,  49,  264  ;  —  in  titu  garden  rccammeiided,  83  }  — 
precepts  respecting,  337— 342  ;— various  kinds  recom- 
mended, 337,  33S  ;  —  angling,  ganlenlng,  338  }  —  choose 
that  which  is  most  agreeable,  338  i  —  effects  of  too  sud- 
den ;  cough,  astlima,  pneumonia,  338,  339 ;  avoid  triclts 
of  strength  (tours  de  force),  and  exercise  moderately, 
339;  — best  times  for,  340;  — winter  re(|Uln«  much, 
summer  less,  340  )  cool  of  summer  morning,  340  ;  chilling 
dews,  340  -,  —  promotes  good  sleep,  340  -,  exercise  not 
upon  meals,  341. 

ExhalaUons,  cause  terapesU,  146.         Exile  of  Siberia,  403. 

Exotics,  arrangement  of,  in  green-houi 
dependence,  in  gardening,  174  ;  tlic 
tal.'.  174  ;  —  lli'W  to  dispose  of,  175 


1  the  Swale, 


:,  161. 


Kail  of  the  leaf,  rawlilatio 


«ls,e5. 

:ai'y,  505.  Fairies,  151. 

)allaii,  by  Bloomfleiil,  73,  74. 

.ns,  306. 

■  crops,  ashes,  203. 
Ill,  409,  410. 
rest  Eniriaud,  3S2,  383. 
red  ;  '  improved '  or  spoiled,  86,  87. 
Famine,  201.    See  Hunger. 
.1  artistic,  invocation  to,  161  ;  laslted 
uids,  162} — truth  and  memory  form 


Farm,  buying  of  a,  55 }  —  utensils,  56  ;  —  winter  the  time 
to  choose  one,  55 ;  —described,  by  Dodsicy,  67  ;  — good 
management  of,  21  i  —  tastefully  laid  out,  63  -,  walks,  wall 
fruits,  esculents,  03  ;  —  ruined  by  sloth,  60,  61  ;  —  prod- 
ucts of,  65—70  i— tools,  described,  66  ;- Roman, 209  ; 
ploughs,  wagons,  sled,  tumbril,  hurdles,  flail,  van,  209  ;  — 
farm-yard,  described  by  Dodsley,  57  ;  haystacks,  wheat- 
stacks,  wood-piles,  cattle,  i\  ' 

Farm    laborers,   i»ltinL'limcii, 


Ihroshf; 


Feeding  the  young  home  and  bull,  224. 

Fences,  the  art  of  making,  61,  62,  108  ;  necessary  defects, 
168  ;  sunken,  how  made,  160  ;  for  deer,  for  sheep,  ]6D  : 
wire  Ibnce,  string  fence,  elm  and  oak  hnce,  169  ;  painted 
fences,  160  ;  — living,  of  children,  170.     See  I'alnUil. 

Fermo  orne  (Frcncli),  '  an  ornamenled  farm,'  tlie  result  of 
landscu|)e  gardening,  161 — 184. 

Fcstiviii  at  »li.ariiii:-tlim>,  4115  i  Welsh  flower-festival,  496. 

FesSiviI  .  ,,   _,    .    r  II,    W.<t  Icidlos.441. 

Fevrr-,-  1 '  -.\.  IS. 

Kuv.i.,  ,       111.-  Ihi-m,  48. 


Field,  suuuuur  i 
Fine  arts,  in  tli. 
Fire,  the  origin  • 


aloud,  265 ,  — the  Happy,  a  ballad,  443. 

■  First  of  December,'  an  ode  416. 

Fish  and  oil,  food  of  the  Arctics,  202  ;  no  Tegetablcs,  202. 

Flail,  56.  Fla.x,  British,  66. 

Flies  and  fly-time,  196. 

Fleece,  the,  a  poem  (three  of  the  four  books),  by  John  Dyer, 
489—609 ;  Book  I.,  Sheep,  489-^96 ;  Book  n.,  Wool, 
496-602  i  Book  III.,  Woollens,  603—509. 

Fleece,  picking  and  sorting  of  the,  496,  497  ;  moth,  wool- 


1684, 


1660. 


lirls,  s 


labors  of,  210,  211  i  tlic  cttuk,  211  ;  —  KuiiKiti  fai-mer,  his 
social  enjoyments,  221  ;  — tlR-Sabiucs  ;  Romulus,  Remus, 
221  ;  tarmer.l  coiiBralulnted  on  their  happiness,  did  they 
but  know  it  210,  220  ;  cniitiasted  with  the  luxury  of  pal- 
aces, 21'.  ■-■"':  ^  V  '  •hf:irraer,220,221i  — the  suc- 
cessful I. II'        -.- trasted  with  that  of  the 

sailorat.il  '       —  i«:cupation3.  enjoyments, 

and   aidi    '  :;—' Farmer,  The,'  an  ode, 

i,vTI..(ni  11  I  ,;.  70  ;  — hospitality,  and  happi- 
I;'  ,-,    11,  !    I  I  Ml..,  .j>^  i  — fire  of  i  wood,  fireplace, 

I  loler  fireside,  446  ; 'his 


drudiie,  UTJ. 

Farmer-boy  and  sailor-boy,  their  lots  compared,  446. 

Farmer's  Boy,  the,  a  poem,  by  Bloomfleld,  41 — 44,  193— 
197,  331—336, 445—449.    See  Bloomfleld  ;  Giles. 

Farming  art,  worthy  of  poetry,  4  )  science  and  art  of,  68  ; 
its  history  and  progress,  271 ;  manuring,  liming,  marling, 
nii.vini;  of  soils,  271,  272 ;  witchcraft,  the,  of  siiade  and 
plough,  Biiecilote,  272 ;  pursue  approved  methods,  ^2  ; 


Farming  aivl  |.,...rv.  2i1 

Fashioiialil.  .     i ,   lil-     -.  ^0  ;— tollies,  459. 

Fat,unhr.or     .  l  ■'  .  :    1  .|,rep,600. 

Father  ri.nn     .  , ..t-o  (Pope),  294. 

Fear,  thi-  n .  :   i  -i      .  i  .  i   J  .   !■  .ly  diseased  by  alls  of  the 

mind,  4o2  ,  —  i.tio.-.iw.  ...;..i^'  truth  and  innocence,  44«. 
Feast,  at  harv.sl  lionK-,  lOli  i  simple  plenty,  196;  frothing 

ale,  hasel-nuts,  laughter,  and  song,  196  ;   change  in  iu 

character,  197. 


clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  wrote  *  The 

Purple  Island,'  a  poetical  allegory. 
FLETrmiiN,  .Tons,  ■Shepherd's  Kve,'  an  ode,  368. 
Ki  jT.  I-.  ■-    I'lnvBAS,  'Shepherd's  Life,'  an  ode,  488. 
\  :  1.  449;  in  whiter,  398. 

i:  I  M'7o';her8tatuc,179,180;Tisltloil,181;  — 

il...w  1. ,  1..1,   I,  of  spring,  132  }  wilted,  137  ;  compared  to  a 

Fiower-fesiival  of  the  Welsh  sheep-shearing,  496. 
Flowers  of  the  Forest :  a  ballad  of  Flodden  Field,  367. 
Fly,  artincial,  and  fly-flshing,  28,  29. 
Foliage,  in  landscape  gardening,  162, 163. 
Folly,  reproof  of  it  little  hopeful,  79 ;  dUgust,  80. 
Folly  of  many  desires,  263,  264. 


;  experience  a  guide  as  to,  200  ;  ani- 
'    "  j  vegetable  food  of  the  tropics, 
;Ions,  cocoanuts,  pine-apples, 
acids,  palms,  plantains,  202. 
Fools  compared  to  dry  clods,  194  ;  —  and  bravoes,  196 ; 

their  savage  jokes,  106. 
Footman  and  farmer,  372 }  spruceness  versus  wortli,  372. 
Forbes,  eulogized,  306. 

Forcing  process,  of  early  vegetables,  remarks  on,  84. 
Forenoon,  In  summer,  137. 
Foresting,  how  managed  In  a  landscape,  163—172  ;  —  not 

sung  by  Virgil,  172, 173. 
Forests,  their  use  In  correcting  a  too  dry  locality,  49  ;  — 
their  renovation  in  spring,  131 ;  —  glooms  of,  haunts  of 
'     bards  and  prophets,  guardian  angels. 


Forest  Hymn,  by  W. 

Forest-trees,   2ts  ;  — 

growth  of,  02  .       I 


ilnmliii:  of, 

native  land,  272,  273 ; 

that  of  children,  273. 
Forethought  and  thrill,  21. 
Fortitude  Inculcated,  64. 
Fortune,  its  capriciousness,  excmplK 

lOO. 
Fosse,  the,  608.    See  Watllng-street 


Foshil  impressions  of  pHnts,  278 
FoundliDg,  the  pauah,  321,  d22 
Fowling,  deaci  ibed  by  Pope,  2i2  ,  by  Gay,  30  ,  by  Dehlle, 

266  ,  depiecited  2bb 
Fo\,  the,  and  hi-.  \  ictmib,  43  ,  —  and  &tag-huntinj,'  30  ,  — 


1    trjpics,  142  ,  lem- 
Hjples,  142  ,  fiiut  jjdth 


Fuller^ 

FubCL 


1  th,  British,  6t),  and  r 


Gelons,  a  people  of  Scythia,  who  lived  in  a  wooden  city  •, 
supposed  to  have  been  originally  a  Greek  trading,  priestly 
colony 

Gems,  embiyo  buds,  or  germs. 

Gems,  minerdl,  fiom.lieat,  137. 

George  II ,  eub^ized,  70. 

Geoigics,  \irgil's,  by  Dryden,  207 — '236.;  Georgic  I.,  farm- 
ing, soils,  weather,  207 — 213  ;  Georgic  II.,  trees  and 
vines,  213—221 ,  Georgic  III.,  farm  animals,  221—229  ; 
Geoigic  IV  ,  bees,  229—236  ;  —  described,  29. 

Gemenos  valley  and  its  happy  winter  clime,  274. 

Generosity,  incitements  to,  268. 

Gepius  of  Britain,  invocation  to  the,  by  Dodsley,  55. 

Genms  of  the  place  to  be  consulted  in  landscape  gardening, 


167 

Genms,  its  spark  t 
Gentle  Shepheid,  tl 
Geologists  satuize 


;  cherished,  170. 

a  pastoral,  by  A.  Ramsay,  103—121 
r  conceit  81 


I  um  of  the  green  house  I 


pr  de     J  mpathy   ph  losophy  44    repos  n^   194 

ha  ve  t  eniloyments    195      tieid  ng   down    the 

—  1      L  t    t  d  d  d  sappo    ted  hosp  tal  tv 


1  lie,  160,— of  Eden, 

Guk      I.    1      II       ,1      u.  iv  UL.jn,16i— 184    See  Ma- 

Gai  deiia  '*upi  1\  iUb'  L  nd  in,  61  — and  Gaidening,  by  Dods- 
le\,  b3  b4  ,  — Uenius  of,  apo'^trjphe  to,  b4  — and  gar 
den  philosophy  of  i-picui  us,  b4  ,  —  Dutch,  htiffness  and 
angularity  ot,  t»4  ,  —  vulgar  taste  in,  b5  j  —  exercise  m, 
healthtul,  338 
Gaidener,  his  happiness  ,  friendly  rnilues  in  his  art,  238 
Gaidenmg,  landscape,  —  &ee  Mason's  Ln^Iibh  Gaiden,  161 
_1S4  — uiikn  wn  tj  Komms,  161  ,— simplicity  is  true 
t\  t  11      I*  r  nmks.   Ibl ,  expensive  fully  and 

I    I  I      letumeis  of,  Ibo  ,  Addison, 

1    I  -1    nstone.  Blown,  Ibo,  16b  ,  e\ 

1  It  b  ,  —  and  painting  compared, 

I  1        —  conversation  on  ait  as  ap- 

I I  111  Lngh&h  compared,  272  ,  — 
—  1  I  V  tlie  story  of  Alcauder     See 


1  ubiished  riit  ^ 


Lveijwheie  an  extract, 
npiehensible,  81;  —  made 
things,  475  , 


Li  biau  flocks,  „„6. 

Mrs  Barbauld  ;  —  how  far 
:he  country,  man  the  town, 
IS  hfe,  478  ;  —  God's  Uni- 


^eise,  the  inheritance  of  the  good  1 

Gods,  ruial,  inv  stations  of  Virgil  to,  207. 

Gods  of  the  woild,  pleasure  and  gain,  485. 

Goe,  widow,  tale  of,  408,  409. 

Golden  Age,  221,  309,  310,  311 ;  —  or  Shepherd's  Age,  495  ; 
—  de&ciibed  by  Hesiod,  19  ;  by  Mason,  168  ;  by  Browne, 
311 ,  — contiast  of  with  ours,  168  ;  — incredible  now,  462. 

GoLDbMiTH,  OuvhR,  Dr.,  born  in  Ireland,  Nov.  10,1728, 
died  4th  April,  1774.  He  was  the  sixth  of  the  nine  chil- 
dien  of  Rev  Charles  Goldsmith,  a  poor  curate,  who  be- 
came rector  of  Lissoy  jiavish,  Kilkenny  "West,  and  here 
the  poet  was  brought  up,  and  found  the  materials  for  his 
Deseited  ^lllage  Graduated  at  Dublin  College,  he  tried 
law  and  medicine,  made  the  tour  of  Europe  on  foot,  and 
returned  to  live  by  his  pen.  After  extreme  poverty,  his 
inrome,  in  1773,  was  five  to  nine  thousand  dollars  ;  but 
he  died  ten  thousand  dollars  in  debt,  though  his  writings 
have  placed  the  world  infinitely  more  in  his  own  debt. 

Goldsmith's  Deserted  Village,  35—38. 

Good  feeding  of  slaves,  439  ;  beans,  rice,  flour,  cod,  her- 
rings, 439 

Good  man,  his  quiet  life  and  happy  death,  486. 

Goi  gonius,  his  cudgel-play  at  May-day  games,  96  ;  defeat,  96. 

Gossiping  and  idleness,  dissuaded  from,  22. 

Gout,  24b  Government,  formation  of,  298. 

Glales,  wild-wood,  of  Great  Britain,  164. 

Glass  bottles  ,  glass-blowing,  387,  388. 

GUtsum,  6b 

Gleaner^,  194  ,— song,  by  Robert  Bloomfield,  290. 

Glib,  Dr  ,  =iupplants  the  midwife,  413  ;  bis  plea,  413. 

Gloiy,  the  held  of,  a  pernicious  school,  463. 

Glossaiy,  Scotch,  26,  336, 186,  540  ;  Old  English,  16,  34. 

Glow-worm,  151 

GftACEb,  the,  8  ,  three  Grecian  deities,  daughters  of  Jupiter 


1  trees  ;  transplanting, 
L^hilips),  379,  380. 


He  wrote  Mar^  Qu 
Walks,  Biblical  1  ai 
Georgics. 


529    I 


.417— U2. 
,  351—863. 


anxnAMi's  Poor  Man's  Sabbath,  330. 

Uhaisoeb,  Dr.  Jiuks,  bom  In  EnuUnd,  1721 ;  died  In  the 
Wi!St  Indict,  In  1766.  Ue  itudled  iiiwliclno  In  KdlnburRh, 
waa  In  the  army,  and  aftertrardi  practlstNl  In  London.  Uo 
publiahed  a  poem  on  Solitude,  in  1796  ;  vent  to  St.  Chrl<- 

topher's,  W.  I.,  In  1769,  c 

ried  a  lady  of  fortune,  and  1 

GBAiHORR'a  Sugar  Cane :  a  poem,  417^442. 

Grand  Moguls,  dejcription  of  their  rast  hun 

QRANriLLK,  Lord,  addressed  by  Pope,  291 ; 

Qrapo-presslng,  Umo  of,  23. 

Grasshopper  (cicada,  screech-locust):    an  ode 
from  the  Greek  of  Anacreon,  by  Oovley,  202. 

Gratitude  of  the  farmer,  06. 

Grave,  flower  planted,  a  Swiss  custom,  267. 

Gravcdo,  what  site  occasions  it,  60. 

Graves  before  and  griefs  behind,  soliloquy,  373. 

Graves,  Kbt.  Richakd,  born  1716, dial  1804  ;  wrote  'Spir- 
itual Qalxote,'  &c.  i— his  Ballad  to  the  Ilirds,  129. 

Qbav,  Thomas,  born  in  Lomlorl,  Dec.  20,  1718  ;  died  May 
31,  1771.  Alter  leaving  CambridKe,  he  tnivelletl  over 
Europe  with  Horace  Walpnle.  In  17 1-2  he  tnai,  the  degree 
of  Bachelor  of  Civil  Liw,  >ii  n.„„i,pi.|....,  wh.Te  he  chiefly 
residwl  during  tin;  r.  ■'.  :  !ii-  li:  ,  I  '>liii'^  himself  to 
poetry.  In  1750  li.-  in  :  i  '  1  :  .  mi  1757  refused 
the  office  of  poet   l;mi  :  ,  — .    a:i^  appointed. 


without  SOliCiUlUoU,.,.  11,       1.,    .1 

History,  at  Caml)ri.l^t,u.;:.t.v . 
He  never  read  lectures,  li"ive\ 

his  poems  at  Stoke,  where  is  his 
Grit,  monumental  medallion  of, 
tribute  to,  172;  — lh"lin..<..fii 
p.l72,note,«renotinil.   .    iv 
in  Gray's  Brat  ediii-H      i      .   . 

"^t-s^'^^StSr^Si^ 

Great  Britain,  ai)ostropho  t.i,  on  h. 
egyric  on,  149—151  ;  h-r  -r-., 
and  glory,  390,  391.     .<      i;,/ 

Great  men,  of  Oreec.-  :<■.  !  l: 

Greek  Husbandry,  ai.r: 

20;- worthies,  39!M".      - 

GrbrXS.  Kobbrt,  writ..r,  .lr.i;...iu, 

!■    i  1/uiguagesand 

He 

tomb 

note, 

llrii'i 

38;- 

rpro 

finished  several  of 

p.  172;  — Mason's 
K.le?v  alluded  to  at 
:.  J  ;s;  but  appear 

.  M':i:.i'r'found, 

-ode  on  the  Spring, 

lucl3,66;  — apan- 
140,  IM;   Aer 
i-li;  Kngland. 

-      Mifhty  Dead. 
I,  for  (Heslod), 

'  ,,I'i,'V  died  1692  ; 

Grief,  I 


e,  described  by  Cowper,  84,  85. 
,  by  the  practice  of  beneficence,  183  ;  —  for  the 

deal),  260  ;  a  substitute,  260. 
Grnngar  Hill,  In  the  south  of  Wales,  prospect  from,  77  ;  — 

described  by  Dyer.  75,  76. 
Grog-shops,  their  inmates ;  discord,  profanity ;  why  they 

cannot  be  suppressed,  461,  462. 
Grove,  the  ornamental,  and  its  ruins,  63  ;  —  a  solemn  ;  for 

contemplation,  141 ;  —  one  described,  and  its  trees,  156  ; 

qualities  of  the  trees,  156. 
Groves,  the  Passion  of  the,  of  birds,  9. 
Growth,  how  to  be  managed  in  landscape  gardening,  175  ; 

piuiiiiii'  an.l  thinning,  176  ;  changes  should  not  discour- 

ilii  111,  ,n   \nj.u,  UO.  Ouava,  417. 

I      145.      Gunning,  described  by  Gay,  30. 

I      li   I  I.  livG.  Crahbe,  392— 394. 
i,,|.,     itiii,.  J  ...:..!  i— arts,  251  ;  — sloth,  jollity,  261; 


proper  to,  199  ; 


.  elimate  and  localities,  48  ;  —  full  habit,  diet 
1  habit,  199,  200. 
,133. 


Habits  should  be  changed  only  gradually,  341 ;  —  corrupting, 

of  the  poor,  through  Inconvenient  lodgings,  &c.,  317  ;  — 

of  a  life,  broken  through  with  difficulty,  359,  360  ;  —  of 

plants,  to  be  favored,  85. 
Hades,  the  shades,  the  world  of  spirits,  supposed  by  the 

ancients  to  be  under  the  earth. 
Ilmrnus,  the  Balcan,  a  range  of  mounUins  between  Thrace 

and  Mresia,  five  hundred  miles  long,  from  the  Black  Sea 

to  the  Gulf  of  Venice. 
Hagley  Park,  described,  with  note  on,  12  ;  by  Do.lsley,  64  ; 

cut  of,  190. 
Hall  and  rain  storm,  in  summer,  148  ;  lightning,  blasted 

trees,  cattle,  tower,  mountains  ;  Scotch  isles,  148. 
Hale,  Sir  Matthew,  eulogized  by  Cowper,  82. 
Hales,  Dr.,  his  theory  of  nature,  and  note,  69. 
Hall  of  JusUce  (or  Gypsy) :  a  ballad,  by  Crabbe, 


IlAMiLTOs'a  Bract  of  Yarrow,  466, 406  ;  — '  Lovc-song,'  18!f. 

Hamlet,  the,  by  Warton,  169. 

Haiipiness  of  the  country  life  (Virgil),  218— 2:21  ;  —  pursuit 


Happy  Fireside  :  a  ballad,  000  ;  —  mnrrlagea,  372,  373. 
Happy  .Mean,  the,  by  Cheetliam,  334. 
llarcourt,  Karl  of,  address  to  (l-hllli>s),  3»4. 
Hare,  the,  tamed  by  Cow|)e 
ing,  136;  — h 

'";  whipping  In,  throwing  off. 


eller,  ploughman,  shepherd,  villager,  349,  350 ;  shifts, 
kllM  at  last,  350,  351  ;  Orpheus,  361 ,  the  hounds'  |ht- 
quislte,  351 ;  — hunting,  20,  30  ;  in  Windsor  Forest,  292. 

nnrehell,  132.  llnrley,  Robert,  383. 

Harmony  of  styles  In  buildings,  181. 

Harmonies  and  contrasts  of  nature,  278. 

Harp  of  Propheey,  4S3. 


ollad,  by  K.  Bloom- 


li,;l,l.-n    =:,i,    L.I..,,  1."^ 
Harvest-li..iiie  f.ast,  or  llie  1 

Held,  323,  329. 
Haunts  of  meditation,  63  ;  —  solemn,  of  nature,  307. 
Hawk's  nest,  8  ;  hawking,  dcserilK-d'by  Gay,  30. 
Hawthorn,  spring  revival  of,  131 ;  —  blossorahig,  444  ;  — 

how  cultivated  and  defended,  61. 
Hay,  how  to  protect  it  from  wet,  mow-bummg,  and  sponto- 

Haying  or  Hay-making,  described  by  Gay,  27  ;  —  by  Dods- 

ley,  66 ;  —  by  Thomson,  139. 
Hazel  and  wiki  olive  to  be  rooted  up,  217  ;  —  nuts,  303. 
Health  :  an  eclogue,  by  T.  Pamell,  264. 
Health,  Armstrong's  Art  of  Preserving. 
Health,  laws  of,  subject  of  the  poem  Art 

See  Armstrong  ;  —  addres 

of  Hygela,  or  healUi,  47 

on,  461 ;  — nice  rules  of  are  !■ 

strong,  837  :  -?-  of  the  laborer,  33' 

337  ;  —general  precepts  suffice,  339. 
Heartless  obsequies,  409. 
Heat,  139, 140  ;  general  elTects  of,  146 ;  —  effects 

141—146  ;  drought,  earthquakes,  volcanoes, 

lightning,  162. 
Hkathcotr,  Sia  John,  603. 
Heathenism,  rebukeil,  note,  p.  7. 
Heaven,  spring  of,  405.  II  '■  r  1    i- 

Hetlges,  sloe,  holly,  hawthftn,.  I,    a  •     . 


tiir-oil,  acacil^  privet,  earniiti  i.  ;  -:  .  I  ..  ',  cactus, 
wild  liquorice,  myrtle,  422. 

Hedgerow,  birds  and  flowers,  61 ;  —  crali-lrees,  use  of,  63. 

Hedging  and  ditching,  01,  03. 

Hklkn,  Hblbxi,  a  proverb  for  beauty,  daughter  of  Leila 
and  Jupiter,  under  the  form  of  a  swan.  Besiiles  being 
carried  off  by  Theseus,  she  had  some  thirty  distinguished 
princes,  as  suitors,  one  of  whom,  Menelaus,  King  of 
Sparta,  was  her  choice.  The  others,  having  agreeil  to 
abide  by  and  defend  her  choice,  took  up  arms  against 
Troy,  when  Paris,  the  Trojan  guest  of  Menebius,  eloiK'd 
with  Helen  to 

HKti.K,  and  her  bnither  Phry.x 


,  dcMrted, 


through  the  air.    Helle  fell 
Greeks 

Helicon,  the  fount  of  t 
muildled,  77. 

Uellotiopes  137. 

Ubxaxs,  Mrs.  Prucia  DonnrnRA,  born  Browne,  at  Liver- 
piKil,  Sept.  26,  1793,  and  die<l  May  16,  1836,  aged  41  She 
llrst  publishetl  In  her  tifleenlh  year,  and  again,  In  1812,  a 
poem  callwl  the  Domestic  Affections.  The  same  year  she 
married  Capuin  Ilemans,  who  in  1818  went  to  luUy,  and 
they  never  met  again. 


Hunp,  1 

llESRY, 

Henry  ' 


Portugal,  gives  impulse  I 
Henry  VII.,  390. 


Home,  origin  of,  152  ;  —  the  sweets  of,  298  ;  —  of  Thyr 
tlie  herdsman,  and  Patty,  the  milkmaid,  69  ;  —  best  si 
for  homes  ;  —  bad  localities  for,  48.    See  Homestead. 

Home-brewed  ale,  195. 

Homely  picture  of  a  sterile  tract,  255,  256. 

H.>[ii'st-;i<l,  sunny,  nf  PytT,  V7  ;  —  what  site  for  one  is  tc 
M\ '  :<l'il,  4^  ■-  —  ^r  II  i'l  ■'!"!,  th''  country  squire,  89. 

II.. I,.  -■  I..  ,!i.  .1.  -.  v:i  .  .i  i.>  l'i,;li|,s  •,  peace  of,  384. 

prose  writer  i 


..)i  .if  a  li""kseller,  and  born 
■      ' I   in   ivoo.     Bred  to  en- 
Ill,  Wl.i.iw  and  Oddities, 

.              .    'I'ldothunmHs't" 
■l.inh,   J...     -' Autumn,' 375. 
;;K.,.,i..i.c,   I.,!,- and  fruition,  a 
J -,— deferred,   333;— an   excellent 

RATics  FLACCts,  the  famous  Roman 
He  died  A.  D.  8,  a  few  weeks  after 
whom  he  declared  he  could  not  sur- 

right ;  died  1565. 
son?  (xn.),  113. 


til  1  be-  sad   wlifu  ;i  husband  I  hae?' a  song  (v.), 

:i33. 

, ,  erring,  sympathy  with,  enforced,  81. 
and  Cam  rivers,  177. 

,  of  a  rtsidence,  dispelled  by  good  fires,  49  }  — 
uf,  OQ  Iiealth,  modified  favorably  by  good  wines, 
i-;it3,  temperance,  exercise,  activity,  49  ;  —  of  the 
!<■,  residence  in  unhealthy, 48. 


^ 


scr*9  for  January,  449  ;    February,  486  ;   Slaroh,  31 ; 

April,  70;    May,  133  i    June,  184  ;    July,  204;  AukusI, 

2»S  ;   Sa-'pteinlxr,  310 ;   OctolKr,  335  ;  November,  3U1 ; 

December,  442. 
nuaken,  Uio  corn :  a  ballad,  by  John  O.  Wblttier,  3M, 

357. 
Hyacinths,  D.  Hyades,  a  constellation,  23. 

Hydra,  the,  285,  288. 
UvGEiA,   the  goddess  of  health.  Invoked, 

daughter  uf  iEsculaplus,  and  cummonly  worshipiwd 


Ideal,  in  landscape  gardening,  164. 

Idleness,  21.  Idolatry  of  natnie,  478. 

Idols,  of  men,  482,  483  ;  political  idols,  483. 

lilumea,  Kiiom,  between  the  Dead  and  Ked  Seas. 

Ignorance,  its  disadvautjiges,  278. 

II  Penseroso  (the  thouitlilful),  u  poem,  by  .Milton,  240,  241. 

Immigrants,  how  a  blessing,  508. 

Immigi'utiun,  of  weavers  into  England  from  Flanders,  507  ; 
its  effect  on  Bviti^h  fabrics  and  commerce,  508  ;  employ- 
ments for  aliens,  503. 

'Immortality,"  an  extract  li-om  the  works  of  Edward 
Young,  358. 

Immortality,  brought  to  light,  131 ;  solves  the  problems  of 
time,  405. 

Imprisonment  for  debt,  399. 

Improvements,  380 ;  of  land,  61  ;  of  old  family  estates, 
86,  87. 

Incubation,  of  birds,  10. 

Indian  summer,  the,  350,  344,  343. 

Independence  of  the  U.  S.,  442. 

Indians  (Uindoos),  character  of,  251 ;  Indus,  143. 

Indifference  to  human  woes  and  progress,  is  inhuman,  81. 

Indoor  pleasures,  3S8  ;    December  ;   busom  dances,  388  ; 


Industry   r... 

298;-- 
Inequal,,, 
Ineyeiiit:  III,     :. 
Infant,  .l.-r  -  ' . 

.1,  Jl  ,  ^  rural,  268  ;  — the  civilizer, 
.,,,..  summer,  autumn,  299. 

,1   i^ilit,.:3  0f,  269,  279;— reflections 

,167. 

liij;iTiiiy,  ijiniiMl,  of  mankind,  80 ;  —  causes  of,  432. 

Insect-life,  its  inlinitude,  138  ;  in  the  fen,  leaf,  forest,  boughs, 
fruit,  pool,  air,  liquids,  138  ;  late  of,  138, 139  ;  its  won- 
ders, 360.    See  Insects. 

Insects,  104  ;  habits  of,  194  ;  —  north-born,  dreadful  rav- 
ages of,  4  ;  how  to  destroy  them,  4  ;  —  of  summer,  de- 
scribed, 137,  138  ;  fato  of,  138, 139  ;  —  wonderful  con- 
trivances bestowed  on  them,  283  ;  —  destructive  to  cane, 
425  ;  remedies,  425,  426. 

Inspiration  of  the  rural  author  (BloomfieUl),  41. 

Instinct,  of-  love,  in  spring,  ascribed  to  the  Creator,  11 ;  — 
of  animals,  explained  (Virgil),  232  ;  —  that  of  the  roe- 
buck ;  of  the  hare,  348  ;  —  lessons  from  it,  482. 

InU-mperance  and  its  curses,  203 ;  —  the  cruel  cu 
poor,  461 ;  —  some  of  its  horrors,  389  ;  quarrels,  sic* 
gout,  stone,  atrophy,  dropsy,  389 ;  the  Centaurs, 
patriotic  prayer,  389. 

Interest  to  rural  jiictures,  how  to  give,  286,  287,  288. 

Internal  improvements,  for  trade,  509. 


;  of  the 


Invocation  to  the  powers  of  poetry,  314. 
Iron  Age,  the,  Hesiod's  description  of,  20. 
Iron,  British,  66  ;  smelting  of  iron  ore,  66. 
Irrigation,  63  ;  —  of  soils,  20S  ;    Mysia,  Oargarus,  208  ; 
artificial,  in  dry  climates.  274,  275  ;  —  of  the  earth,  3 
Irritable,  cautions  to  the.  455. 
Isis,  a  river  flowing  by  O.\ford,  198,  294. 
Islandof  life,  the,  360,  361. 
Islander  (Omai),  of  the  South  Seas,  251,  252. 
Isroarus,  a  vine-covered  mountain  of  Thrace. 


Istcr,  the  river  Danube. 

'  lullan  Cot :  ■  a  sonnet,  by  Samuel  Roger*,  324. 

Italy,  praises  of,  by  Virgil,  215 ;  lu  climate  and  products 
preferred  to  all  others,  215  ;  iu  cities,  seas,  lakes,  and 
rivers,  laudetl,  215 ;  lu  various  races  of  men,  216  ;  great 
men,  210  ;  ajKntrophe  to,  216. 

■  I  yield,  dear  lassie,  you  have  won  :'  a  song  (vi.),  107. 103. 

Jack,  the  Oiant-killer,  316. 

wild  (Cowper),  364  ;  Oranby's  offer, 


Jail  committee,  390  ;  Impr 

Jamaica  lauded,  418  ;  Its  red  ruiil,  418. 

James  I.  (VI.),  390  ;  union  of  Scotland  and  Kngland.  300. 

Jaundice,  localities  favorable  to,  48. 

Jay,  132  ;  —  lova-song  of,  9. 

Jealousy,  torments  of,  described,  13,  14. 

JliMKS,  W.,  Rkv.  Dh.,  IMndaric  Oile  on  Winter,  456. 

Job's  comforters,  mo<lern,  satirized,  362. 

JoxES,  an  American  writer  In  the  U.  S.  Literary  Gazette. 

JuNKS'a  Autumnal  Uymn,  358. 

Jove,  used  for  '  the  rain,'  21.    Sec  Jupiter. 

Joys  of  wedded  love,  333. 

Judgment  day,  pursuits  of  men  In  view  of,  365. 

Julius  port.     Bee  Avernus. 

June,  tlie  month  of,  by  Thomson,  136. 

Junio  and  Theana,  sl<iry  of,  427,  428. 

Jussmo,  the  great  French  botanist,  281,  382  ;  dellgbu  ol, 
282. 

Justice's  hall,  country,  259. 

JcpiT&K,  or  JoVK,  19  ;  the  supreme  god  of  the  Greek  Olym- 
pus, the  classical  heaven.  Philosophically,  all  from  the 
earth  upwards. 

Kansas  and  the  ilisslssippi,  500. 

Kate,  craxy,  250.  Kennet,  river,  294. 

Kennel,  the,  precepts  Concerning,  346.     Sec  Hounds. 

Kent,  the  landscajK  gardener,  166. 

Kiftsfale  llundrul,  near  Stratford,  Knghind,  the  scene  of  the 
May-day  games,  90,  96. 

KiMa,  St.,  IhiwesUTnmost  island  of  the  Hebrides,  on  whose 
clilla  innumerable  birds  nestle,  10, 11. 

Kiiidn>  ss  and  humanity  to  slaves,  437,  439  ;  —  to  animals, 
4S0. 

King  and  <iueen  of  the  May,  99  ;  —  their  thrones,  99. 

Kirk,  gaffer  Nathan,  and  his  young  nurse  bride,  369. 

Knaves,  gentlemanly,  caressed  by  society,  80  ;  —  severity 
to  little,  lenity  to  great,  252. 

Knoll  of  llowers,  85. 

Knowledge,  human,  has  its  assigned  limits,  81. 
Labor,  249  ;  labor,  war,  iieacc,  and  commerce,  137, 138  ;  — 
labor  lemls  art,  in  beautifying  a  desert,  162,  249  ;  —  Its 
dues  and  claims  of,  196, 197  ;  —  the  source  of  wealth,  55  ; 
a  blessing,  249  ;  labor,  care,  and  piety,  necessary  to  useful 
results;  weeds,  darnel,  birds,  20D  ;—iU-health,  2S«  ; 
aches  and  ails  attendant  on  toil,  256  ;  cx|iosure,  256  ;  — 
276;  — simplic- 
ity, e 


claims,  197  ;  asleep,  his  happiness,  76  ;  —  1 

gooil,  199;- see  [leasant,  220;— true  sym|uithy  with 

him,  255  ; — exposures  of  1 

manly  pride,  food,  often  stin 

worn-out  laborer  derided,  a 

266;  his  despair,  257  ;— youthful,  250  ;— ii^.-.i.  .-,,  , 

—  pau|>er,  his  despairing  complaint,  267  ;  bnn.il  ■  i.  -■>  . 

—  sympathy  with  the,  445 — H9;  — lament  ..t  m' ,  I'T 
laborers  should  be  looked  after,  83 ;  — scanty  eiint  ri-  .f. 
in  winter,  460,  461  ; — criminals  and  paupers  often  more 
comfortable  than  the,  461. 

Labyrinths,  i 


ard  ;  heartless  obsequies  ; 
Lakes  of  Italy,  216  ;  Como,  Garda,  Lucrinus,  / 

Julius,  216,  216  ;—  ruin  by  outbursting  of,  278. 
L'Aliegro  (the  merry)  :  a  poem,  by  Milton,  230,  240. 
Lambkins,  innocence,  sympathy,  44  ;  doometl  to  death,  44  } 

—  treatment  of.  May-feeding,  402  ;  care  o<  new-dropped, 

403. 
Lambs,  at  play.  11,44;   the  butcher,  44  ;  —  nlghl-lkllen, 

care  of,  448  ;  bereavo^l  ewes,  how  to  assuage  their  grief, 

448,  449.     See  Lambkins. 
Lanilholders,  exhorted  to  honesty  ami  liberality  with  the 

young  farmer,  55  ; — address  of  the  veteran  hunter  to. 


532                                  L  I                                   INDEX. 

LO 

LandlorJ,  anJ  tlisappoiiitcil  farm.-r,  SOO,  301  ;  —  the  wicked, 

LUlleton.     See 

Lyttelton. 

Anrtve,;-  (-■„M.,.t.  J,« 

Ian.l-r ,.„...!>,  .1.-  .:. ..1    ■•:.:■- 

' M..   ..,.   1 

.',1    W  .  .......  ...  ...   .....;  II  .1     ..  !.. ...her. 

Larid..M|..  ,..;    ,                                         ,         ,      ,     II       ^   •: 

|. 

,  ■     i     ,       ......  I.y 

hy'y"-:-''     '^^        '  ;  ■'■  >■      u.Z,u.\ ',,'■/ ^   ,.m:. 

'...;..!,.■.,..;„.,:'., ■;,/.,:  ..„',; .■i:,n..'h'li'r8 

''1^^^''     ■''^'   '■'''''' '^^^ 

.  I,..',  l.'sV'''lo.,k'l."'l',i's 'b,..'d,  alurdi'edc'.f  a 
..  3-23,  324. 

■Isi,  ,',;.,"„    ,      '■           .     .•,:.'.     1     V--'b', --uUrWiaj 

\, 

,,,    .  ','  ,.l,!,i,'.,.  „n..  ,i..w'ril..-d.  49. 

hi '.  ~  .1-1 1' ...  1  . 

-  .     .1    1 ,...,.-..„...,    418,  419;   low 

Lan.l-,.,|..-.n.i     .                        1     ..„- in,  63;  models  of, 

'    .      ..     '■         11  -    . 

64;-r.|,|.„-  ,,.-... ..L.  to  Romans,  161;  — 

..  ,    1 -.  ,    .....     ,..   1   ;.,  .1    -  1  ..,  49  ;'a  choice 

reform  ,„..iu.   >■■  1 ,,  1...  .       ,..,.. ■„  on,  by  Mason,  161 

■-;   .  ■■ 

:  "■ , 

Laml'h.'l.. ;■■>."   '""■ 

l',";, ;',','     !'   ;,   ' 

■\.'j,]           '^' 

LaiiKu-.l....,  ...i:.il..l,  j;.-.,  .-i.i.i. 

i.          1  I' ....  -l.ry  of  ;  Pan's  pursuit,  292  ; 

Lai.lai.l  ml  l-.iiiiK,  ...Ml,  ,-i..,l  as  iM  sheep-raising,  493. 

Lai.hinl    ,    ,    I"'  .    ,     .:,.|..:,    HH  ;    „. .,  1  heni  hghtS,  403. 

1,  .  .       ... 

1     . .  1  ;  —  apnstrn],hr-  t.',  S7  ';  — 

Liirm-,  1'..    ni.    1  .,...,  :. Ic,lv. 

Lark.  I-I      I.  •...      ,:.,■.        .......  |.i 

■-,.',  ,....i'..l    ..    ...|.'.'l,  s7  ;  — ' 

LiK.-,..i  1     .                   1.  ,   ,    .   1.  ,        ...     l:  ....;.  - 

J            .    .                           ....:.                        ..  .,lp- 

it  .'I'l'    .^                        1     ...     1   1     ,             1 

.      ,     .        .     .    .    .     ■                                  .             -hip. 

Lat".-...'  .'.■'.:.':.     .     .   1     .'    1 .  .:   1  ••.        .1  .i.i;..  .,. 

1 .       ■■'/■■;■ 

1.  ..  ''■''■■     -V|.|..  „,l.,l,...JL■ss- 
.     i                          .     ll.,waoi..   C.llege,   n.     1826 

La";!,':.'.     .    ,.     .....      "  '.'.VeasL'.'a'M. 

Mr.'L.'w. '■ 

,.,pl.sh  himself  for  it.      In 

Law,,..        .             .        -       ,.,„„..,  03. 

1S3D    1...    ... 

i                1  .    1  ssor  of  modern  languages 

Law. '..I..,,,,   ,,,  .......... 

II  ..            1    .l|,;gc,  which  office  he  re- 

Law»  ui  ,.,.i„.  ,  .„..=  -=  ,:,!., Led  tor  a  knowledge  of  the  O'ir- 

s,','.' 1  '„Y]^ 

gil),  .'JO. 

\.  .   1   |.    .                   '.Mil.  :■!.  .■..■.,-    \,.-l..r's 

Lazy  in-ople  sleep  ill,  341  ;  industrious,  better,  341. 

1   .              ........       i.llall. 

Lead,  lint.sh,  GO. 

Leah  Cousins,  st.iry  uf,  412,  413  ;  her  plea  ;  supplanted  and 

1.       .      : 

....      ..    i.. ,....!  ,    .see 

takes  to  driuli,  413. 

Leander,  force  of  love  in,  225.     He  was  a  youth  of  Abydos, 

1..     '.      .-'il.    .'..   . 

■1 .  .  ,  1.    .,.,....,..  ...    "i- 

beloved  by  Hero,  for  whom  he  su-ara  frequently  across 

...i, ,     ..!..... ^  ,-,04. 

the   Dardanelles  strait  j  but,  in  attempting  it  one  stormy 

night,  he  was  drowned. 

Learned,  follies  of  the,  81  ;  arraigned  at  the  judgment-day. 

1,'  .. .  ..       .:. 

.  .  :,....     .  :..ir,,f  birds. 

81  i  —  their  labors  weighed,  366. 

Leaves,  flowers,  and  fruits,  59. 

...         .......!..   ....,ri,- 

Lebanon  and  the  Syrian  shore  at  sunrise,  171. 

..  1           i,,.-re 

Lee,  river,  England,  50,  394. 

Leeches,  p„|„„.al,  S7.                         I Is,  described,  506. 

Leisure.    ,. I.    ,-..,,,i.|   ,, ,  .,,,,1  enjoyments,  83  i — 

13;"— l:',,> 

d,ll ,, lore  it  needs  365. 

Len,,.,... ......       .    .    l:l. 

and 'ha.-,','," 

.,,■,!         ,,.....      .  I  .;          ...is- 

Less.,,,..  I.„, .,.  ,..,  .l„i.,  ... 

Level,  . !...„:,,  !.„„.  i.u,.,L.i,l.,;,c.,pse,  swamp,  167, 168. 

Lewdness,  ,lissi.a,le,l  from,  by  i:|,i,-iirus,  64. 

,  1  ....  love,  leipe,  andspri.,g,44. 

Liberty,  and  law,  11  ;  —  and  Cato,  144  ;  —  queen  of  the 

L           .     .    \i  . 

.,l,..,lmne,152. 

arts,  149  ;  —  struggles  for,  471  ;  her  cause  the  cause  of 

..,,l,ed,13. 

humanity,  471  ;  life  without  it  a  burthen,  472  ;  Christian 

..,.,..■  ..dapted  to  man's,  250;  clilT,  vale. 

liberty,  472,  473. 

Libra,  the  scales.     See  Zodiac  ;  Ceres. 

Love.'.f   .,„l„, 

.  .„, ,,.,-:,!,    4.14  ;  displayed  even  in  cities. 

Licentiousness,  in  country  as  well  as  city,  259  — its  detesta- 

ble effects,  454. 

Love,  pl.ysi.„ 

.  l..,.....i.  -1  ,  „.  the  lioness,  bear,  tiger. 

Liddal  stream  and  Armstrong's  childhoo,l,  337. 

..„■.  ■.■.'1,  JJ.,  .   I„.:....lei-,  225;    in   the  ly.i.x. 

Life,  picture  of  a  happy   on,',  U  ;  -  pl,vsi,.„l,  ll„.  son   tl„. 

w,,ll,  ,'l.,...,  1. 

mediumof,  50;  — a  well.],,, r,„.., ,,,... 1,  .,  ,.  ,  ,i 1  .,-,  7r,  . 

—  proper  business  of.  Si;  ;                                .',        ,  ,  h.   . 

decay,  204;— love  of,  J.,,,         ,-  ,.    ,                ... 
out-doors,  its  health  and  l,.,|.|.,,,.    ..  ....  ,..,,  ,,.,,..  ,. 

■'.-■': 

.'.'■■        ...' '■..'■  ..  o....n::;'^o 

,    1    '    .                 ....  '•.  . ..;., ,  ...-ml.t- 

precepts  of,  453';  —all  life  is^fro;n"liod,'47S  ;  —  vdligi  ; 

■■■■■''  ;-"""si"g 

see  Village  Life. 

Light,  apostrophe  to,  by  Thomson,  136. 

1, 

Lightning,  146  ;   story  of  its  effects.  Celadon  and  Amelia, 

- 1  ..  1  I  .  country  charms 

146,  147. 

... 1  .. 11...."..  ...|,l;.l, -cures  for,  464. 

Lily,  the,  8.                             Lima,  described,  275. 

Limagna  (Central  France),  its  e.-ctinct  volcanoes,  279  ;  - 

1.  .  .   .  ' 

.'l|. .0,188. 

DeliUe's  feelings  on  revisiting  this  home  of  Ids  childhood. 

.    ...  l,i.-,ls,  9  ;  — of  the  shepherd,  314. 

2S7. 

,       ,,.,1  ...an  to  be  inculcated    in  children. 

'  Line  ofl.eaotv.' 1(17. 

Lineia.  ,1,..  I.,„  ,,'..,.  V.(:  177  .   . ■.,!...  .i.,l.,..| ,'..  .,  177 

....  llio  panacea  for  human  ills,  366. 

Lir,...^.  !          .     i    ■                .   .    1  .  .  ■            .                        .  1-.. 

' 

...!-•,  168. 

Lin...  ,.■  ■                         1      .....    ...           :    .          .-       .' 

l;ii...s,'262.    See  Melancholy. 

Liler,,l„,.,    ,:,.^^...  .  .1. ...,,   -■.;  .       II.. 

1. - ...... 

i..-l.!..,ul3,  as  localities  for  the  sugar-cane. 

k...d  . ....... 1....U.J   l..,  =  .jr ...... ....... 

ns,.,.,. 

Lucy  ;  It  bullad,  by  UloomBekl,  129, 130. 

Lucy,  the  uilller'a  ilaughtcr,  her  atnry,  317,  318. 

Lucy  nnd  Colin,  a  bnlliul,  by  TlckcU,  73. 

LusiUnia,  the  classic  name  of  t>artugal,  145. 

Luteola,  6S,  note. 

Lutetian,  Parisian  j  Lutclla,  that  is,  Mud-town,  naa  the 
ancient  name  of  Paris,  as  being  on  a  muildy  Ulanil. 

Luxuries  of  the  W.  Indies,  435. 

Luxurious  sin  and  laborious  virtue,  contrasted,  374. 

Lu.\ury,  a  curse  to  the  poor  and  tlie  country,  37  ;  the  ruin 
or  nations,  38. 

Luxury  of  woe,  the,  183  ;  time  the  soother,  183  ;  —  temper- 
ance is  true,  20O  ;  —  and  vice  of  cities,  252  ;<—  and  the 
Hne  arts,  293,  299  ;  —  and  literature,  865. 

Lybian  pastures,  flocks,  prairies,  and  nomades,  220. 

Lycaean,  of  Lycmus,  a  mountain  in  the  soutti-wtst  of  Ar- 
cadia. Jupiter  was  born  on  Its  summit,  and  htul  here  an 
open  air  attar,  with  an  inviolate  precinct,  into  which  if 
one  entered  he  died  within  the  year.  From  it  the  whole 
of  the  Morea  is  visible. 

Lycidas :  a  pastoral  monoily,  by  Milton,  241—243. 

Lydlan,  belonging  to  Lydia,  a  famous  kingdom,  which  in- 
cluded Asia  Minor  to  tlie  Ualys.  Cyrus,  King  of  Persia, 
conquered  it  from  the  rich  Crffisus.  Surdis  was  the 
capital. 

LvTTKLTOs,  Lord  Qboroi!,  a  general  author  niiil  poet,  of 
Hagley,  in  Worcestershire,  near  the  U';isi.nv./,-*  ut'  ^^1.■||. 
stone.    Becomingsecretaryt'tli    i'ii  '     -;  \^  ' 
able  to  benefit  his  literary  fii'     .      i 
In  1741  he  married  Miss  i.u   ,    I  ,    , 

Ave  years  afterwards,  gav.      .-,,,,  -.        .   , 


-rejected  as  pernicious,  by 


Whigs  being 

treasury,  and  afterwards  privy 

of  the  exchequer,  and  a  peer.    He  died  Au;_'ust  22, 1773, 

aged  64.     lie  wri.f^  a  lr,-riti5e  nn  tlie  Conv,-,-,^i..n  of  Paul, 

ahistoryof  Ilfi.'ri  II  II  -  I'l  'i  -n-  t.i  II,  .in-./n's  Co- 
rioianus  isdeeni'^i  I.  !     '      M     iiy. 

Lyttbltox,  or  Ln  1 1         .    >■  l      ' ,  ■  ; ;il  no- 

bis poem  of' the  riv-iL;i  ;  1.  ,■  ,.ii'.i;;  Ml,  111  I  -lui.arts, 
187—190. 

Machinery,  labor-saving,  an  advantage  to  the  operative,  504. 

Mackenzie,  492.  Madder,  British,  66,  and  note. 

M.V.CKNAS,  Virgil's  patron,  address  tn,  2U  ;  another,  222. 


iiig!>,  greens  ;   shelly  ocean  sands  i    ] 
ploiighctl  In  ;  turidps,  01. 
)U»,  272. 
-a,  Lord,  eulogy  of  him,  259,  260. 


in  island  in  the  .Minclo,  a 
tributary  of  the  Po  }  the  poet  Virgil  was  born  at  or  near 
It,  and  is  hence  called  the  '  Mantuan  Swain,'  8. 

Marble,  its  formaUon,  279,  280. 

March,  month  of,  1— 40  ;  —  Spenser's  Eclogue  for,  15.  10. 

March :  an  04le,  by  Bryant,  25  ;  —  husbandry  of,  by  Tusser, 
31.    See  Husbandry. 

Marcley  Hill,  sUding  of,  377. 

Mares,  brood,  care  of,  223;  —  Impregnated  by  the  n-e^it 
wind,  225. 

Maria,  wife  of  Mason,  tribute  to,  161. 

Marian,  Mariana,  or  Maid-Marian,  34. 

Marina,  her  love  and  despair,  155, 156  -,  —  restored  by  wati-r- 
gods,  her  adventures,  156. 

Marjoram,  indicative  of  a  good  house-site,  49. 

Market-night :  a  ballad,  by  R.  Bloomneld,  443. 

.Maill...r"iii.-li,  alluded  to,  70. 

Ml      \     -  1.  named  Publlus  VIrgilius  Maro.    See  Virgil. 

ii  ippy  one,  14  •,  a  selfish  one,  14  ;  — or  no  .Mar- 
■  insion,  Peggy  and  Jenny,  106, 107  j  —  a  pru- 
;   .  ippy  one,  373  ;  — Reuben  and  llachel,  373; — 
I    \l        li.aia  slaves,  441. 

.Maiiiai.'''s ;  a  poem,  forming  part  of  Parish  Register,  by 
Crabbe,  369—374. 

Marry  prudently,  369. 

Mars  and  Venus,  allusion  to,  91. 

Martyrs,  glorious,  474.  Mary,  tti.-  fann-firl,  l'i:>. 

MiSOS,   Wll.l.HM,    I... -11     l7j.-..-lr.l     IT'-;         I  .       .         I  ■        I',. 


i  longest  work  is  the  1 


,  161—184. 

lings  between,  106. 

I  tlie  May,  81. 


•  Seven  Stars,  210 
.nut  loie,  13,— 
-  indiLtsing,  313 


ind  his  worKs 
^  meats  of,  J20  , 
erest,  S88  i  —  In 
-  worship,  470 ; 


M  i\    In    III    kill,  ml  queen,  and  dance,  90; —feast,  de- 

stnbud,  97  ,  —  hiinl}  a-Maying,  by  Dryden,  102. 
Ma>,avvalk  in,  with  Amanda,  8  ;  —  morning,  by  Milton, 

102  ,  —  riign  of    an  ode,  by  Percivnl,  101, 102. 
Maj's  Iluibnndry,  1J3     Sec  Husbandry. 
Mi!\n,  Dk  ,  1  distinguished  physician  and  writer  on  llie 

pi  igut   145  ,  tribute  to  him,  47. 
Ml  ulon  in  spring,  8 

Ml.  iiiiii.!,s  and  disappointment  in  town  life. 
Miais,  avoid  much  In  spring,  201 ;  — IwUed,  when  to  Ik 

used,  49  ,  — bi-st  age  and  condition  of,  for  eating,  19 J  ; 

stnll-ful  eattlL,  unliiallhy,  199. 
Meditation,  haunts  of,  63,  140.    Visionary  world,  the,  140. 
Mech  iiile  the,  and  retired  statesman,  363. 
M   h      \ .  iiui  de,  148  Mediclnals,  British,  66. 

I  Ills  of  Britain,  67. 

t  free,  in  the  country,  268  i  charity,  26S. 
V  liat  localities  produce  it  j  how  prmluced,  4S  •, 
I    R,  240,  241  i  In  autumn,  306,  307  ;  —  as  a 
I      rllled,  302  ;  needs  symi«tllj-,  338. 
Mn      Milt    l...rd,conipllmenle.lbyThoni5oii,135,  and  note. 
MKLKAi.fB     Set  note  on  p.  46. 
Mfi  f  A(.va'<  Spring,  Iraiisialed  by 
Mtila,  a  sniali  ri%      -'  '" 
Mei  rosifsi!,  the 

Mei  >  IL,  OcnernI,  govirnor  of  West  India  islands. 
Memnos,  an  anclint  King  of  Ethiopia  and  Bgypl,  whow 
gmnisuiiue 


•  of  Northern  Italy. 


and  muse  of  Trageily.    S-.v 


Medlnet  Abou,  In  Egypt, 
tlie  Nile.    By  some  amngemenc  of  son- 
stones,  which  expanded  by  heat,  the  sUlue  uHereil      | 
al  sounds  when  first  struck  by  the  rays  of  the 


534 


1  the  vale  of  Cham- 


Ion,  61. 

land,  note,  p.  89. 

,  balls,  &c.,  341  ;  — 


meek-eyed,  136  ; 


lil         ...   111..  Mini  .11^  iii.iiM.i  i.i-iii.    I —111  the  Golden 

M  I  l.iistoral,  153  i  — iisonnet,  liy  Otw,iy,  154. 

.1      .   .       ,  III'.- god  of  sleep  and  dreams  ;  represented  as  an 
I.I.  w  ith  two  large  wings  on  his  shoulders,  and  two 

.M.i.,.  ,11 ., ...  choice,  88  -,  account  of  Moschus,  note,  p.  26. 
Musbi.s,  cullection  of,  282  ;  varec,  lichen,  agaric,  punk  or 

Mostyn,  Mr.,  dedication  of '  Cider  '  to  him,  37V. 

Miitliir's  sl.iiy  '.'f  Sally  Gray,  325—327  ;  —death,  story  of, 


,  412. 


e,  160. 


=■,  49  i  - 

huiv  ti 

fci'd  for 

226, 

:.;,..:il 

S3,  seat, 
ivalk    ho 

pails,  song,  4 

3;  — 
151. 

484. 

e,  wind, 
he  rioK, 

317,313 
V';'-'-|ii' 

,341. 

JiLTUN,  JoHS,  born 
1674.     He  took  the  de-iv,    .       >i    \      .     '       , 

1632,  and  iluriiig  the  next  Iw-   \-.m-'ii niMM  v>i..i' 

Comus,  and  the  poems  at  pp.  ^.;j— J4;^.  in  luio  Ur  m.u- 
ried  Miss  Powell,  who  left  liim  u  untiith  alier.  ^h*:  w- 
turned,  after  two  years,  and,  kneeling  for  pardon,  tlit^y 
were  reconciled,  and  lived  together  till  1652,  when  slie 
died,  and   he   iiniiitdiatrly  Miarrifil   a    second    wife,  and 

ther-.j ■.■.M',>ii   ,iii.i  i:,  ]<■:■]  Piii.h^hed  his  Defence  of 

the  Km.         \-     .      ..  !■..       -     l/.-t  in  1667. 

aiLT('\        I     I     i      ,    '       I    I     I   -  .  111..-  herald  of  a  true 


still  f 


■  Pallas,  also  Pahthenia  (the  virgin), 
risdom  and  tutelar  deity  of  Athens,  ' 
her  temple,  the  noble  Parthenon.     See 


MuWLT,  th-.',  &ij.  Mowing,  by  Dodaley.     See  Haying. 

Mules,  care  of,  431 ;  —diseases  of,  431. 

Mum,  the  Belgians'  drink,  386. 

Muii.lungo,  the  retu-ed  toper,  his  fate  in  the  May-day  fray, 


sheep,  its  symptoms  and 
Ireek  poet  of  great 


e,  67,  I 


antiquity. 
1  chiefly  at  Athens,  and  the  por- 
hich  he  lived  was  called  Museum, 
d  '  museum,'  from  a  theatre  there 
is  given  as  1426  B.  C,  when  his 


ia,  over  comedy,  and  Polymnia, 
,uric.  Pieria,  in  Macedonia,  was 
)Sophically  thoy  were  personifica- 


Mines  of  Britain,  66  ;  coal,  fullers'  earth,  building-stone, 

Ume,  lead,  iron,  66. 
Minister.     See  Pastor  ;  Clergyman  ;  Parson. 
Mirth  ;    a  ymem.     Se*;  L'All.-;;!-..,  2?.9,  210. 
Misa-:ithn-  nn-l  Kv.-vl-r.  ^u-vv  nf,  hv  r.„vp-.,-,  4«1 . 

Miscllifl    ..I    ;,n,i,i.ih  rl,  n    .r,.   ,,■.■-   ;,   i|.  -   ,,.  ..'ih'  .iv,    P-, 


Mole. 


,294. 


Monk'V,  l|.-imi.iiw  iM  Wrst  India  cane-tields,  424. 
Moiioluii^  ,  Li-  1)L'  itv'Jiikd  Hi  t;ardeuiug,  167- 
Monsters  of  the  dt-L-p,  uih'cts  of  love  upon  the,  11. 
Montane,  the  exile,  his  plantation,  423  ;  a  model  of  a  good 

planter,  422,  423  ;   hospitality  of,  423  ;   his  slaves  and 

mules,  423. 


;  ;i  lover  gay  : '  a  song  (xsl),  liS. 
is  a  young  thing  :  '  a  song  (l),  103. 
je  greenhouse,  85. 

ter-nymphs,  beautiful  girls,  deities,  supposed  tc 
mntains,  streams,  and  springs.  They  were  hekl 
eneration  ',  goats  and  lambs  were  sacrificed  te 
li  Iib;itiniis  of  wine,  honey,  and  oil ;  sometimes 

,  iViiit.  (.1-  il.nvers.  were  offered.    See  Nymphs. 


535 


NiRcissra,  9,  and  note  j  —  the  nowcr,  9. 
Native  products  and  fashlonSf  preferable,  272. 
Natural  history  cabinet,  282,  283. 

Nature,  Author  of,  ascription  of  praise  to  Him,  for  veitetable 
life  and  functions,  9  :      ' 


—  study  of,  sometimes  shuts  out  Qod,  81 ;  —  who  truly 
enjoy  Uie  charms  of,  82  ;  —  charms  of,  all  may  share  them, 
86  ;  —  admirable  even  when  not  In  bloom,  86  *,  —  rovlves- 
cence  of,  a  type  of  the  resurrection,  131  -.  —delight  In  in- 
tcrpreting,  137  ■,  —  to  be  mended,  not  made,  161 ;  —  solU 
>  art,  249  i  fh»  to  her 


sailor,  249 ;  —  study  of, 
264  \  —  the  vulgar,  and  the 
Bins,  264  ;  —  forces  of,  put  to 
of,277,278i-l 


Navigation  and  meclKiiiij  .m-,  .I'J-' ,  -  i-i  -lu.-i  i.,  ;.-,  - 
sity,  209  i  —  Britisli,  triumphs  uf,  ;'J4. 

Neajra,  a  uymph. 

Necessity,  mother  of  art,  209. 

Negroes,  West  India,  435 — 441 :  seasoning,  how  to  Ifcep  in 
health,  436 ;  —  marks  by  which  to  buy,  436  ;  females, 
436  i  dirt-eaters,  437  ;  begin  with  easy  work,  437  ;  the 
negroes'  condition,  comparalively,  437  ;  working  hours, 
439  ;  emancipation,  437  ;  diseases  of  negroes,  438  ;  super- 
stitions, 439-,    marriage,  cl"lhing,   huts,  festivals,   441; 

Negro  c<.«l'i   I.    i-  \l\.,  Kl; — dance,  the  great,  441 ; 

—  festiv.i!-  ;.: 

Negro-j-T'ii         \»  I           111;  products  of;  yams,  cas- 

sada,  uri.  .11,  potatoes,  eddas,  calaloo, 

cale,  i:'  ,  w  i' .To-grounds,  limes,  citrons, 

oransi-,     !  i,in.i<lredecacao,440;  guard. 


Ncgro-lmt 
and  tru 
tains;  s 

Nei 


d,  441 ;   their  shade 


lilT.T. 


1  Indies  ;  their  characters  and  uses,  433—441 ;  Congo 
negroes,  GoUi-coast  negroes,  Papaws,  Cormantees,  Mlnnah 
and  Moco  nations  ;  Maudingoes,  Quanzas,  430. 

Nenuphar,  2S2. 

N  EPTCXE,  the  classic  god  of  the  sea  ;  Poseidon  of  the  Greeks, 
brother  of  Jupiter  and  Juno.    He  " 
and  strong,  riding  in  a  chariot  drawn 
hoMin?  in  h\f  hand  a  trident.     Dolphil 


and  Tritons  a 


Newspaper,  457  ;  a  medley  and  map  of  life,  457,  458. 

New  settlers,  162. 

Newton,  his  prison,  6 ;  —  eulogiied,  150  ;  by  Cowper,  82. 

New  World,  intercourse  with  the,  294. 

New  year,  gratitude  and  hopes  of  Giles  for,  449. 

Nieroi,  lake,  404.  Niger,  the,  14.',  143. 

Night  in  the  country,  28 ;— approach  of.  and  darknes-s, 

170;  — of  snmmer.  151,  1.52  ;  — thnn.ler-storm  in,  196  ; 

—  walk  of  (iilus  ;  the  fiiiK-iL-.l  Kh.Mt,  447,  448. 
Nightin^Ml.'.  l-.-.n.  •■.",        'I,     l.r   ,u. .1,330. 
Nightshil  Ndc,  the,  143. 

Niphatc!,    ■       .  ■  ii  I'.  Asia. 

Noble  pi-a^;n II,    \-M  .1.1,  .i..,i   •  i,   Uu,   111. 

Noon:  a  pastcmil.  1*1  ;— shml.'  in,  IT.i;— of  spring,  how 
to  pass  it,  8  ;  —  of  summer,  drives  birds  to  silence  and 
shade,  139,  141 ;  — described  by  Dyer,  76,  77  ;  shade, 
birds,  silence,  thoughts.  77  ;  —retreat,  in  haying,  27. 

Northern  Car,  the  constellation  called  Dipper,  Charles's 
Wain,  Ursa  Major,  Great  Bear,  &c. 

Nortliern  lights,  &c.,  403. 


Northern  Spring :  by  Hon.  and  Rev.  Wm.  Herlwrt,  46. 

November,  369—394  ;— sonnet  for,  by  W.  C.  llryant,  376  ; 
—  to  May,  421. 

'  Now  from  rusticity  and  love  : '  a  song  (xv.),  118. 

Nursery  for  for««t-treC8,  choice,  protection,  seeds,  62. 

NYUPns,  beautiful  females,  whom  tho  Greeks  deemed  to 
anhnate  all  nature,  and  worshipped  as  deities.  Thtise  uf 
the  vales  were  called  Napeiu  ;  of  the  meads,  fielmonlatls  ; 
of  tho  mountains.  Oreads ;  of  the  waters.  Naiads ;  of 
lakes,  LImniads  ;  of  tho  trees.  Hamadryads,  supixisetl  to 
bo  born  and  to  dio  each  with  her  peculiar  tree ;  wood- 
nymi)h8.  Dryads,  presided  over  woods  ;  and  fruit-tree,  or 
tlock-nymphs,  Mellads,  over  gardens  or  flocks  ;  the  sea- 
nymphs  were  culM  Oceanldes  or  Nereids.  Tho  nymphs 
attended  tho  goddesses  and  gods.  The  name  means  a 
■  youthful  bride,'  as  they  were  wived  with  Nature. 
<,use8of,62;— 8 

Oak-groves  and  forests  of  Englani 


63 ;  Dean,  > 


il  on  the  prince,  62,  «« ,  * 

sts,  63  ;  —  sturdy  strength  i 

—  of  Wtodsor  forest,  294. 

i.ls,  M.  Oby  river, 

storms  on  the,  145 ;  typhoons,  < 

rnadoes,  145  ;  —  frith  and  grotto,  178  ;  — 

II ;  alternations  of  sea  and  land,  280  ;  —  Its 

i-iirs,  364  ;  —  wonders,  vegetation,  r 

qiest,  shipwreck  on,  397. 

love's  beguiling : '  a  song  (iv.),  1 


1  wool,  dealers,  carders,  winders,  combers,  fi 


Operative 
506. 

Orange-plant,  of  the  greenhouse,  85. 

Orchard,  one-acre,  385  ;  —  In  autumn,  385  ;  —  proper  as- 
pect for,  west,  with  hills  north  ;  proper  soil  for,  377. 

Orellana,  or  Amazon,  143. 

Orion,  the  beautiful  constellation  in  the  centre  of  which  Is 
■" Welt,  or  three  stars,  23. 


Orinoco, 


U-i. 


Oriiii 


nta,  177, 178  i  enduring  taste 


noble  thoughts. 

have  been  a  priest  1 
)rpheu9  and  Eurydit 


rrupted,  but  is  allowed  to  have  bail 
mi  not  long  before  1184  B.  C,  and 
i|iollo  and  Calliope.    Ue  seems  to 
riest  from  India.   Sec  ArisUsua  ;  Eurydlce. 
story  of,  235,  236  ;  tuneful  grief ; 
visits  Hades  for  his  wife  ;  returning,  he  looks  back,  and 
she  is  lost ;  her  touchhig  farewell,  235,  236  ;  bis  despair 

Osier,  uses  of,  62. 

Ossa,  a  mountain  of  Thessaly.  See  Pellon.  Tempe  had 
Olympus  on  one  side,  and  Ossa  on  the  other.    See  Tempe. 

Otter,  the,  his  ravages,  29  ;  —  hunt  of,  by  Somcrville,  351, 
355  ;  habits,  354  ;  tracke^l  to  his  lair  ;  music  uf  tJie  chase  ; 
takes  to  water,  speanxl,  355, 

Otway,  Thomas,  of  brilliant  but  melancholy  history  ;  tmm 
1651,  son  of  a  clergyman,  educated  at  Oxford.  In  1672 
he  was  an  actor,  and  wrote  three  tragedies  ;  and  after- 
wards enlisted  as  cornet,  but  was  cashiered^  and  always 
in  poverty.  He  wrote  Calus  Marclus  ;  the  Orphan  ;  Ventee 
Preserved.  On  the  Inst  his  fame  rests.  After  starving, 
he  hastily  swallowed  bread  of  charity,  had 


Otway's  Morning  :  a  sonnet,  154. 

Ouse,  a  river  of  E  England,  ruinilng  N.  into  the  Wash. 

Out-door  life,  health,  happiness  cheerful  prayer,  356. 

Ox,  and  the  plague,  227  ;  age  for  working,  21. 

Pack  of  hounds,  how  to  breed,  kennel,  and  manage,  346. 

Paclflc  influence  of  Britain,  204,  295. 

PiEstan,  belonging  tc 


fever,  ami 


536 

PA                               INDEX.                                  PI 

Painted  fences,  taw  Iry,  ic  ,  169  ,  hoiv  to  1 1  e|  ii  i  th    i  i  nt  , 

Pittv   the  milkmail,  56,  68  ,  described  ,  her  story,  66,  67  , 

olive  tints  best ,  efft,ot  of  paint  compaiid  t     i  m    t   I'O 

.niriii,e  with  Ihvrsis,  66  67  ,  hei  milking,  68  ,  butter 

the  L  t   l"ll 

Pd.    11     1         11 

1                     1       1 

1  "i'  "r "  ""■""'"  '"*■  'u^' 

Pilci                1 
Pali             1 

i"     ' 

1      1       1  1            1        1                 1  1     1     nil    fiiends,  th 
1       1            1            1      1                   1    1                        .  s    — dcith 

thl'lCL    tl  1    u    1 

I 

Pillas,  the  Gi     k 

t 

Pallene  a  peni 

dm,  laikej       1 

gloand 

4 

Palmetti  inl  W   I 

llld     tlces    44U      1 

PAV(all)   tie  impel 

nitun  cf  llie,i 

nd  Kraiell^  sril  good  for  378 

he\  "'l     "  'Ttl 

tl  ibates  were  s  ei  \ 

1     f  she,  he,  1           1 

1          1          1   "thenrble''lje!itint™4i'o  411  1  — 

itslefes  nil      1       tisl     ,1 

^1  I     ,  Mil            1  the  peisint  poet    63  ,    peasant  s  nest, 

li  1 

1    hnram  Uoc   sumi  ante  1  Ij 

h 

.U,sjimx  iiruideinpipc 

248 

1    1  lentlelUhs    J  ine  1  s  de  1  y 

Peisantiy,  a  manly,  irrenewable  36,    e\ded  by  luxury. 

1  niscible,  bntgoodnituiel 

ind  li   II      Ills  n  J 

shii  Ln^inaledm  Aicadia      Note,  p 

11                    I                        11                      tn    21, 

Pan,  music,  attubu 

es,  pipe  allegory  of,  58 

1                                                                                     21 
1                                                                           1        110 

PASupb,  theNeieids 

invoked  by  aailois     See  Nymphs 

laiaivs   th     thcbes 

of  the  lices  of  negioes,  43b 

Pipp  ,    fBitiin  06 

Pel    11    1  1  1  ,,      1  in    1  itiin,  il  ,  ^  ,  „  t    t  the  east  coast  of 

P   1  hi  in  1  el  n„in„  t 

Paplns  a  town  of  Cypiiis,  firajus  for 

XhLssily      llie  feiauts  in  their  battle  with  the  g  ds,  piled 

this  mountain  on  Mt  Ossa,  and  both  on  Olympus 

PtLops,  srn  of  Tantalus,  King  of  Phrygia,  who  killed  the 

Piiil         It     1  il 

infant  Pelop>i   and  sei  ved  him  up  foi    food  to  the  gods  , 

Pa      1                 1 

1      -  Milton's 

only  a  bit  of  his  sh  uUei  was     iten,  which  nas  leplaced 

a 

byivmj    wjien  h    wis  lest  lel  to   hfe      Tintalus  was 

Pau 

punished  nib  II   bj  |    i|    tu  1  Ihnst  with  a  cup  of  water 

Pan 

hipel 

evei  betore  hmi   iih    h  tantalized  him  by  evei  eluding  his 

grisp 

Pai 

1,,    s'and 

Peneus,  a  river  of  Thessaly     See  note,  p  17 

luin"         1 

,  1  ,  hii- 

Penthecs,  note  on,  452 

PtEcnAL,  James  G  ,  poet  and  geologist     Born  at  Berlin, 

gnili 

-Kous- 

Connecticut,  where  he  spent  most  of  his  life  in  literary 
diudgery  beneath  his  abilities       Ills  1    n  il  Giole  is  one 

Pill  h  I 

of  the  must  thdinii,,-    i,,I  i    ,^    ,    I      i,]t,\e  pieces  of 

Pan  II   1 

,    ,     1  "isiu  in,  iud  whist- 

fancy  in  my  langu  u                                   '  ,1     he  studied 

pill 

medicine,  bee inie  in    ,                                    ,1,    army,  and 

Pans),  1           1      11 

1  1  ilii.e,  ObO— o74,— 

pioftssi.i  ofihemistM                                   1         iiiMyedCon- 

l!i|ili  1 

II  .tiiut  iii.Mli  ,  ,     1,,        1      ,    ,  ,      1       1,1     luthority; 

Pill  II  1 

'          ,,l      1  1     ,     1    i,niii„   th     ul_iiih    innounces  his 

Pirn  1 

1                hil 

1                Mn,101,  102,  — Spiing,  52 

Parm  1  1 

d,  1 

-1      1  1,    ,    ,     ,  1    ,  ,1  [ 

1                                     ,',  r  1,1  Ilisind,  who,  bybiibmgthe 

,              ,                  II        1  ,,,  I  1     1,  lie  of  the  inlieritance  ; 

t 

,„  11  ul  littis,  but  his  d^ath 

W   1 

,iiiL,oce.sionedbytheloss  of 

1    1 1  11  h   him   how  to   seek 

»      '  '     ,                                          11  life  of  industry 

Pai  Ml 
Pll.  n        , 

-'    "i,",','i,  .-  n     n,     T„ 

III                           1                       1     ,liiiikiii„  water  after 

Pii'ii 

" 

1                                                            1     ,      J-  1 

PaithM 

1                  1        '    V 

2.''' 
K  II, 

,'    .ua,Lk':p„n 

1   ^^;^  "'      '"    '       '      '<'  "    '"1  1  M'loits,  404, 

Pcttj'  imbitions,  o21           I  he  is  ml,  4o  ,  de  Uh  of  one,  292. 

Piiliil 

1         II 

Phebe  D  iwson,  the  Tillage  belle,  hei   lovei    fill,  man  iage. 

P  1111!   1 

and  miseiv,  370,  o71  ,  fly  tempt Uion,  371 

Piss,   n 

Piiiiiis,    lulls,  h. Ill    Hampton,   Oxfoidshue,  1676  ,    died 

Past  Ml 

1""        1  il    1    1        111   ited  and  well  connected,  he  counted 

Past,  1 

1    n.e   araon„   his   fueiids      He  wrote 

Past  „  , 

lul  Hulling    md  Cidei,  pp    J77— 391. 
1                                       u  to,  by  Cowpcr    83  ,  —  in»  ocation 

311- 

4111.      1                 , 

.,    >'    4  ',     4s,             "       "'    ' 

It,,,      ,                1  liiumted,  97,  — 'CidLi     '  a  poem  in 

Past!  II, 

1     -  IJ  ,    \ll„llsLelj„ui.s  PIPI-S, 

Plnllid I'lud  Lm\ doii'    a  ballad,  by  Bieton,  129 

pi  n 

Philomel,  Philomela,  a  classic  name  foi    the  mghlingale, 

Pa^t, , 

iiiliion,  his  hirlh,  business,  and 

note,  p  9 

Past  III 

Philosophei.ruial,  his  happiness,  220     S,  i  Counliv  Oeu- 

Pastil, 
PasV, 

'    '    '"^         „ 

Philosophyof  nature,  accoidingln  111    II             ,    -        I'.io- 
cuius,  64,  — pmseof,  lo2,—  .  i 

81,  82,  — aposliophe  to,  151,     n                              ,  ,y, 

Pitii.ii  ,      1  ^ 

1,   "I'h,  97, 

aits  ,  guides  society,  e\ploies  1,    ,,,,     ,          ,    i       ,  ,  \- 

,  1  1    1,.,-    1  1    ,  1   Muiiius,  269, 

plains  man,  162  ,    its  limits,  152  ,  —  liees  i      li   lu  opii'. 

2bO,-l(,itisli,4T 

itual  death,  474 

Pall  lot's,  thi.,  pi  ijel 

"fin  his  counti  ^ ,  151 ,  —  vii  tues,  161 , 

PaffiBDb,  the  Gieek  name  of  Apollo  ,  the  sun     See  Apollo. 

patuots  aieglouou 

3,474 

Picnic,  the,  282 

587 


Piclore,  homely,  of  a  sterile  region  ;  he«lh,  sand,  weeds  i 
simile  ofthe  garish  prostitute,  255,  '266. 

Pigeons,  57  i  —  In  the  flirra-yard  in  spring,  11. 

Pilcwort,  133.  Pilgrim's  Progiess,  318. 

Pindus,  an  elevated  ridge  seiuiratlng  Tbeasaly  from  Eplriu. 

Pine-apple,  421.        Pinks,  9. 

Pipes,  ploughs,  poetry,  266. 

Pirate-ship  compared  to  MopsA,  09. 

Plague,  the.  Its  origin  and  effects,  146, 146  ;  Ethiopia,  Cai- 
ro, putrid  locusts  ;  cITects  on  prince,  judge,  trader,  city, 
prisoner,  146;  gcnend  seinsiiness,  145,  140;  despair, 
146  ;  —  English,  sweating,  of  the  14lh  century,  342.    See 


Plants,  their  infinitude,  6 ;   uses  ' 


mcrica,  143. 
10U3 ;  adultery, 

II.'.-,  -im 


erent  to  others'  woe, 

■  Ocean-nymph, 
r  changed  them 
11  Stars  i  it  is  In 


nodcn  one,  20 ; 
allows,  rotation, 
lorsewel!  cared 


Plcto,  the  suljterranean  Jove,  god  of  the  lower  world,  k 

of  the  dead  ;  notes,  3,  p.  26,  and  1.  p.  21. 
Poet,  at  noon,  Ul  ;  whv  h»  Kokf  retirement,  366,  .%1 ; 


263. 
Poisons.  ,M,-   i  .    .  ,      ,j.      r  •  ,    \',    I     ; 

Polar  ri'^i  ..    .     :..]  -'■■■■■    !  .:.  I      ,     :,  I  .,  w;,   1  '  ■. 

Political    iMiiiil ,   11    •!  ••■    ill  III    t..^!..i   1.1     i"l''"  I  1  ;    -I    : 

pi-ofligatcs,  ST  ;  idols.  4S:J. 
Politicians  satirized,  457  ;  demagogues,  457. 
Politics  and  rural  peace  contrasted,  27. 
Polly  Kaynor,  crasy,  her  story,  .■i32,  xa  ;  pr.-iyer,  .^•i3. 

singing  and  rlnln .      i     i    n,  !   .i  i    i,i . 


summer,'  an  eclogue,  i\ 
-  Universal  Prayer,  134  ; 


Popx,  Ids  censure  of  stllT,  fomial  ganlens,  165, 106  ;  —  ded- 
ication to,  187 -,— alTectlonate  compliment  to,  400;  — 
■  Messiah,'  101,  102  ;  —  MiUual  Dependence,  330  j  — 
eclogue,  198  i —  ' Universal  Onkr,' 30« ; 
■'■■  -Windsor  Forest, '201— 206. 
cturing,  IKI6  ',  —  Leeds,  606. 

Porto  Santo,  a  town  of  St.  Christopher,  W.  I. 

I'ortraiu  of  Poverty  as  It  Is,  by  Crabbe,  317— 32'2. 

I'ORl'S,  King  of  N.W.  India,  in  330  B.  C.  Alexander  coo- 
qucreit  him,  and  gave  him  back  additional  territory. 

Posies  presented  U^  their  loves  by  shepherds,  168. 

Post-horse,  Ills  mlsc'rles,  447. 

Postman  and  budget,  457. 

Poultry,  before  the  barn  In  the  morning,  70  -, —  feeding,  in  a 
winter  morning,  468  ;  — yard,  57;  |>eac<ick,  turkey, 
geese,  ducks,  pigeons,  67  ',  —  yard  in  spring,  11  j  —  yard, 

PocrssiM,  the  famous  French  landscape  painter,  163 

Poverty,  rustic,  relieved,  368  \  —  oppressions  of  by  wealth, 
66  I  poverty  as  it  is,  355—260,  316—322,  369-374,  407— 
415  i  —  its  rhyme  and  reason,  255. 

Power,  place,  and  cares,  263  ;  city  cares  and  country  peace, 
263. 

Praise  of  seclusion  and  retirement,  86. 

Praise  to  the  Almighty  Father,  137,  482.  See  God  ;  Na- 
ture J  Psalms  i  Hymns. 

Prayer  for  national  iience,  love,  charity,  truth,  courage, 
temperance,  chastity,  industry,  public  spirit,  151  ;  —  of 
Prince  AMolonvmn*.  171  i  — for  Great  Britain's  health, 
3W  ;  —  Kurlv  .M..iiiii.-.  :i  hymn,  by  Vaughan,  244. 

I".--   r.  Ill  -.  I-  I"  ir     'I  •'  ■<     '11.  nnle,  pp.  a'i  478. 


scytli'?  ill  hi;*  hiiiid.      inri^roi*  ..f  liim,  often  obscene, 
pliiced  in  ganlens,  with  bells  attached,  for  i 

Pride,  its  reasonings  false  and  guidance  ruinous,  473 ',  — 
manlv,  of  the  labnrtT,  256. 

Primrok-,  8  ;  — in  si.ri.ii;,  132. 

IVinr,  .1  w  ii    ,  II    1  1  >'s  Agriculture  inscribed  to,  5& 


iini  not,  333,  334  ;  —  released,  1 
1  in  the  ne.«  worM,  405. 


Muses.    Veiled 
PoMO.SA,  a  Romii) 


story  in  Ovid. 

Ponds,  lakes,  rivers,  in  gardening,  176  ;  —  artitlcial,  use  of 
in  correcting  unhealthy  dryness,  49. 

Pontus,  a  region  on  the  south  shore  of  the  Black  Sea,  208  ; 
famous  for  poisons  and  its  king  Mithridates. 

Poor,  the  self-denying,  10  i  — herded  in  cities,  37;  causes 
and  effects  of  it,  37,  38  ;  —  relation  of  the  poor  and  rich, 
196  ;  too  much  separate<I,  196  ;  — consequent  feelings  of 
the  poor,  196, 197  ;  — aggravations  of  their  lot,  256  ;  — 
causes  of  their  misery,  317;  — abodes,  317;  — the  vi- 
cious poor  described  (Crabbe),  316,  317  ;  — corrupting 
habits  of;  317  ;  the  poor  in  wlnl 
vices  of,  461,  462. 

Poor-house,  English,  257,  258. 

Pops,  Ai.BXANDKR,  born,  London,  -May.  IGS^ 
enham.  May,  1744.  Son  of  a  im'  ii,!r,|. ,,  i, 
up  a  Roman  Catholic.    Ilii*  1i  i  ' 


the  Ode  on  SoUtude ;  his  al 
printed  in  1700  ;  the  Messiah 
1714  ;  and  the  Prayer  (134),  i 


Ti    III        .1  Ki  .         '.-.  'u.    Sec  Britain. 
li  I  ;  .  Ill,  in  four  eclogues,  by  I^ttelton, 

1  ;  1 ,  IS7  ;  Hope,  187,  188  ;  Jealousy, 

i--     ■  ■     r    .    -I  11.  isii,  190. 

II.  riiati if  life  and  death, 204 ;  — spiritual, 

I  ivorable  to,  360. 

I  IV  lie  should  live  in  the  country,  203,  264. 
I  1  I'BBSKPIIOSK,  daughter  of  Ceres  and  Jupi- 

;   I       -  I     ivai  gathering  flowers  in  the  field  of  Ennn,  81c- 
il\-,  w1r-ii  Pluto  seized  her,  carried  her  down  to  lladcs, 
and  made  her  his  queen. 
Prospect,  from  the   mountoln  top,  widening,  75  ;  —  from 
Grongar  Hill,  77  ;  —  an  English,  described  (Cowper),  'Hb ; 
sheep,  hay-cart,  woodbinds  ;   ash,  lime,  beach,  'i48  }  — 
a  rural,  247  ;  —  how  to  show  one,  163. 
Prosperity  of  states,  vicissitudes  in,  499. 
Prostitute,  child  of  the,  310.  Prostitution,  80. 

Proteus,  the  sliejihenl  of  the  seas,  his  cave,  henis  of  seals, 
•  -at,  234,  235  ;  story  of  Orpheus,  '236, 


Providence,  man's  criticism  of,  presumptuous,  138  ;  the  fly 

on  the  dome,  13S  ;  — the  Divine,  147  ;— unexplained  to 

this  life,  152;    providences  have  siieclol  reganl  to  our. 

spiritual  progress,  468. 
Prudish  spinsu-r,  story  of;   house,  flnery,  peta,  avarice, 

410. 
Pruning,  83 ;  —  of  applc-trces,  lime  of,  380. 
Psahn  -Xl.X.,  of  David,  imitated  by  AddUoii,  134  ;  .\.\in., 

by  Addison,  78  ;   VIII.,  by  Merrick,  40;    XLII.,  1,  by 

Quaries,  358. 
Psalms  of  I'raise,  for  April,  78  ;  Slay,  134  ;  June,  191, 192  ; 

SeptcmlK-r,  330  ;  October,  35«  ;  November,  SM. 
Public  applause,  hollow,  09  ;  — benefactors,  271 ;— spirit, 

iU  trmmi.hs,  501. 
I'  ill   n      ill.  lliorough,  ofsoils,  necessary,  268. 
r  .1       ,  ■  III.  ilv  and  now,  80. 
I         1        1,1  lie  jdillosopher,  Ixim  on  the  IsUind  of  Samoa, 

I       i        1.1  II  6U8  and  466  B.C.,  p.  7,  anil  note.   Hemark- 

ii  I    II   III  I  liildhood,  he  sought  knowledgcin  Ionia,  Plic- 


I       nicia,  Knypt,  whi 
I       iu  Persia  and  I 


538                                RE                                 INDEX.                               KU 

Southern  Italy    H  s  doctr  nes  blend  i  pol  tics  and  rel  gion 

tauhnl^tnenc    fi  m  (i  bl    in  In     1    n  ich  of  numbeia 

elusion    praise  of  86    —  self  imi  rovement  self  content 

10—8  ught  by  the   dsipioitel   statesman    363    — 

lauous  motives  t      tl  e  p  et  «   tl  e  1       is      jl     choice    f 

bocks  1     365    it)       frienlshii  11    obb  , —forbids  not  tl  e 

1                                                                         i    din 

hvhest  usefulne  s  4s6 

Retiement      i  p  em   ft  m  Talle  Talk   ly  W   Cowler  359 

L  "  1   '     1                                                                Ehza 

-306 

11                     1                                             1       1    pT..l.r 

Ret  red   tite  man     h     ru  al  c  n  pinions     the  mechanic 

anl    1          1                                                  lie  ebi  oused  the 

can              1                                               It     death  1  y  the 

R  ti     rect    n   exctedU  n  1    c   4 

oil    n              II                                    1          hedinl645(see 

Reul         ml  R     liar"'     t    1    m   miinge      their 

eMa        ,1      1                                      11     the  dan  ns  of 

til  It  inlimfoit     3  i     lket»      til  li  elms  3  3 

plel  e        1    1        u        u    1  r  (1                 it  la  believed    of 

R  111   the  after  a  f  x  chase    discr  bed  302    —  Mij  Day 

QciRLt       U  1  „ht  in  C  d   102    —  Psalm  \ul    1     ton  ing 

Reiey  indthouglt  365   —  a  lepose  of  themind  460    — 

aft  r  t     1    351    —  P  ilm  XL  I    .      L  ng  ng  to  see  God 

leiti  es  of  a  spi  ngmoin  8 

330 

Reii  esce  le  of  fwests  a  type  of  rain's  131 

Qute     \                 1  1             II      Pope  2'»2  .94      See  Anne 

Rl    dimmth   the  just  ce      s]  eech   94    95    -arrests  Hob 

Que                                            10    —hir  throne  99 

Rljmeanlre1\°°fp  iiily   256 

Q                                                       »     SO 

Kl  I  me  1  |e  s  ns  foi  Julv    244    —  for  August  296 

I    1 

1         1        —  the  r  relation      feelings  of  the  pool,  196 

1                 1      111  sstorv   321 

1     1      CM  lots  390 

11          1        the  vallei     f  tl  e  TI  irae^  Fn^land  149    —  as 

1      111  \  1    me  4b    —             1        111          1  h  11  land 

f 

sci|e    144      Lo  d        14        1      1           11  \\      Iso     18- 

Rake                                                           1 

R    1  \     n  1  s  m  ly     R                ]             1          M  1      i  s  death 

Ran    1                                                      1      05     wished  ly 

b 

Ramll                              -     1      1              .40    —  evenn„   of 

1    11    1              1    ,                        1         i                       1  fe  of  one 

lo%ei»    U3 

Rimll       1    1    rtDn"!  r  st  n     f  411   41. 

I 

Ram  a\    \\l\s    rh    e    verv  1  u           n    V  in  imperiona 

1                                                                                   s 

ti  n    f^  ott    hwnerya    1                    1         1              L 

1 

aikslue    wheie  h  s  fath  r                                                       \ 

flfte  n  lewis  appientc  1                                 1 

1                                                                                                  — 

and  dd  1  ot  commence  w 

Ofve       ir     iHlnethel    ^1 

- 

al"'    l'    '                '      II 

1       1  l'  dlt  -ll  „1    .  4             1 

h' 

1     W  C    Bryant,  261,-useofin 

Igel 

1                                                 '          4 

Raji  Al  s  Gentle  bhepherd  103— l.i>  ,  — Kichy  and  ban 

d\    u  b    —  s  n„s      See  Sings 

11                                                 In   J.-„4 

Rank   It     lisgustin"  accompaniments   58 

1                                                             4 

Ranui  L  III      8 

11                      1                            1       411   41 

Raphael  163     1                       111 

K               11                1 

Rats  desti  uct  ^                                     1       to  desti  oy  them  , 

K                    ■SA        tL      1      1        1                                                                                         \ 

cat      snakes                       1                   1  ine    nightshade 

424 

tl    f       d  t    1         111 

Reah   a        a     1                                   I            ivania  m  1822 

II                                                             1          d  devoted  h  m 

at  1  s  death     His  ho  1  t  1  V       1  1           1                      \ 

sell                                                              1     1  in  Boston  his 

h  lu  tible      He  was  conte  ui    1   1 J  w  tli  somi  or  the  m  st 

L                                                                 lleNewPdatolal, 

d  sti  oUsled    people   anl   events   in  hstij     and   hist 

i,  1  eued  as  an  autho.  in  1  bb  at  the  same  tmie  ivitli 

KtA^'i                             11             1             1     416 

111                                  t5    —  ItlhanCot  324 

f "  1         '      1^    -1    Ilk    tt  Ilesiodon,  21   —health, 

1                            1                                      Rot  and  worms  obi 

11    ,      1                 f    111       1»   19d 

1                                                                   221,  — worthies  of 

Pal            1             1 

14                                          11           4 

1 

Rel                                                                   M   3S. 

1                                                        1  ^  irgm  and  founder  of 

Ren                                                              II       1  n    1J7 

Rli                                                                        3 
Ref 

1                                                           1       n  sp  n„    11     looks 

k'"",'.,"'""            i'        '   ',       i.'l  jui.r,elftoit,  239,  340. 

U  ■     II    ■     i:       ■  i     .'  1.  1  •,   1.,  ■. Id,  74. 

l!                i                             .1.0.  Percival,  101,  102. 

''i:''..!'''t'i,  •,'!'"  hi' i,';'i.i  «r.'i'i,:j„',.;s,3i6. 

i;„«  .,1  ,  r.M  ....1,.,  l,.:,v  I,.  ,n:i;,:,--  ii.  landscape,  164  ■,    Sid- 

l:.  ;,_;  :,,  .111  ,  :  ,     1  ,:  r  ..n.[  of  joy  and  moral  pleasures, 

1^'  '..  -'"'''  >   ■  -1'  "l"",v  1 1;.  1114. 

l;!,'-        "    '   •      11     !.iil''.rihtli'e'New  Forest,  290. 

autumn,  211. 

l: lastle,  abbey,  104  ;- in  Wales,  77. 

Eeminisoences  of  CIimhilti  ,  .inlni^.m,  ivicy,  Yi  hite,  Lennox, 
Remorse,  effects  of,  312.                Kepentance,  13, 

Km                               ■    .   ■   ..il,    iSl. 

Kul-.l  !s|,o',ls  ■,  angling,'  fowling,  hunting  :  a  poem,  by  John 

Respect   to  Age :    an  eclogue,  by    Willi.am  lirowne,  487, 

liay,  27—31. 

Rural  mirth  and  manners,  gone,  36. 

Resuii-ection,  the,  a  symbol  of,  131 ;  the  general,  131. 

Rural  happiness,  ot  a  young  couple,  described  by  Gay,  31  ) 

by  Ooldsmlth,  3S  ;  — Odes  for  April,  61- 
iii(li|icMiili!nce,  68  i  —  Dallnda  for  April,  11—'!*  ; - 
ciilculiitwl  to  soothe  and  elevate,  82-,  — life,  11 


Seasons,  Thomson's,  Spring,  3— U ;  Summer,  136—162  ; 
297-310  i    Winter,  396— J06i—chanKeil   by 
",  persoulfled,  69  ] 


utumn,  297- 
e  flood,  0  ;  - 


quiet  and  hopes,  273 


Pope,  Gesuer,  267  i  Polish 
and  note,  p.  289  ;  —  Poetry, 
for,  284—289  ;  —  retiremem, 
—  scenes.  Cooper's  Uill ;  I)> 


60. 


;iiid  Its  genius  :  note,  496. 
nont  of  the  country,  263,  264. 


rl.  ,    ,v  J>  S:ipphire,  137. 

ill;:,  rfCliiiiii'-'fi,  ■JT4  ;    sand-spouts, 
dvantages  and  disadvantages  -,  hon 


)  better  i 


Sangs,  Scotch,  in  the  Gentle  Shepherd,  I.,  103  i  II.,  103  ; 
III.,  106  i  IV.,  106  ;  v.,  106  ;  VI.,  107,  108  ;  VII.,  108  ; 
VIII.,  103  ;  IX.,  103,  110  ;  X.,  Ill,  112 ;  XI.,  112  ;  XII., 
11-2  :  XIII.,  114  i  XIV.,  116  ;  XV.,  118  ;  XVI.,  120  ; 
XVII.,  122  i  XVIII.,  122  i  XIX.,  12i  ;  XX.,  124  ;  XXI., 


School-children,  various 


b>  Delille, 
and  destinies  of,  209, 


Schoolmistress,  the  good,  320 ;  —  a  poem,  by  Shenstone,  611. 

Scotch,  the,  305  ;  glossaries  of  Scotch  words,  28  ;  186  ;  336  ; 
617,618. 

Scotland,  described,  306  j  her  resources,  306. 

Screens,  best  trees  for  \  shrubs  better  ;  pines,  thorn,  holly, 
box,  privet,  pyracanth,  173. 

Scudamore,  Lord,  381.  Scythe,  66. 

Scythians,  403  ;  the  armory  of  Providence,  403, 

•     " dilccs,  meadows,  pas- 
vicious,  described  ;  smugglers,  in- 
stead of  '  happy  swains,'  268. 

Sea-shore,  fashionable  migration  to,  364  ;  ocean,  364  ;  — 
humid  marshes  near,  occasion  dropsy,  palsy,  gout,  ague, 
scurvy,  catarrh,  48  i  —sen-cliff,  a  landmark,  260. 

Season,  the  :  a  ballad,  by  Thomas  Hood,  367. 


Sensible,  the  most  so,  a 
September,  .ISl. 
Serpents,  tr-'picjil.  144. 


;  happiest  and  most  virtuous,  463 
i^t;vi.'rn.  legend  of,  note,  496. 


;i,...:,   -    ,   ,  .   I  'I  I    M  shear,  494,  496;  festivities; 

(1.11:.,  |.i  1  I  H  ..  I  .ur,  496.    See  Sheep. 
iheep,  ti-iiiliii«  "f,  ;U;  — feeding;  need  variety,  and  are 

fond  of  changing,  44  ;  —  and  shepherds,  in  spring,  44  ;  — 

husbandry,  489,  496,  67,  68  ;        --  •    • 


le  (splendid),  the  Saxon 

Hales  Owen,  Shropshire,  England,  Nov.,  1714  ;  died  Feb. 
11, 176J.  He  was  taught  to  read  at  a  dame  school,  and 
has  Immortoliied  his  preceptress  in  his  poem  of  the 
Schoolmistress,  pp.  511 — 513.  He  w: 

In  1746  the  paterni 

care,  and  he  began,  says 

pects,  to  diversify  his  surface,  to  entangle  his  walks,  i 


euvy  of  Uie  grea^ 
of  the  skilful ;  a  phice  to  be  vlsiuid  by 
travellers,  and  copied  by  designers.'  Dodsley  and  Oold- 
sraith  have  both  written  descriptions  of  the  U-asowes. 
Cut,  p.  60. 

Subsstosb'3  eclogues, '  Hope,'  IM  ;  '  Absence,'  406 ;  'Dis- 
appointment,' 406  ;  —Schoolmistress  :  a  iwem,  611. 

Sbksstonb  complimented  as  a  landscape  gniJeucr,  by 
Mason,  166  ;  —  address  to,  by  Grainger,  424. 

Shepherdess  gathering  flowers,  314. 

Shepherd,  136 ;  —  and  milkmaid,  returning  from  work,  161. 

Shepherd  and  his  Wife  :  an  ode,  by  R.  Greene,  610. 

Shepherd's  Life:  an  idyl,  by  P.  Fletcher,  488;  — Eve,  by 
J.  Fletcher,  368  ;  —  song,  by  Hey  wood,  130  ;  —  boat-song, 
314 ;  —  dancing-song,  168  ;  —  boy,  363  ;  his  freedom,  368 ; 


Shepheri 


r^i^ 


e  for,  170  ;  —  piping,  sliiep,  77. 
ih,  11 ;  67  ;  493,  494 ;  — classic ;  Aimblau, 
Wan,  Scythian,  Thrncian,  Crimean,  Danublao, 
of,  for  leisure  hours,  492;  — holiday  of; 
1, 167  ;  music  and  sweethearts  of,  167  ;  song, 


ens,  poa 
ts,  386; 


,168. 


540 


Shetland  and  the  Hebrides,  flocks,  birds  of,  305. 
Shooting  stars,  152.  Shore-fisliing,  29. 

Shore,  wasted  by  the  sea,  and  deserted,  256. 
Showers,  vernal,  brouglit  by  south  wind  ;  —  fertilizing:,  i 

April; — clearing  up,  5  ; — in  torrents,  in  West  Indit 

420.     See  Rain. 
Ship  foundering  in  a  tropical  storm,  145. 
Ship-building,  British,  294. 
Shipping  of  Kngland,  ports,  London,  490. 
Shipwreck  146  •  397  •  —  on  the  coasts  of  the'Sahara  It 

—  of  Ne    na  and    escue   18   19 
Shrul  lev     a  monolo  ue  by  Co  v]  er  "90 


S  I  e      Algernon   eulo    zed   150 

Signs  of  a  plentiful  season,  609  ;  observe 

ers,  210  ;  —  of  heat,  rain,  wind,  dry  ; 

storm,  211,  212. 


Sin,  originated  f 

480. 
Singers  of  Pasto 


Major }  supposed  to  be  the 


Sisvi'iii  -,  -.11  .  1  l;.h[.,  iinil  founder  of  Corinth. 
witteil  Heath  several  limes.  For  this  Pluto 
him  to  roll  a  stone  up  hili,  which  constantly  recoiled. 

Sites  for  homes,  best,  48.  Skiddaw,  Mt.,  172. 

Skimmings,  use  of,  433. 

Skin,  make  it  not  too  delicate  ;  Scythian,  Pict,  339. 

Sky-lark,  the,  194.  Sky-larking,  30. 

Sky  of  autumn,  blue,  cool,  golden,  297,  298. 

Slave  clothing,  441  -,  — code,  should  protect 
o,  441  i  — marriage 


Slaves, 


341)'  i  - 


West  India 

ed  to  be  happy,  437. 

I'.iwper),  470  j  —to 

1  ..ating  late  at  night, 
I  .Ireams  5  —  noon-day, 
.49,  341  ;  —  of  vegeta- 


f  ;  civil  liberty  ; 
of  friends,  400. 


y,  clayey,  loamj 
-  every  kind  got 
e,  417,  418  i  - 
properties  of,  69,  60. 


Soils,  should 
208;  — nat 

dark,  41^  , 


Solar  system,  136.  Soldier,  Roman,  226. 

Soldiers  of  the  cross,  children  to  become,  133. 
Soliloquy  of  .\lcander  over  Nerina's  corpse,  183  ; 


Solitude,  i 
ences,  2 
333;  — 


and  inconveni- 
-  grateful  in  youth,  267  ;  —  and  liberty, 
without  friendship,   365  ;  —  use  and 


May 


ged. 


Song  of  Spring:  an  ode,  by  Rufus  Dawes,  101, 

Song,  Shepherd's :  by  Heywood,  130. 

Song  of  Wooing  :   an  idyl,  by  Bryant,  159. 

Songs,  in  'Gentle  Shepherd.'     See  Sangs  ;  also  their  first 

lines  in  this  Index. 
Sonnet  for  November  :  by  Bryant,  376. 
Sophy,  the  Shah  or  King  of  Persia. 
Sorrow,  for  the  i.ivf-l  ami  li..ii..rcd  de.'id,  261 


South  Amerit 

2S5. 
S.nip-S  niien 


fPope 
i  of,  143  ;  —  compared  with  European, 


1  by  Mason,  166. 

ligious  rites  in  ;  Hesiod's 

indicated  by  the  stars  ; 


:  mind  contrasted  ;  on  insect, 


541 


sage,  and  poet,  2&i  ;  —  active  pleasures  of  ;  bcalth,  1265  ) 
—  its  rural  sports,  2S;  — coming  of,  descrilicd,  42;  — 
coining  forth.  44  ;  —  iu  amusements,  266  ;  —  bird-life  In, 
13'j,  133  ;  —  the  smile  of  Qod,  11  ;  —  eflects  of,  on  man, 
13—14  j  on  the  benevolent,  sick,  pious,  12  i  —  forest- 
flowers  of,  132  f  —  early,  capricious,  care  of  buds  in,  83. 

Spring :  Anacreon's  ode  to,  by  T.  .Moore,  102  ;  ode  on,  by 
Mrs.  Barbauld,  41 ;  song  of,  by  Dawes,  lUl  j  ode  on,  by 
Gray,  '  Lo  where,'  &c.,  101 ;  Voice  of  Spring :  ode  by 
Hemana,  62  ;  SprUig-scene,  by  0.  W .  Holmes,  102 ;  —  Mc- 
leager'3  ode  on,  by  Buckmlnster,  46 ;  Spring  Musings : 
an  ode,  by  Clare,  63  ;  —  an  ode,  by  Percival,  82  ;  —Thom- 
son's poem  of,  3—14. 

Springs,  medicinal,  380  ;  their  visitors,  280. 

Squire  Hobbinol,  89.    See  Country  Sciuire. 

S<|Uirrel,  479  ;  —and  boys  in  chase,  .113. 

Stag-hunt,  260,  292,  301 ;  at  bay,  306     See  Hunt. 

Stagnant  wiiturs,  iivui.I  ili-iiiking  till  boiled,  203. 

Sunhn-,  n  1.    iti'l-  1  .ivfi',  ri  l.lressed,  141. 

Stalli....^.  ■,•    .1  !■  i:.-  '■■■■■  -"- 

Stars,  cti,      ,11.  i^r,  402',  —  apostrophe  to,  475. 

State  ilrul  1  li.iv,  freetlom,  363. 

Sti.tc^nMi,    :  kMural  retirement,  363. 

■  <■■,■;■    ■       1         „  .      |.„-nbingit,56. 

-1    I  In      I  !    ,    u  «     L..lescribed,417,418. 

Jjl; — and  Swiss  plague,  228. 


■floiv..r,  3,  Sti.iie,  product  of  Britain,  66. 

!,  origin  of  man  from,  218.    See  Deucalion. 
,  signs  of  a  i  see  Signs  J  —  winter,  nortl 


,  I .  le,  by  T.  B.  Read,  416. 

1,278. 

i-'Slers,  prostitutes,  316,  317. 
I.  Illy  Garden,' 130. 
-s  and  disadvantages,  169. 

from  the  Strymon,  now  Karasou  river,  Turkey 

me,  291. 

midnight,  reprobated, 

jumble  temples,  tents,  pyra- 


in  Europe. 
Stuart  (Queen  Anne),  compliment  I 
Stud-horse,  good  i)ointa  in,  332. 
Study,  as  influencing  health,  451 ; 


kl.. 


book  IV.,  nitT".s,  4:15 — H3.    .*.->:  f 
Suicide's  grave,  161. 
Sultanas  of  Aurengzebe,  sue  for  merej 
Summer :  a  poem,  by  Thomson,  la.'i- 

Bloomfteld,  193—197  ;  — an  «l"-u-. 
Summer,  366;— the  Sccoml     1 

personifted,  by  Dodsley, 
of  Gri 


161,  152;  —  noon,  preparations  i.n-,  lUT  ;  tlmWs.  cows, 
daw,  rook,  magpie,  shade  of  oaks,  fowls,  house-dog, 
greyhound.  Insects,  137, 138  ;  — noon,  blaze  of  light  arid 
heat,  silence,  quiet.  139 ;  shade,  scenes,  cattle,  slumlwr- 
ing  herdsman,  140  ;- insects,  l:;-i ;  194;  their  variety 

and  beauty;  .i(  ih     1,  «      1,  ilwers,  house,  138  ;  — 

in  the  torrid  7.  n  ,  1  : '  ]■'  si,  described,  148  ; 

—  clouds,  fruits  til  A  ilk  i  circle  of  friends, 

11 ;  shadows,  breeze, 


148, 149;  — cvti. 

quail,  wafted  s- 

.r,  151;  — n- 


Sunday,  about  the  country  chapel,  3! 

i.    8 

eo  Sabbath. 

Sunk  fences,  gmM 

•or  deer  and  sheep 

Sunlight,  rcqulsiu 

ams,  rocks,  ocean, 

of  ligh^  137  ; 

-of  December;    t 

Isma 

-by  Dyer,  77; 


;r,  161. 


x-mpest  01  tne  ;  areaa  ;  eim  ; 
i ;  —  Insect  lite  ;  habits  of  the  beetle,  moth, 
grasshopper,  194  ;  —  employments,  and  winter  pleasures, 
211 ;  -praUe  of ;  — moonlight,  265;  — drinks,  386;  — 
Indian,  343,  344  ;  366. 
Summer  Months:  an  o<le,  by  Motherwell,  160  ;  — InsecU : 
an  ode,  by  Clare,  302  ;  —  Wmd :  by  Bryant,  206. 


Sunrise,  by  Dyer,  76  ;  —  In  summer,  136  ;  - 
CowiJer's  shu  ' 

Sunshine  after  a  shower,  H7. 

Superstition,  advice  against,  270  ;  —of  negroes  ;  bewitch- 
ing, gree-gree,  obia,  430. 

SCRKKY,  U)K0,  tribute  to,  393. 

Sycophants  and  hypocrites  denounced,  383,  884. 

SyliabulB,  69. 

Sympalliv,  human,  claimed  and  enforced,  81 ;  — of  rich  and 
pcur,  308  ;  —  in  tlie  love  of  nature,  246  ;  —  good  effects 
of,  398,  399. 

Syracuse,  note  on,  p.  26. 

S.vrian  wool ;  Tyrian  dyes,  498. 

Syrup  of  sugars,  433. 

Swale,  fate  of  exotics  on  Its  banks,  174. 

Swallow,  building  his  nest,  10  ;  —  in  Greece,  23. 

Swampy  luxuriance,  how  to  beautify,  167, 168. 
g,  11- 


at  the  Caudino  Pass. 
T.\ciTrs,  the  Uoman  historian,  94. 
Talking  party,  of  women,  in  the  country,  373. 
Talliot-hound  ;  useii  in  hunting  moss-troopers. 
Talents,  diver'ifi<'d  ;  use  for  mutual  aid,  133. 
T;il;.'i.l.  his  exploits  ;it  the  May-day  riot,  93. 


Tartar  iinii.v-lmiit  .l.si 

Taste  should  preside 

ganlening,  86  ;  —  true,  in 
Milton  its  herald,  165  ;  — 11 
exhortation  lo ;  Reynolds, 
taught  by  rules,  '" 


351—353.  . 

rural  labors,  85  ;  —  vulgar,  1 
gardening.  Bacon  its  prophe 


n,  172. 


_  vale  of  Thessaly,  about  Bve  miles  long,  through 
hich  flowed  the  I'eneus,  from  Mt.  Pindus.    It  was  and 
is  a  proverb  for  beauty. 
Temperance,  389  ;  49  ;  — recommended  lo  the  young  farm- 
•      ■  by  Epicurus,  64  ;— is  true  luxury. 


state,  and  1 

and  Wi 
Temptation, 374  ;  86;— of  the  fanner. 


374. 


Tenglio  river,  404,  and  note. 

Tkbpsichiirb,  Inventress  and  muse  ol 
holding  music  and  crowned  with  laurel.    See  .Muses. 

Tetcvs,  wife  of  Oceanus  (ocean),  and  daughter  of  Iranus 
and  Terra  (heaven  and  earth),  mother  of  the  rl»«r«  and 
three  thousand  ocean-nymphs.    Sec  Nymphs. 

ToiUA,  muic  of  comedy  ;  also  of  husbanilry  and  plaotiog. 

Thanksgiving  Hymn  of  the  Farmers :  by  Jones,  358. 

Thames,  the,  good  example  compared  lo,  260  ;  —  appears 


Anne^s   peaceful    reism  ; 
(Pope),  293;  — apostru].! 


'The  dorty  will  repent :  '  a  s 

'The  laird  who  in  riches  a.n-\ 

Theocritus,  a  Greek,  the  t; 

was  born  in  Syracuse,  floi 

delplms,  King  of  Egypt,  J 

of  Syracuse,  by  whom  he  i 


speech,  294 -,  — praise  ol 
l.y  Ciiainj^er,  441,  443- 

'  i       -  praise  and  praye 


i  of  Pa 


idyls  :  by  Chapman, '  Daphnis,'  17, 18  ;  *  Sing- 


where  his  father  w  i-  mn 
at  Edinljurgh,  tnK     -     ■ 

fifteen  dollars  I  < ' 
'  Summer,'  and  ^ii  i  -. 
1727-S,  and  '  Auuiimi '  \- 
came  out  togetiier,  in  17u 
for  the  stage  ;  the  Princ 
pension,  and  in  1745  Lor 


Thr; 


country  < 


piri'    i""\    'I     !]!■     \  I  ■  !ii;- 1 1 .  ■,    l;:  I'k  Sea,  and   Balkan 

mouiitauiTi.      itif  -god  I'l   iiiraiA'     i-s  Uiicchus. 
Thresher,  24li. 
Threshing,  44i3  ;  —  in  ancient  Greece,  23  }  —  floor  in  South 

Europe,  how  to  make,  209. 
Thrift,  not  inconsistent  with  taste,  166. 
Throckmorton,  J.  C,  his  estate  ;  avenues  of  trees,  248  249. 
Thrush,  love-song  of,  9  }  —  morning  orisons  of,  43. 
Tbpancs,  the  famous  and  excellent  French  statesman,  De 

Thou,  94. 
Thult\  an  unknown  island  in  the  north,  variously  identified 

with  the  Shetland  Isles,  Iceland,  Scandinavia,  Tylemark, 

in  Norway,  and  Lapland. 
Thunder-storm,  tropical,  143;  — in  summer,  146,147;  — 

and  lightning,  143, 146,  211 ;  fright,  noises,  211. 
Thyme,  gmws    on    healthy  localities,  49  ;  — savory,  n.se- 

Thyi-l-,'i!,'      I.,.!m,mm    ■.     I.-     >lv     :n„l     l„nK.    im;     -,u„1 


He  HI. 


Pope's,  published  at  the  sam 

rel.     His  Lucy  and  Colin  '  is 
Tickell's  Lucy  and  Colin,  73. 
Tillage,  TulPs,  theory  of  rejecting  : 
Timber,  when  to  fell  it,  20,  21  ;  ■ 

raise  the  best,  62. 
Tune,  mellows  the  harshness  of  art ;  ruins,  164  ^  —eternity, 

winter,  spring,  405 ;  —  to  reap,  sow,  sail,  210. 
Tin,  British,  66. 
Tisiphone,  229  ;  one  of  the  three  Furies,  sprung 

who  were  imaged  as  brandishing  snakes  in 

and  a  torch  in  the  other. 
Tita:^,  the  sun  ;  which  was  so  cnll'-'d  ns  br-in:^ 

Hyperion,  one  of  the  Titans  wli..  \v..n.d   ..l-;i 


-  cultivation  of ;  —  how  t 


I  Night, 


Tithes,  danger  of  withholding:  ^  i 

TityrusandMelibtEus:  abmnih       \  >  i  :  ,  .      ;■ 

Tivoli,  near  Rome,  with  ganl.  n.  ,, i ;   ,, 

Tmolus,  high  and  broad  moutitiuM    m  l,>.ii,i,   \-;,i  .Mm-r, 
Tobacco,  praise  of,  380. 

Toil  and  care  the  price  of  property  and  comforts,  208,  209  -, 
—  a  blessing;   healthy  old  age;   ease,  249;— and  be 


Tonsorio,  liis  exploits  in 
Tools,  farmers',  5(i ;  — 
Topaz,  ir~ 


May-day  riot,  93,  93. 
nt  Greek,  21. 
Tornadoes,  tropical,  145. 


Toughening,  339. 


of  planting,  217. 
Traveller,  lost  in  snow-storm  ; 
—  of  taste,  addressed,  161  ; 


impared,  86. 
Tyre,  502. 


-  and   teaming,  in 


Treasures,  earthly  and  heavenly,  410. 

Trees  and  their  qualities,  156  ;  elm,  cypress,  alder,  plane, 
oak,  ebony,  cedar,  box,  olive,  vine,  lotus,  juniper,  pine 
yew,  tamarisk,    liirrh,  servis,    walnut,   mulberry,  majjle. 

ii-ii,  I.iiir.  K  iiiwil.'.    ■r.^,  -l..i...  lir,  beech,  156  ;  —  cauLion 


1  fish  bodies  from  the 


—  of  British  navigatio 
Troglodytes,  dwellers  in  ( 


;  and  cellars  underground  ; 


art5,  science,  poetry,  freedom,  14o 

leopard,  hyena,  lion,  144. 
Troubles  of  wedded  hfe,  cured  by  r 

and  time,  373. 
Trouncer,  the  fox-hound  ;  ht-^  i\>'-'Ah  ■ 
Trout-fishing,  7  ;  divectm,,^  ,  ,!■  -,  , ;, 
Troy,  a   city  founded   I'.\    .i    ■ 


n  health,  452. 
=  Tullus  Cicero. 


Tvi-,  ..":■   '.■''■'   .!■ -.  lii'iiL-,  502.  Tyrian  dye,  502. 

Tyrrheii.  ;  Tu-icaii,  the  sea  that  laves  the  coast  of  Tuscany. 
Unexpressive,  inexpressible,  444. 

Union,  dependence   and  sympathy,  mutual,  of  the    several 
classes  of  society,  268. 


548 


Universal  Order,  296,  —  from  Pope'il  EBsny  on  Man. 

Universal  Prayer  (Pope's),  134. 

UBiSii,  Ihe  inuao  of  usUouoniy  i  Imaged  with  a  globe  and 
a  rod.    See  Muses. 

Use  an  clement  of  true  taato  ■,  use  and  beauty  Inseparable, 
160    —an I  ileasue  1      I    of  I     g«  1       K  '08 
adi   aut)    168    —  ofNaurcs         ous  fore  «       4     nc 

C  IJ  kll         4     -    f  1         Udl       8      10     — 


Vanities  of  sc  nee  and  lea  g  81  • 
8  —  of  hun  n  pu  su  ts  397  all  I 
tue  40 


lb     —  1 
■n  thly  thi 


-manly  Its  empire  cndur- 
lnll>    82      -  necessary  In 

J7  —  maj  sty  of;  OihPs 
yiK-s  of  heaven,  486. 

I  )  fa  rocr  nuetis,  66  -, 
y    1  1   —  patriotic,  183, 

h  wl  384    as  Virgil,  Ho- 


w   h  lappiness  of  ani- 

1,  colt,  fr 

148,  149 

'cow,      » 

>\inu.r  Walks,  407— 186. 

1  •  83 

Wal 

ut-tce  uses  of,  62. 

uacB  (1 

17-1  90) 

ail  ceman,  with  J30,000 

,    t,thei   Ime  minister; 

II  11  a    fl 

''"■'l''w'sU.e°f[icndTf 
U  e      c  of  74. 

IJ;  — rural,  67, 

al  y  charge,  70. 
odN\    ^.M,.rs. 

1        _ 

b  otl  of  Tl  o  n  IS  (l)fl..» ),  and 
il  1800  He  was  a  sclio„uvlluw 
tonl  c  ale  of  Bajingstoke,  afU'r 
of  V  nchiaur  prebend  of  St. 


I  V  nchiaur  pri 
'  ote  Od     to  Far 


uaste  (Del  II  )    the  b     I 
II  s  s  bu  I        St    z   I 

c  cul  u  e  of    17—219     i 
bo  I      t  ansplant  ng  vin  U        1  f      I 

a  my      1  pti    of  plant  ng     dos  roy  ng  t  res       m 
1 1  ugl  ng   217     p    cautions  against  wet  an  I    1  ougl 
Ic    I    he  H   1  free    t  al    n   of  vines     p  u  ing     p       cl 


lory  and  PoH 
I  of  April, 
rst  of  April, 64. 


uads  hackneyed,  280. 
inj,  1  agonally  across 
4iscd  by  an'>t)KT,  tliu 
ul  1 1  iss  trim  Dover 
I  LI    oln. 


w  a      g  604    —  Kl  mish  1 «  England,  607. 
c  hoc    g  I  U    nncl    s  AJi 
>  foe  i     i  ts  86    —  I       0  -cts  of  sloth,  61  ; 
fl  ids  i^  AJ>    rem  di  s  against  iKilsons  ; 


544 

W  I                                 INDEX.                                   Z  0 

use  ,.f  yellon-  thistle,  kn 

it-Kr.iss,  .■Off-itch,  vervain,  wild- 

Winter:    a  poem,  l.y  Th.ims.,n,  3!ir,— 40.5  ;  —  a  poem,  hy 

Bloomflel.l,  41-i      in-    il'ii.'i 1   ,  l;  \\  illiam  Jeiiks, 

D.D.,456;  -  1                    ,  ;      :                      T,-k,hy  Cow- 

'\\''l     ■'.■■:      ,1        1     .1               '" 

'' Ni>;-).n6. 

per,  457-4hl          "i               «                       ;.,.  l,y  Cowper, 

ii  ':-'"'/'  ■'  -," 

■   1  -"ns(xiii.),116. 

\\"\  .i".'!.'.;''!    :     1  '   ,  .,.,■:    ■  :  ,  -  ;i,i,l  love  of  God,  162  ; 

"cnr'v    'ill  '-'US  ■  —  I'nrves 

•lemittst' during;   sheafs,  05, 

W.il'vei,wmi.V.  '  ii            \     i'  i   i      1  Ii,  r.l,,ii,  353. 

66;  — I'ipemn's,  1»4. 

Woman,  to  !..■  1"  i.       ■    u:       ■:   ,     i      '  :         !  .;<•  and  friend- 

'When first  my  dear  laddi 

gaed  to  the  green  hill :'  a  song 

ship  of,  3.s:;  ;         ,  ■  •                                         Ml-:,  303. 

(x.),  Ill,  112. 

Women,  of  l;,i:                                    I               ,    l.'.o,  161;  of 

in  despair;' a  song  (.^vni.),  122. 

ll.-ixlonMiii       ;■          1  i.      r. 

White"lh'"''i"i'''n'!''i"Il!' 

the.M.,:   : 

",■■■,■         1                  ■    ■•. 

En^,'':i 

",\i  '      '.I'uiriiot  countries; 

1             ,             '            :    l:    ii-l,  commerce,  68  ;  -  its 
i    i.             .  i:         i.    .     ■         .iinncUmatesunfavorahle 

K,"    i'i';|     'iiin".      r.u'l.n:      '".n,      \..  '  '     W.:rU,!'    '   'i  i  1      ,1;^: 

Cli.-I  '   -:                     1 

,      im"i';  slaughter  of, 

ing^;     >:,ri..iis    .\y:s;    British'  dye-stuffs,  .002  ■     curding. 

362;  -Ii      ..:    ■■.■•!  1  ■ 

spinning,  o03. 

Wild-w 1  ■•■•.!     ..!  i;:/. 

',  V'V        n,.-lilv,  164. 

Woollens,  lalirics,  497  ;  manufactures  of,  503—509  ;  manu- 

William 1  .    .       1 

.Uo;— I.andll.; 

facture,  suiierior  to  others,  506,  607  ;  wooUen  trade,  SOS, 

1  l-pulated60orT0 

609. 
Wordof  God,  thi    liiii|.i..Nin,i-i-,  475. 
Work  for  riiiiiv   ■. .    i  'i  : ,  h  /,  !  i  .    ,  .venings  ;  for  each  sea- 

I!       "  ' ' !'      ' 

rluSea,404. 

son,  210,  J 11                                    lii.urs,  for  slaves,  439. 
Works  and  Hin  ■    II         ,       ■  ■     Jt, 

;■;         ."'  [y"  ■       ;■, 

1     .        11),  o'.lo,  .396. 

World,  the,  it-    Ii                 'i    1    .  ■-,  oiiil  wrong  ;  law,  fash- 

,■,:','   v;  "■''■''" 

v\,,!i''i'l'ir-|!'i        .           "              i.                    iii  i-ure,  262. 
Wiii  Mi;>i,,      r        ,           .      i     Ii          :      if,  especially 
(.nii)i--ii-    I; i  II  i  i,  ii    .,  ii  ,    Ii.  .Ii.  .1  :n  lil88,aged6S. 

Wr;.ya,idU.i>                                   Ii..,,.  4VI0, 

PesLv,'. 

Wreckers,  2.iii 

291- J  •' 

1    i.  :,         M  -  ■   lllym- 

pus,    r,r,      i'        ,         . 

;  1,      .  ,  ;  .;    1.  .iiin  .     i  ,.|u:il  cul- 

Wrestl'ing-iii'i'h'i.,  .     -i       li-s  92. 

:             ,     .     |.«l.l,;,llUlltiTlg, 

Wretchedn.--.  >  ii,  n    '   ;i             :  |^  ;  sympathy,  399. 

2'92;".'''i    .        " 

lii.ilist,  astronomer, 

Wryneck,  133. 

SChul:,i, 

year,  the,  its  changes  ;  m :  .  .i   n.    ,.  .i.-^iU. 

Wine,  ^. 1    •   -    ,  1      ....1 

,,. >,4j;— how,  when, 

YocNG,  Edwabd,  author  ni   \i   h,    i  h.  ,  i.  .  ,  burn  at  Up- 

and  ivlr 

ham,  in  Hampshire,  »h.  ,      h  -    lil    i    ...    -  r-ctor.     Edu- 

Winter,   i'      i       : 

'.-;:.15;  — reluctant 

i    !■;    II   -i-l  ;   1 1 

cated  at  llM-nl,  he  cna...  iii...!  .  ..i.Ui.  r  .in.l  poet  in  1712, 
iiii.l  .    iiiiiii  ii  1.  .1,  lill  his  death,  at  eighty-four  years  of 

f01-'h"i.-.     '•     .1   -     :    . 

\             .              '          loiinortality,'358. 

226  ;-    "            '  ■  ' 

1                      I   uld  Wife;    steady  wind  and  safe 

gam.  -, 

door    .;               :.             i 

:   .ii.       ,.  .i  ,  .1     ,    .  ,    ;    ).,;.,  ..-|,.i.,,ilii  l.,ul..-.love,  13;  — 
■      :;■         .'     iiiity,  andmcl- 

lOScI).]'".  ,            :      1     . 

■'  ;  ,  '     ,  ','.,; ...  .i  t''' . i     ■'<•  1'. c. 400. 

villa;;-!. ■ :  •. 

frolic-.  :    1      . 

1  •            1 :              -    -  •.    . 

402,   J".,       .1    ■    . 

...       i.      ...     .1..         J  .         '1             .      !          i       .       .       '.    .       i          J  '.   ■, 

TimV  '  1!        "    '     '■ 

,"      '""■;  1  ,     '  ' 

'          '     ,     "             ii'    tlie  W.ii-('l!Bit    Llecem- 

until""                   ^'. 

I     :           ,1                             .       ■'     1    . 

,    1  Water-bearer,  January 

42:i-,-    ,,■-       ..' 
446;-  '•..•, !■■       !Mii:. 

/.'.     .:     .   ii.  1    1,1      11..  .  \  '.,'il's  live  zones,  210. 

46S,   4.-,i  ;.-.|.].:illiUr 

liant,  477. 

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